Chapter 12

Ethan's POV

Five minutes later, we were walking through the hospital parking lot in strained silence. She opened the passenger door of my SUV, only to freeze, her expression hardening as she saw who was already sitting there.

Riley looked up from her phone, a sweet smile spreading across her face. "Freya! You're out of the hospital. Are you feeling better?"

I noticed Freya's hands curl into fists at her sides. "Why is she in the car?"

I frowned, not understanding her strong reaction. "Riley was discharged today too. I'm giving her a ride. What's the big deal?"

"Freya, I'd let you have the front seat, but my knee injury makes it hard to sit in the back," Riley explained, tapping her silver cane against the door. "Otherwise, I'd totally give you my spot."

I could see Riley was making an effort to be friendly, even starting to shift as if to attempt moving, but Freya's hostility was palpable. I placed a hand on Riley's shoulder. "Stay where you are. You're still healing."

Turning to Freya, I said firmly, "Freya, stop making such a big deal out of this. Get in the car." I didn't mean for my Alpha command to leak into my voice, but I was losing patience with her irrational behavior.

Freya slammed the passenger door shut and yanked open the back door instead. In the rearview mirror, I could see her face had gone pale, her eyes reflecting a flash of hurt before she masked it with indifference. Something about that look made my chest ache, but I pushed the sensation away.

As we pulled out of the hospital parking lot, Riley broke the awkward silence. "Ethan, can I stay at your place for a few days? Mom's visiting European werewolf territories, and Dad's always busy with his Alpha business until late. I get so bored alone, and my shifting abilities aren't recovered yet."

I glanced at her while waiting for a red light, barely registering what she was asking. My mind was still caught on Freya's reaction and the inexplicable tension filling the car. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Freya staring out the window, deliberately ignoring us both.

"Ethan?" Riley tugged at my sleeve playfully. "Are you listening to me? I was asking if I could stay over."

"Sure, you can stay," I replied absently, my attention split between the road and Freya's reflection. Why did she look so pale? Was she still unwell?

Riley clapped her hands together in delight. "Great! Thank you!"

In the mirror, I saw Freya's face turn even whiter, her body trembling slightly. Before I could ask what was wrong, she suddenly cried out, "Stop the car!"

I slammed on the brakes, pulling over to the curb as Freya flung open her door and stumbled out. I heard Riley mutter something under her breath, but I was already out of the car, following Freya as she bent over at the roadside, dry heaving.

I grabbed a water bottle from the car's cooler and approached her, placing a hand on her back as she continued to retch. Her body was warm beneath my palm, shaking with each heave.

"Here," I said, offering her the water when the worst seemed to pass.

Freya straightened, deliberately stepping away from my touch. She accepted the water with a shaky hand. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice rough.

I glance back at the car where Riley waits, her slender silhouette visible through the windshield. She looks impatient, checking her phone, completely unconcerned about Freya's condition. Something about her detachment bothers me.

My mind drifts back three years, to when Riley first declared we were mates. I was twenty, already being groomed as the next Alpha. She approached me after a pack gathering, her eyes gleaming with certainty.

"You feel it too, don't you?" she'd whispered. "That reaction whenever we're close? That's how you know we're fated mates."

I had felt nothing. But I'd accepted her word without question. As a pure-blood werewolf from a respected bloodline, Riley understood these things better than I did, despite my Alpha status. Besides, I was also cursed.

"That reaction," Rowan interjects, "was completely different from what you feel with Freya, wasn't it?"

"That doesn't mean anything," I argue with Rowan. "The reaction with Riley was just different because... because..."

"Because what? Because she told you it was a mate bond? What if it was something else entirely?" My wolf's voice grows stern.

"What are you suggesting?" I mutter under my breath.

"Did you say something?" Freya asks, looking up at me with those penetrating eyes that seem to see too much.

"Just thinking aloud," I reply quickly. "Are you done?"

She nods, straightening up with obvious effort. I resist the urge to help her, sensing she'd reject any assistance.

"I don't know for certain," Rowan continues as we walk back to the car. "We were cursed before and had never felt the presence of a mate. But recently, I’ve been having an unusually strong premonition..."

"What is that?" I demand internally, my heart pounding harder.

"I think Freya is our true mate," Rowan states plainly.

I nearly stumble at this suggestion. Looking at Freya walking slowly behind me, I feel a rush of unfamiliar emotions. No, this can't be right. She's Freya Hayes, the mixed-blood wolf I married for convenience. Our arrangement was purely business—a four-year contract to satisfy the pack elders.

We reach the car, and I watch as Freya climbs into the back seat, her movements careful, controlled. Riley immediately begins talking to me, her hand resting on my arm possessively. The touch that once excited me now feels... wrong somehow.

I start the engine, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. My thoughts are chaotic, questioning everything I've believed for years. I find myself looking at Freya in the rearview mirror more than necessary, studying her features as if seeing them for the first time.

Could she really be my mate? The idea is both unsettling and strangely compelling. If true, it would explain the intensity of our connection, the powerful urge that formed despite our emotional distance, and my inability to fully commit to Riley despite my intentions.

Riley's laugh cuts through my thoughts, high and melodic. She's telling me about her time in Europe, but I barely register her words. Instead, I'm acutely aware of Freya's silence in the back seat, her steady heartbeat, the faint scent of her anxiety mixing with something else I can't identify.

A disturbing thought made my breath catch, my focus blurring for a second. What if I've been wrong all this time? What if Freya—quiet, dignified Freya who has endured my indifference for years—is actually my true mate?