The Cursed Alpha’s Mute Bride Episode 4

📖 The Story Continues

The Cursed Alpha’s Mute Bride – Episode 4

Hunter Silver’s command rolled through the clearing, shaking water from the leaves. Nikolaus’s companions retreated before pride caught up with instinct. Wren remained near the ground, gripping her branch until bark cut her palms. The feared Alpha looked powerful enough to justify every rumor, yet his anger settled on her attackers rather than her.

Nikolaus wiped the blood beneath his eye and straightened his ceremonial coat. “This is a family matter, Silver. The girl belongs to the Eclipse Pack. We were taking her home.” Hunter studied Wren’s torn cloak and bruised wrist, allowing the evidence to answer before he spoke.

“Three men cornered an unarmed woman in my territory,” Hunter said. His calm made Nikolaus’s excuse uglier. “If that is how Eclipse handles family, you should have remained across your border.” Clay moved beside Wren without blocking her escape and offered his forearm, waiting until she chose to use it.

That small courtesy nearly undid her. Wren rose with the branch still in one hand while Nikolaus watched, already shaping the lie he would carry home. “She lured us here,” he claimed. “The mute has always been desperate for attention. There is no reason for trouble between packs over someone like her.”

Wren flinched despite herself. Hunter noticed and fixed Nikolaus with a cold silver stare. “There is every reason for trouble when a man mistakes silence for consent.” The truth struck harder because no one had ever spoken it for her, and Nikolaus’s smile finally disappeared.

One of his companions shifted first, fur bursting along his arms as he charged. Hunter met him halfway and delivered one controlled blow that lifted the wolf from his feet. Clay intercepted the second attacker from behind, twisted his arm, and drove him into the earth before he reached Wren.

Nikolaus sprang with claws extended toward Hunter’s throat. Hunter turned just enough to avoid the slash, caught him by the coat, and hurled him across the clearing. Nikolaus struck a tree with a crack and collapsed to one knee, his arrogance giving way to fear.

His companions tried to rise until Hunter looked at them. “Take your future Alpha and leave. If you cross my border again with violence in your hearts, you will not receive another warning.” Clay released his captive, and the two men dragged Nikolaus toward Eclipse territory with their dignity forgotten.

Before the forest swallowed him, Nikolaus looked back at Wren. Hatred promised that the danger had been postponed, not ended. Then silence returned in pieces—the creek, falling water, and the rustle of a night creature. Wren’s body began shaking now that it no longer needed to fight, and the branch slipped from her fingers.

Hunter turned at the sound. The lethal focus left his face as he approached slowly with visible hands, stopping before she could feel trapped again. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, the Alpha command gone from his voice. “You are safe. May I see your wrist?”

No one asked permission before touching Wren. Gertrude seized, Anneliese shoved, and servants moved her like furniture. She stared at Hunter’s open hand, unsettled by the choice, then placed her bruised wrist in his palm. His fingers closed with extraordinary care as he checked the swelling without causing pain.

“Nothing feels broken?” he asked. Wren shook her head. When he asked her name, she tried to answer, but shame tightened with the curse and produced only a wounded breath. She braced for disgust, yet Hunter simply waited while she touched her throat and traced letters against her palm.

W. R. E. N. Hunter followed each movement, then repeated the name as though it deserved to be remembered. For years, people had called her mute, cursed, servant, and burden more often than they used the name her father chose. Hearing it in Hunter’s voice awakened an unfamiliar warmth.

Clay recovered her wet dress and torn cloak before stepping away to inspect the border. Hunter removed his dark coat and settled it around Wren’s shoulders. Pine and clean smoke surrounded her, carrying the same powerful scent that marked the cedar at the edge of his land.

Their eyes met. The clearing narrowed until Wren heard only rushing water and her uneven heartbeat. Safety was too fragile a word for what moved through her. It felt like recognition without memory, an impossible sense that a lost part of herself had turned toward him in the dark.

Deep inside the silence where her wolf should have lived, something stirred. The sensation was no more than warmth brushing a locked door, but Wren nearly gasped. She had not felt that hidden presence since the night Gertrude cursed her, and hope collided painfully with fear.

Hunter went rigid. Wren’s scent—vanilla, rain, and something uniquely hers—filled the air as his wolf surged with a certainty no discipline could deny. The beast he had spent years controlling pressed one ancient word into every bone of his body.

Mate. Hunter understood why his fury had felt personal before he knew her name. Fate had tied him to Wren Wolfhart, the silent woman Nikolaus had dismissed as worthless, and the bond sparked between them with unquestionable force.

Wren saw recognition transform Hunter’s eyes. Instead of joy, panic took hold. Whatever he felt now would surely become disappointment when he remembered she had neither voice nor wolf. She could not stand there and watch his kindness turn into the rejection she knew too well.

She stepped back, gathered Hunter’s coat around herself, and ran toward the border before he could stop her. Hunter remained beside the creek, stunned by the force of the bond and the fear it had caused. The woman vanishing through the trees was not merely someone he had rescued—the cursed mute was his fated mate.