Page 60 of The Alpha King’s Hidden Mute Mate

In the distance, the river kept flowing.

And she was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Zane

Five years.

One thousand eight hundred and twenty-seven days and nights.

I was fucking counting.

Every morning I woke up, it took me about three seconds to remember—oh, right. She was gone. Dead. I'd sent her down that road myself, hunted, and she'd let go right in front of me, plunged into that goddamn river.

Then those three seconds passed, and a new day of torture officially began.

I had the same dream every night.

In it, I stood at the edge of that cliff, moonlight glinting off the river below. She hung in midair, one hand clutching that branch, looking up at me. Those eyes—the ones that had shone like stars at the Howling Ceremony—held no fear, no plea for help. Only a cold, absolute calm.

Then she spoke. "I reject you, Zane, as my fated mate."

She rejected me in that final moment, then let go.

Her skirt spread in the moonlight like a blooming flower. Her eyes never left mine—until darkness swallowed her.

Then I woke up.

Every time, I lay there on a soaked pillow. I didn't know if it was sweat or tears. Didn't want to know.

Back then, I searched for her for five days and nights.

I ran along the riverbank like a madman, boots sinking into mud, branches lashing my face. Didn't care about any of it. I dove into that river, icy water flooding my lungs. I dove to the bottom, groped through the silt with my hands, nails tearing off, fingertips shredded. My men dragged me back to shore. I broke free and jumped back in.

On the third day, the search team found a scrap of fabric thirty kilometers downstream. Deep blue, edges ragged, torn by rocks and current. I knew that fabric. It was from the dress she'd worn that day.

On the fifth day, the elders banded together and stopped me. They told me she was dead. No body to recover. That river had undercurrents, whirlpools—no one could survive those conditions.

I didn't believe them.

I wanted to search farther myself. I'd comb every corner of this continent, dig up every inch of ground until I found her.

But the kingdom wouldn't let me go.

Neighboring countries circled like vultures. Internal affairs piled up like mountains. I was king, I was Alpha—chained to this throne, unable to move. All I could do was send out search party after search party, then receive the same response over and over—

Nothing.

No clues.

No her.

Every time I got that news, I broke down. The first time was in the council chamber, in front of all the ministers—I flipped the table, roaring at them to get out. The second was late one night in my study, alone, where I drank an entire bottle of whiskey and then smashed every decoration on the walls. The third, fourth, fifth times—I'd lost count. Breaking down became routine, as normal as eating or drinking.

As for the traitors—I didn't spare a single one.

That woman called Leah—I banished her the day I learned the truth. I didn't kill her. Death would have been too easy. I wanted her alive, living with everyone's contempt, watching herself lose everything.