Alpha's STOLEN Mate (by Abigail Hayes) novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

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His voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy between us. Just like four years ago, when she chose to disappear rather than accept

help.

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Somehow, his measured defense of my actions made me feel worse than his mate’s direct accusations. I sank into my chair, the weight of

repeated failure pressing down on my shoulders.

“I owe you an apology,” I said, my voice thick with guilt. “But dead or alive, I give you my word–I will find your daughter.”

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. Theron squeezed her shoulder, then leaned forward with the careful attention he’d

always given sensitive intelligence briefings.

“Alpha King,” he said quietly, “Frost told us something that seems… impossible. He said Elowen manifested as a white wolf. Is this true?”

I nodded slowly, the memory of her ethereal beauty in wolf form still vivid despite everything that followed.

“Incredible, Theron breathed, while Lydia stared at me in stunned disbelief.

“Do either of you have any insight into how this might have happened?” I asked. “Any family history of unusual bloodlines?”

Theron shook his head slowly. “Nothing in my lineage or Lydia’s suggests white wolf heritage. If anything, we’re aggressively normal stock.” He paused thoughtfully. “This must be a direct gift from the Moon Goddess herself.”

Lydia had been silent during this exchange, but now she looked up with a mixture of wonder and bitter irony.

“It doesn’t fucking matter now, does it?” she said harshly. “She’s gone. Jumped off a cliff because she’d rather die than deal with whatever

fresh hell you had planned.”

Then her expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful despite her anger. “Though now that I think about it… white wolf bloodlines are supposedly so powerful they suppress normal shifting abilities until the wolf is ready. Some don’t manifest until their early twenties, and only after significant personal growth or trauma.”

The implications hit me like a sledgehammer. I stared at her, pieces of a puzzle I’d been too blind to see finally clicking into place.

“You mean she wasn’t broken at eighteen,” I said slowly. “She was too powerful to shift.”

“Exactly,” Lydia continued, warming to the theory despite her grief. “All those years everyone called her defective, she was actually carrying dormant abilities beyond anything we’d ever seen. The Moon Goddess was probably protecting her until she was strong enough to

handle that kind of power.”

The guilt that had been gnawing at my chest exploded into full–blown self–loathing.

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Chapter 29

“The irony is almost poetic, Frost murmured. “She needed to leave the pack to become who she was meant to be.”

“If only we could tell her that,” Lydia whispered, her anger finally giving way to pure maternal heartbreak. “Do you think… do you really think there’s any chance she survived that fall? Or are we just torturing ourselves with false hope?”

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Before I could answer, pain exploded through my chest like liquid fire. I doubled over, gasping as agony tore through the mate bond with

an intensity that made my vision white out at the edges.

What the fuck-

“Alpha King!” Frost was at my side instantly, his hands supporting me as I fought to stay conscious. “What’s happening?”

The pain shifted, evolved from simple agony into something more complex–betrayal, jealousy, possessive rage that wasn’t entirely my own. Through the bond, I could feel Elowen as clearly as if she were standing in the room. Not just her presence, but her emotions, her

physical sensations…

She’s kissing someone else.

The realization hit me like a second wave of torture. My mate–my supposedly dead mate–was alive, well, and in the arms of another male. I could feel his hands on her body, taste his lips on hers through our enhanced connection.

“Fuck!” I snarled, gripping the arms of my chair so hard the wood splintered. “That little-”

I caught myself before finishing the curse, suddenly aware of her parents watching my breakdown with growing alarm and confusion.

Slowly, fighting through the continued ache in my chest, I straightened and met Lydia’s desperate gaze.

“I can guarantee,” I said, my voice rough but certain, “your daughter is very much alive.”

Lydia’s hand flew to her throat. “How can you possibly know that?”

I touched my chest where the mate bond pulsed with renewed strength, carrying echoes of silver hair and champagne kisses and the

phantom scent of another male’s cologne.

“Because,” I said grimly, “she just made sure I’d never forget she exists.”