The Alpha's Exiled Mate

Chapter 9

DECLAN

The woman in the mask takes a step back, her entire body going rigid. Even without seeing her face, I can read the panic in her posture—the way her shoulders draw up, the sudden tension in her hands.

She’s afraid.

But of what?

“Alpha,” Antony says again, his voice ringing with excitement. “I found it! She must be—”

He’s staring at his tablet, then at the masked woman, his eyes bright with realization.

“Dr. W!” Antony practically shouts, his face splitting into a huge grin. “Please don’t hide your identity! You must be the great, mysterious Dr. W!”

The words hang in the air.

I blink, my mind racing to catch up.

Dr. W?

This woman is Dr. W?

I look at her again—really look at her. The mask. The way she’s been so carefully guarding herself. The complete suppression of her scent, which I’d attributed to simple caution but now realize is a skill few wolves possess.

The masked woman’s hands clench into fists at her sides. If anything, she looks even more nervous now, her breathing quick and shallow beneath the fabric covering her face.

“You’re Dr. W?” I ask slowly.

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move.

Behind me, my driver steps forward, his face alight with hope. “This is incredible! Alpha, we found her!”

Antony is practically vibrating with excitement. “We should invite her back to the pack immediately!”

I stay silent, my mind working through the pieces.

She’s a werewolf. That much is clear—she’s raising werewolf pups. Her ability to completely mask her scent is rare, almost unheard of. That kind of control takes years of practice, incredible discipline. It’s a talent in itself.

And then there’s the emblem.

I saw it earlier, didn’t I? A small pin on her bag when she set it down by the car. The stylized “W” worked into a design of healing herbs. I’d noticed it without thinking, but now it clicks into place.

That’s Dr. W’s mark. The signature she leaves on her correspondence, the symbol her patients describe.

It has to be her.

“Dr. W,” I say, keeping my voice level. “I apologize for my earlier rudeness. I didn’t realize who you were.”

She still doesn’t speak.

I take a breath and straighten, letting my Alpha presence settle over me—not as a command, but as a show of respect. Of sincerity.

“I’m Alpha Declan Cross of Crescent Ridge Pack,” I say formally. “And I’m asking you—respectfully—to come back to the pack with us. Your services are desperately needed.”

The woman finally moves, turning slightly toward her car. Toward her children.

“I’m not interested,” she says, her voice cold and flat.

The rejection stings more than it should.

Antony steps forward, his excitement undimmed. “But Dr. W, we’ve been searching for you everywhere! The old Alpha couple, they’re—”

“Antony.” I cut him off sharply.

He stops mid-sentence, looking at me in confusion.

I shake my head once. That’s pack business. Confidential. We don’t discuss the state of my parents’ health with outsiders, no matter how desperately we need their help.

Antony’s face falls, but he nods and steps back.

I turn back to the masked woman, frustration building in my chest. She’s already moving toward the driver’s side of her car, clearly preparing to leave the moment her tire is fixed.

“Please,” I say, and the word comes out more desperate than I intended. “I recalled every member of my pack to find you. Every single wolf. We’ve been preparing for your arrival—a grand welcome, accommodations, anything you need.”

She pauses, her hand on the car door.

“The new Gamma is in charge of the preparations,” I continue, grasping for anything that might convince her. “She’s been working night and day to make sure everything is ready for you, even though she’s been ill herself. She’s eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

I remember something then—a detail from years ago that suddenly seems important.

“She’s young,” I add. “Recently succeeded the old Gamma. A she-wolf who... who used to be friendly with some of the lower-ranking pack members.”

The masked woman goes very still.

I see it—the shift in her posture. The way her shoulders drop slightly, the tension in her hands easing just a fraction.

She’s concerned.

About the Gamma?

I press the advantage, sensing her hesitation like blood in the water.

“We’re prepared to offer you whatever you need,” I say quickly. “Name your price. Money is no object. And as Alpha, I can offer you something more—I can accept you and your children into my pack. You wouldn’t be rogue anymore. Your pups could grow up with other werewolf children, learn with them, train with them. They’d have a real pack, a real home.”

The words tumble out faster now, fueled by a desperate need I don’t fully understand.

“They’d be safe. Protected. They’d have everything they need.”

The woman turns slightly, looking back at me. I can’t see her expression behind the mask, but something in her stance has changed.

She’s wavering.

I can feel it.

She’s thinking about her children. About giving them stability, safety, a pack to belong to. The life she’s been trying to build for them in the human world, always looking over her shoulder, always hiding—I can offer her freedom from that.

“Alright,” she says finally, her voice quiet.

My heart leaps.

“I’ll come to the pack.”

Antony lets out a whoop of excitement. My driver grins widely. Even I feel relief crash through me like a wave.

We found her. We actually found her.

My parents can be saved.

But then the masked woman holds up a hand, and everyone goes quiet.

“I have three conditions,” she says.

I hold my breath, waiting.

What could she possibly want? Money? Status? Protection? Whatever it is, I’ll give it to her. Anything to save my parents.

She straightens her shoulders, her voice turning firm and clear.

“First,” she says, “my children will never join your pack.”