Page 30 of Alpha's Exiled Mate
I watched the clouds drift slowly across the moon outside the window, but Perock never appeared. How could I be so foolish? He must be with Sophia, soothing her shaken nerves and ensuring she falls asleep safely.
The images replayed—her tears, his gentle embrace, the way he’d carried her away. Each memory was a blade, carving deeper into my heart.
I thought of our night together, when I’d braved his coldness to offer the honey cake, my cheeks burning as I said, Your birthday hasn’t been forgotten. His complex expression, the softening of his voice as he said, “Thank you. It’s… very good.” the warmth in his praise—it had felt like a breakthrough.
I thought that was the first time he truly saw me, the first time he showed me a smile without any guard up.
I remembered the warmth of his touch as he gently caressed my cheek, and the feeling of being cherished during our intimate moments. In that moment, I thought I had finally earned a place in his heart, that a bond had been forged between us.
But now, I finally realized - that night’s tenderness was fleeting, a spark I’d mistaken for a flame. Sophia was his true love, the one he’d nearly died for. And I, his fated mate, means nothing.
My wolf felt shaken, and I wondered if Perock believed in a fated mate. I pressed a hand to my chest, where a dull ache pulsed, relentless.
His wound haunted me—the gash across his chest, blood soaking his shirt. How deep was it? Had he treated it? Could it fester? The questions gnawed at me, a cruel irony that I worried for him even as he broke my heart. I bit my lip, tasting the bitterness of my conflict—jealousy for Sophia’s place in his heart, yet an unshakable need to know he was safe. I couldn’t hate him, only ache for him, and that hurt most of all.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, but my feet betrayed me, carrying me to the door. This longing was a chain, binding me to pain I couldn’t escape, like a moth drawn to a flame it knew would burn. The guard outside stopped me, his arm barring my path.
“Your Highness, His Highness ordered you to stay here for your safety,” he said, his tone firm yet respectful.
My heart leapt. “He’s back?” The hope in my voice startled me.
“Yes, His Highness might have gone to the study.”
A faint smile curved my lips, a flicker of warmth piercing my despair. He’d thought of my safety, even while with Sophia. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely indifferent.
“I’ll go find him,” I said softly, my voice carrying a fragile hint of hope.
The corridor to his study stretched endlessly, torchlight casting long shadows. At the door, ajar as if waiting, I pushed inside, the scent of ink, parchment, and pine filling the air—his scent. But the room was empty.
He was not here.
I lingered, my gaze tracing the desk’s scattered papers, imagining him there, brow furrowed in focus or rubbing his temples in fatigue. The thought softened my heart, a tenderache for the man beneath the prince. My eyes drifted to the bookshelves, rows of tomes reflecting his mind—history, strategy, poetry. Did he share these with Sophia? Their shared childhood, their countless memories, must be a tapestry I could never match. I was an intruder, a shadow in their story.
A dusty corner bookshelf caught my attention. The books there appeared untouched for a long time, covered in a thin layer of dust, but the middle section was strikingly clean, as if it had been frequently handled. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for that spot, gently pushing aside the books to reveal a small wooden box hidden behind them. My breath caught.
I should leave—this was private, sacred. But the need to understand him, to grasp even a fragment of his heart, overwhelmed me. With shaking hands, I opened it.
A delicate silver bracelet lay quietly on the velvet lining, adorned with a small crescent moon pendant. With trembling hands, I picked it up. Its surface was free of any dust, so smooth it seemed to have been frequently touched, carrying the owner’s longing and warmth. Hidden so deeply.
As I ran my fingers over it, I noticed subtle uneven marks on the surface and couldn’t help but examine it closely.
Etched into it was a name, carved by hand:
Sophia.
This was Sophia’s crescent moon necklace.
At this moment, my heart plunging into icy depths. This was the crescent pendant, their vow of forever, hidden yet treasured. Perock’s love for her was etched into every polished curve, a truth I couldn’t deny. I was nothing—a substitute, a cruel jest of fate.
“What are you doing?”
Perock’s roar jolted me, the bracelet slipping from my fingers, the pendant shattering on the floor with a crystalline snap. I gasped, dropping to my knees to gather the pieces, buthe shoved me aside, his touch rough and desperate. He knelt, collecting the fragments with trembling hands, heedless of the sharp edges cutting his fingers, blood welling as he tried to salvage what I’d broken.
The bracelet was ruined, its pieces scattered like my hopes. He looked up, his eyes blazing with fury, a fire that seared my soul. Beneath the anger was agony, as if I’d destroyed not just a keepsake but the last tether to his light.
“Why did you touch my things?” His voice was low, dangerous, each word a blade.
“I-I didn’t mean to…” I stammered, rising, reaching for him, but my steps faltered under his glare.
