The Alpha's Silent Mate

Chapter Three

Alisha's pov

Mikhail’s gaze burned into me, demanding answers.

"What did you do?"

The words echoed in my mind, heavy with something I couldn’t quite name.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t look away.

What did I do?

I sacrificed my voice.

For him.

For a man who now stood before me, eyes cold, filled with nothing but suspicion and denial.

Something inside me cracked.

I should have resented him.

Hated him.

But I didn’t.

I tried to explain, moving my hands.

"She wishes to speak," the elder said, his voice hoarse with years. His eyes met mine with something akin to understanding. "I can translate her signs."

Mikhail's gaze flickered between us. "Fine," he said gruffly. "Let her talk."

I took a slow, steady breath, then raised my hands, my fingers trembling slightly as I began to sign.

I was just a child when I first saw you.

The elder interpreted my movements smoothly, his voice filling the space between us. Mikhail’s expression didn’t change, but something in his stance shifted—something wary, almost hesitant.

It was late. My mother had just tucked me into bed. I remember the scent of lavender on my pillow, the way the moonlight cast silver beams through my window. I should have been dreaming of harmless things—of warm days and laughter. But instead, I saw you.

Mikhail’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. I continued, my hands moving faster now, desperate to pour out the story that had lived inside me for so long.

In my dream, there were two men. One stood over the other. The one on the ground was bloodied, chained—his wrists and ankles bound in silver, his body slumped with exhaustion. His breathing was ragged, his strength nearly gone. But even then… something about him felt familiar. Safe. As if I knew him.

Mikhail stiffened. His fingers twitched at his sides, but he didn’t interrupt.

The man standing above him held a silver knife. I was young, but I knew enough to understand what would happen next. The blade gleamed in the dim light, and the man smirked as he taunted the one in chains. I couldn't hear the words, but I saw the cruelty in his eyes. I saw the pain in the bloodied man's face—the silent resignation, as if he knew he wouldn't survive.

I swallowed hard, my fingers faltering for just a moment before I continued.

I wanted to stop it. I wanted to run to him, to shield him somehow. I reached out—tried to push through the space between us. But it was like an invisible force kept us apart, as if I was only a spectator to his suffering. And I—

I hesitated, my chest tight with the weight of that moment.

I started crying.

The elder’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke my words, and I saw a flicker of something in Mikhail’s eyes. A shadow of something buried deep, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

That’s when I heard it. A voice. A woman’s voice. Neither warm nor cold, neither cruel nor kind. It surrounded me, filled every part of the dream.

"Why do you weep, child?"

I turned, but there was no one there. Just the voice, everywhere and nowhere all at once. I pointed ahead, toward the man on the ground. Toward you. But the voice did not seem moved.

"Why does this trouble you?" it asked. "Why do you care for one you do not know?"

I didn’t understand the question. I just knew the truth—the raw, aching truth. That man was meant to live. I felt it deep in my bones.

"I don’t want him to die," I had pleaded. "Please, help him."

The voice was silent for a long time. Then, it spoke again.

"And what will you give to save him?"

The words sent fear skittering through my small body. But I didn’t hesitate.

"Anything."

The moment the word left my lips, I felt it. Power. Ancient, overwhelming power. It rushed through the space between us, filling the air with something electric. I turned back to the scene before me, and suddenly—

The chains broke.

The man in silver roared in rage as the bound man—you—surged to life. Power unlike anything I had ever seen filled your form, your muscles straining as the silver shackles snapped like twigs. Your strength returned all at once, and before the knife could strike, you caught your attacker’s wrist. The tables turned in a blink.

I watched, my heart pounding in relief. The voice was silent now, gone as if it had never been. But something told me I had made a deal that night. And I was happy with it. You were alive. That was all that mattered.

I woke up just as the first rays of dawn crept through my window.

But something was wrong.

I opened my mouth to call for my mother, to tell her about my dream. But no sound came.

Nothing.

I tried again. And again. But my voice was gone.

I didn’t understand, not then. I thought maybe I was sick, that my voice would return in a day or two. But days passed. Then weeks. My mother cried, my father searched for healers, but no one could fix what had been lost.

It wasn’t until years later that I learned the truth.

It wasn’t a dream. It was real. And the man I saved that night…

My hands slowed, and I lifted my gaze to Mikhail, my heart hammering.

Was you.

The cell fell into silence. Even the torches outside seemed to burn quieter, the air thick with something heavy, unspoken.

Mikhail didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He only stared, his face unreadable, his breathing slow and measured.

The silence between us stretched, thick and suffocating.

Then he laughed—low and bitter.

"You expect me to believe that?"

I froze.

He stepped closer, his towering frame blocking out the dim light of the cell.

"You think telling me this will change anything?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "That I’ll suddenly accept this bond?"

I shook my head.

That wasn’t what I wanted.

I just wanted him to know.

To understand.

His jaw clenched. "The Moon Goddess has a sick sense of humor."

The words hurt more than they should have.

"You think I’ll fall for this trick again?" He scoffed, his golden eyes flashing. "That I’ll believe this wasn’t some elaborate plan?"

My breath caught in my throat.

He didn’t believe me.

He wouldn’t believe me.

The weight of the truth pressed against my chest, suffocating. I had spent years dreaming of him, waiting for the day he would know the truth. But now, standing before him, I realized—

It didn’t matter.

He had already decided.

"You’re just like the others," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "You’ll betray me the moment you have the chance."

I wanted to scream that I wouldn’t. That I couldn’t.

But no words came.

I had no voice.

Only silence.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, then he turned away, his shoulders rigid with tension.

"Keep her locked up," he ordered. "She stays here until I decide what to do with her."

The cell door slammed shut behind him.

I sat there in the darkness, the weight of the past pressing down on me.

I had saved him once.

But who would save me?