The Transplanted Mate

Between Silence

Briar’s POV

She shouldn’t have looked up. That was the first thought that followed her back into the shadows. If Maddic noticed, there would be repercussions. She repeated it over and over again, steady as her breathing, as she slipped silently along the wall and back into the space where she belonged—unseen, unnoticed, forgotten.

She shouldn’t have looked up.

Not at him.

Not at anyone.

Her hands were steady. That was the part she focused on. Not the way her chest still felt too tight. Not the strange echo left behind where his presence had been. Not the way something inside her had… shifted.

Just her hands.

Steady.

Controlled.

Normal.

She always listened. Never faltered when it mattered. But the pull he had on her. She just couldn't resist it and that didn't sit right with her.

The rest of her shift passed in silence.

It always did.

She moved where she was needed, anticipating before being told, adjusting before being corrected. Plates were replaced. Glasses refilled. Floors wiped clean of things no one wanted to acknowledge. After all, they didn't have to clean it. They never would. She did not look toward the head of the table again. Reluctant to make the mistake twice.

But she felt him.

It made no sense. And yet there was a weight to his presence.

Different from Maddic.

Different from anyone she had ever known.

It didn’t press down.

It pulled.

Softly, but also dangerously.

By the time the hall began to empty, Briar’s body felt tight with the effort of holding herself together. Her shift was over, thank goddess. She knew better than to linger. She moved quickly through the corridors, keeping to the edges, avoiding the main paths where higher ranks still walked and talked and laughed. The further she stayed from them, the better. And the further she got from the main hall, the easier it became to breathe. The familiar cold of the lower quarters welcomed her back.

Safe, in the only way it could be.

She didn’t hear him at first.

“Briar.”

Her entire body was locked.

Slowly—She turned.

Alpha Maddic Black stood at the end of the corridor.

And this time he wasn’t composed. His expression was tight. Control wasn't the right word this time. It was something barely held back.

“You disobeyed me,” he bellowed.

Briar’s pulse stuttered, she knew exactly what he was talking about. The eye contact. “I—” she stopped herself, forcing her voice steady. “I was called forward to serve the Alpha.”

He took a step closer. “And you were seen.” His awful stench hitting her nostrils again. Her stomach dropped.

“I told you,” he continued, voice lowering but more demanding, “You are not to draw attention to yourself.”

“I didn’t—” she was cut off.

The blow came faster than she could finish. Pain exploded across her face as his fist struck her, snapping her head back against the stone wall behind her. The impact cracked through her skull, white-hot and blinding. Her knees buckled and she hit the ground hard. The taste of blood flooded her mouth instantly.

Warm. Thick. Familiar.

“Do not lie to me.” He was relentless. His voice echoed above her, cold and sharp.

“I didn’t—” she tried again, but the words came out broken, slurred around the blood.

Maddic landed another strike. This one split her cheek. She didn’t even feel it at first. Only the force of it. The way her body jerked with the impact. The way the world tilted sideways. She had gotten used to this, except he always used an open hand. Then again, she had never seen him this angry.

“You were seen,” Maddic snarled. “By him.”

Her ears rang, and her vision blurred, making it hard to focus. Although at that moment she would rather be anywhere but there.

“I told you what would happen,” voice booming this time. He was losing control. She curled instinctively, arms tightening around herself—not to fight. Never to fight. Only to endure. “I told you to remain nothing.”

The next hit never landed.

“Enough.” The word cut through the corridor like a blade. Direct and final.

Everything stopped. Briar’s breath caught. Maddic froze.

Slowly. Briar lifted her head. Thats when she saw him.

Axel Stone stood at the far end of the corridor, his presence filling the space in a way that made everything else feel smaller. Sharper. More dangerous. His gaze was locked on Maddic. Lethal.

Maddic straightened slightly, tension snapping into place. You could see him struggling to regain his control he was usually so skilled at. “Alpha King,” he said tightly. “This does not concern you.”

