The Alpha’s Exiled Mate Chapter 23

The Alpha’s Exiled Mate Chapter 23

Freya’s POV

His fist connected with my stomach, the pain so intense I couldn’t breathe. The next few

minutes became a brutal one-sided beating. They attacked me methodically, avoiding lethal

areas but causing maximum pain. I tried to protect my head and abdomen, curling into myself,

but my internal organs still took serious hits.

“Don’t kill her,” one of them said. “Just make her understand the rules.” This confirmed my

suspicion-someone had ordered this.

I lay there, taking the punishment, protecting my vital areas and the inner pocket where I’d secured my phone and money. My wolf raged inside, demanding I fight back, but human rationality told me it was futile. In the Wilds, I’d learned that sometimes endurance was the

only path to survival.

Finally, seemingly satisfied with the damage they’d inflicted, they stopped. The leader bent down to my ear. “This is just a warning. Next time will be worse. Leave Moon Bay, or else…”

He left the threat unfinished, but it was clear enough.

After they left, I lay on the cold ground, hurting all over but conscious. My hand clutched the inner pocket of my jacket where I’d stored my money and phone. I’d managed to protect them

during the beating.

I don’t know how long I lay there, only feeling the night temperature gradually dropping, my

wounds aching more in the cold. Eventually, I forced myself to stand, muscles screaming in protest as I staggered forward. I needed to find somewhere safe for the night.

But when I tried to take a step, a sharp internal pain nearly brought me to my knees. My

organs were likely injured, more seriously than I’d thought. I needed medical help, which was

almost a luxury for an exile.

With this heavy realization, I moved painfully forward, seeking a corner where I could hide

until dawn. Each step was agony, but I forced myself to continue. Stopping meant giving up,

and I wouldn’t give up.

21

The night grew deeper, moonlight illuminating the Shadow District streets. Time and again,

when I thought life was improving, reality cruelly reminded me: for exiles, there was no safety,

no rest, only the hardship of survival and painful lessons.

But I was the last of the Riley family, and I wouldn’t fall easily. As long as I had breath, I

would continue searching for my family, continue fighting against fate.

The cool morning breeze caressed my face, waking me from a semi-conscious state. I blinked, trying to adjust to the painful daylight. I was lying in a secluded alley, my body aching from last night’s beating. But I was alive, which was already a victory. My fingers moved to my inner pocket, confirming my phone was still there, undamaged.

I tried to sit up, and an immediate sharp pain shot through my abdomen, making me gasp. I carefully touched my stomach, feeling obvious swelling and tenderness. My internal organs were likely injured, beyond what I could treat myself.

My wolf instincts told me I needed medical help, but regular hospitals weren’t friendly to exiles. I needed to find a place that would provide treatment without asking questions, which wasn’t impossible in the Shadow District, but usually came at a price.

Taking a deep breath that made my ribs scream in protest, I slowly, painfully stood up. Every movement felt like fire burning through my insides, but I forced myself to stay alert. I dragged my injured body forward, avoiding main streets, not wanting other wolves to see my weakness.

In the Wilds, showing vulnerability meant inviting attack. Even in the city, this principle

applied, especially for exiles.

I moved along alleys and back streets, heading for a deep area of the Shadow District where

underground clinics were rumored to exist. I’d heard about these places in bar conversations;

they weren’t picky about patients’ identities as long as you could pay.