The Alpha's Exiled Mate

Chapter 4

ARIA

I watch the first letter curl and blacken in the flames, the Crescent Ridge emblem dissolving into ash. Then I feed the second one to the fire. The paper catches quickly, orange light dancing across the words Dr. W before they're consumed entirely.

Good. Let them burn.

Kelly shifts uneasily in my mind, but I ignore her. We're not going back. We're not answering. End of story.

Except it's not the end.

The next morning, Mr. Bennet shows up with three more letters. Two for Dr. W, one for me.

I smile politely, sign for them, and the moment I close the door, I march straight to the fireplace.

By the third day, there are five letters waiting.

"Mama, why do you keep getting so much mail?" Lily asks, watching me stack the latest batch on the kitchen counter. Her eyes are wide with curiosity, like this is the most exciting thing that's happened all week.

"Junk mail," I say lightly. "Nothing important."

Noah picks one up, studying the wax seal. "This looks fancy for junk mail."

I pluck it from his hands. "Fancy junk is still junk."

Emma giggles. "Can we keep the envelopes? They're pretty."

"Sure, baby. After I open them."

Which I don't. I just burn them.

By the end of the week, the letters are arriving in bundles. Mr. Bennet looks increasingly confused each time he hands them over, but he doesn't ask questions. He just gives me that concerned smile and mentions again how grateful he is that I'm seeing Mary tomorrow.

The kids think it's hilarious. They've started a game where they guess how many letters will come each day. Lily's running bet is fifteen. Noah says twelve. Emma just shrugs and says "a lot."

They're not wrong.

I'm burning them faster than they arrive, but my anxiety is climbing with each delivery. Every sealed envelope feels like a ticking clock, counting down to something I can't control.

I read one. Just one. I have to know if anything's changed.

Dr. W,

Your continued silence is noted. We are willing to triple your standard fee. Please respond.

Alpha Declan Cross

I crumple it and toss it into the flames.

Then I open one addressed to me.

Aria Sinclair,

You have ten days remaining to comply with the pack recall. All members are required to return to Crescent Ridge territory. This is a direct order from your Alpha.

Alpha Declan Cross

My hands shake as I burn that one too.

They don't know. They can't know that Aria Sinclair and Dr. W are the same person. If they did, the letters would say so. They'd threaten differently. They'd leverage it.

But the fact that they're searching for both of us at the same time? That's not a coincidence. That's dangerous.

I need to leave. Now.

I spend the next two days in a frenzy of activity. I finish every outstanding case I have—werewolf and human alike. I work late into the nights, stitching wounds and mixing tinctures, pushing myself until my hands ache and my eyes blur.

The medical kit I carry gets heavier with each appointment. By the time I'm walking home from treating Mary's ear infection, my shoulders are screaming and my back feels like it might give out.

It's nearly dusk. The neighborhood is quiet, the streetlights just starting to flicker on. I adjust the strap of my kit and keep walking, counting down the blocks until I'm home.

A car pulls up beside me, slowing to match my pace.

I tense immediately, my wolf rising to the surface, ready to run or fight.

Then the window rolls down, and I see his face.

"Aria. Get in."

I stop walking. "Ethan."

Ethan Cole, he’s the son of the lovely couple that saved my life six years ago. He leans across the passenger seat, his brown eyes warm but concerned. "You look exhausted. Let me drive you."

"I'm fine. It's only a few more blocks."

"You're carrying a bag that weighs half as much as you do." He pushes the door open. "Get in. Please."

I hesitate, but my shoulders really do hurt, and the thought of walking another three blocks with this kit makes me want to cry.

I slide into the passenger seat, pulling the medical kit onto my lap. Ethan doesn't say anything as he starts driving. He just glances at me, then focuses on the road.

"The kids?" I ask after a moment.

"At my place. Mom's feeding them dinner. They're fine."

Of course they are. The Cole family has been looking after my babies since the day we met. Ethan has always been there for us, watching the kids when I work late, making sure they're safe.

He knows what I am. I trusted him with that secret long ago, and he's never once betrayed me.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

Ethan just nods.

We drive in silence for a while. I watch the familiar streets pass by, my mind already cataloging everything I still need to pack. Clothes. Documents. Medical supplies. We can't take much—just what fits in the car. We'll have to leave the rest behind.

"You're planning to run."

I jerk my head toward Ethan. "What?"

"You've been finishing up all your cases. Tying up loose ends. You're getting ready to disappear." He doesn't look at me. "Is it him? Your ex?"

My throat tightens.

I don't answer.

I can't.

Ethan's grip on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles going white. "Aria—"

"I can't talk about it."

"You don't have to run. You're safe here. We can—"

"I'm not safe anywhere he can find me." The words come out sharper than I intended. "And I won't let him anywhere near my kids."

Ethan goes quiet.

I stare out the window, my chest aching. I know he wants to help. I know he cares. But this isn't his world. This isn't his fight.

He's human. Declan would crush him without a second thought.

"Let's go to the park," Ethan says suddenly.

I blink. "What?"

"The park. You need to breathe. Clear your head." He's already turning the car. "The kids are fine with Mom. You've got time."

I should say no. I should go home and finish packing. But the exhaustion in my bones and the tightness in my chest make me nod instead.

"Okay. Just for a little while."

The park is almost empty when we arrive. Ethan parks near the walking path, and we get out, leaving the medical kit in the car. The evening air is cool, and the sound of distant traffic hums in the background.

We walk side by side in silence.

Ethan doesn't push. He never does. He just stays close, his presence steady and calm, like he's reminding me that I'm not alone.

I know how he feels about me. I've always known.

The way he looks at me sometimes, when he thinks I'm not paying attention. The way he goes out of his way to help with the kids. The way he never once asked me for more than I could give.

He's been waiting. Hoping, maybe, that one day I'd be ready.

But my heart is still a tangled mess of pain and anger and something I don't want to name. Something that flares every time I think about Declan's gray eyes and the way he used to hold me like I was the only thing that mattered.

Ethan deserves better than my broken pieces.

"You don't have to tell me what happened," Ethan says quietly. "But if you ever want to... I'm here."

I glance at him. His profile is soft in the fading light, his expression open and kind.

"I know," I whisper.

We walk a little further, and I feel some of the tension in my chest ease. Just a little. Just enough to breathe.

But when we get back to the car, reality crashes down again.

I have to leave. I have to protect my kids. I have to stay ahead of Declan and whatever he's planning.

That night, I finish packing.

My bags are lined up by the door. The kids' clothes are folded neatly in their backpacks. I've withdrawn what little money I have left in my account—enough to get us out of the city and somewhere far away.

I stand in the middle of my living room, looking at the life I built here. The couch where I've read the kids bedtime stories. The kitchen table where we've shared countless meals. The walls covered in their drawings.

I'm going to miss this place.

But I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

I glance at the map spread out on the coffee table. I've circled three possible destinations—small towns, off the radar, where we can disappear.

Tomorrow, we leave.

Before the letters can find me again.

Before Declan can.