Axel took one step forward making the air shift and tensions rise. “It does,” he said. The control Maddic was lacking, the Alpha King was not. Axel was quiet and controlled. Far more dangerous than shouting.

Maddic’s jaw tightened. “She is a transplant. Discipline is required—”

“Discipline,” Axel cut in, voice still even, “does not require this.” He gestured between Briar and Maddic. His gaze flicked briefly to Briar. And something in it changed.

It wasn't soft or gentle, but it wasn't indifference either.

Briar’s breath hitched and Maddic noticed. Of course he did.

“She overstepped,” Maddic said. “She was seen. That reflects on this pack.”

Axel’s eyes returned to him. “And this,” he said quietly, “reflects on you.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

Maddic held his gaze for a moment longer. Then stepped back. “Of course, Alpha King,” he said, the words rigid. “It will not happen again.”

Axel didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Maddic turned and walked away. Just like that.

Leaving Briar on the floor. Broken and bleeding.

Silence filled the corridor again.

Briar didn’t move. She didn’t know how. She did know that when Alpha Axel leaves, she would be punished for this interaction later, even though it was entirely on Alpha Axel and not her.

Footsteps approached but lighter this time. Gentler. More feminine.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Warm hands replaced the cold stone beneath her. She reconigzed her as the female that arrived with the Alpha King. She was sat beside him at the table. Petite and blonde. Beautiful in every way that Briar would never be. But Tally's voice was soft, and seemed concerned.

No one spoke to her like that.

“Easy,” Tally murmured, carefully lifting her. “I’ve got you.” Briar flinched slightly at the movement, a quiet sound escaping before she could stop it. “I know,” Tally said gently. “I know.” She didn’t ask permission to help. Tally didn’t even hesitate. She just… helped. Briar wasn’t used to that.

The room Tally brought her to was warmer than the bunker. It was cleaner and quieter too. It was also safe.

Briar sat stiffly as Tally pressed a damp cloth gently into her face, wiping away blood with careful, practiced movements. “This is going to sting,” she warned softly.

Briar gave a small nod. It did. But not more than before.

Tally worked in silence for a moment. But then asked her a question, “What’s your name?”

Briar blinked. “Briar,” she said quietly.

Tally smiled slightly. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Briar didn’t know what to do with that.

Silence stretched again. But this time it wasn’t heavy.

“What happened to you?” Tally asked gently.

Briar hesitated. “Nothing,” she said automatically.

Tally’s hand stilled. Then resumed. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Briar looked down. “I’m a transplant.”

That was explanation enough. Tally’s expression softened. “Do you have family?”

“No.” The answer came easily. It always did.

“None at all?”

Briar shook her head. “I was left at the orphanage.”

Tally’s brows drew together slightly. “With nothing?” That didn't seem right. Normally, paperwork, health histories or something would be left with the child.

Briar wavered. “Just a photograph.”

Tally glanced at her. “Of who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Names?”

Briar shook her head again. “Just… words.”

Tally leaned back slightly. “What kind of words?” Was she always this curious?

Briar swallowed. She hadn’t said them out loud in a long time. “They don’t mean anything,” she said quietly. Thinking Tally was only asking to have a conversation, to be nice.

Tally waited. Something in her expression made it hard not to answer.

“They say…” Briar stumbled, then forced the words out, “You are not just a wolf, child… you are what the moon left behind.”

Silence filled the room.

Different this time. Tally’s hand stilled completely. And slowly she looked at Briar. Really looked. Her gaze moved to her eyes.

Gold.

“Well,” Tally said, returning to her work, her voice gentler than before, “whoever left you… was trying to tell you something.”

Briar looked down again. “I don’t think it matters.” Because it never had. People never told her anything, they only gave orders.

Tally didn’t answer right away. But her hand remained steady. Warm and careful.

And for the first time in Briar’s life—

She didn’t feel completely alone.