Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 154: Help Me

Earlier, when I’d grabbed him too hard, I’d pulled his shirt loose. Now his collar sat crooked, showing a clean line of skin at his neck.

Standing in front of me like this, he looked completely different.

Tall. Solid. Steady.

His legs were long and strong. There was nothing wrong with them at all.

I knew he must have had his reasons, but irritation still bubbled up inside me. Without thinking, I lifted my foot and kicked his thigh.

He didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he shifted his weight onto that leg, and the strength beneath my foot was undeniable. Firm. Grounded.

All those times I’d held back. All those nights I’d been careful, afraid of hurting his pride. I hadn’t dared to ask. Hadn’t dared to touch.

Even when we were close, I’d never gone lower than his chest.

"Lewis," I snapped, "you liar."

He caught my leg easily and hooked it around his waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

"Elena," he said quietly, his voice low, "I’m sorry. I had my reasons. I never wanted to hurt you."

I glared at him. "You kept this up for so long. Why stop now?"

His dark eyes burned, sharp and hungry, the calm gone from them.

"Because," he said, his voice rough, "I want to give my mate everything."

My face heated instantly.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine, voice soft but dangerous.

"This stays between us. Promise me."

Even sitting on the piano, he had to bend down to meet my eyes. From this angle, I could see the shape of his chest through his shirt, the quiet power he’d been hiding.

My heart raced. I didn’t have the strength to fight him.

I nodded. "Fine."

He chuckled under his breath. "So obedient. Makes me want to keep you close."

I muttered, barely audible, "You already do."

Then his tone shifted, slower now.

"But you’re still tender. If I rush you, it would be like taking fruit before it’s ready."

So that was why he’d always stopped himself.

I laughed. "If you count both my lives, I’m old enough to lecture you."

He smiled, brushing my cheek. "Still soft. Still mine."

He pinched my cheek lightly, just enough to sting.

"So gentle," he murmured. "Like morning dew."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned against his chest.

"How long will you wait?"

"Until you choose me completely," he answered. His grip tightened slightly.

"Just don’t make me wait forever."

Listening to his heartbeat calmed me in a way nothing else could.

"Thank you," I whispered. "For waiting."

A knock broke the moment.

"Mr. Lewis," Theo’s voice came through the door. "Mr. Ashbourne is here."

Grant must have realized where the power truly lay. In Snowville, everyone knew who held the territory.

"Let him wait," Lewis said calmly.

He released me and straightened his clothes. Seeing how badly I’d messed up his shirt made my face burn again.

"Elena," he said, "I can help Lincy. But only if you want me to."

"No," I said firmly. "They made Riley and my mom suffer for twenty years. I won’t forgive that."

He nodded. "Understood."

I hesitated. "Am I being too cruel?"

He rested his hand on my head, gentle but steady.

"If anything," he said softly, "you’re being too kind. Do what your heart tells you."

Then, in the blink of an eye, he sat back into the wheelchair every movement flawless. The mask was back in place.

Even I had been fooled.

After he left, I picked up my shawl and stayed in the attic, playing the piano. I wasn’t the best, but I knew my limits.

The door creaked.

Juilain stepped inside.

"Elena..."

He stared at me for a moment before sinking down beside me, his expression heavy.

Ever since the night everything was laid bare in the snow, he’d been looking for a chance to speak to me alone.

And now, he finally had it.

By phone, Juilain could never say much. Too many ears. Too many risks.

Now that I was back at the Hale residence territory tightly controlled and watched he finally had his chance.

My fingers pressed the last piano key. The sound faded. I didn’t look at him right away.

"This place is safer than the outside," I said flatly. "But Camilla is still dangerous. No matter the situation, stop calling me that name."

I turned to him slowly.

"Unless you want me dead again."

Juilain stiffened.

I met his eyes, my voice steady but cold. "Juilain, it was unbearable. The blood. The fear. Even after I died, I couldn’t strike back. Now that I’ve been given a second chance... do you really want to see me lose again?"

"I don’t," he said quickly, pain flashing across his face. "I swear. I just want to make up for what I did."

"If you really want to make up for it," I replied, "then help me bring Camilla down. That’s the only redemption you get. Have you made any progress?"

He hesitated, then sighed.

"I’ve been distant for so long that suddenly changing might make her alert. But she hasn’t stopped reaching out."

He handed me his phone.

The screen showed his messages with Camilla. No pet names. No warmth. Just her full name.

I remembered how he used to save her contact soft, intimate.

Now it was stripped bare.

Most of the messages were hers. Complaints. Fear. How hard the pregnancy was.

Juilain’s replies were short. Careful. Mostly about the child.

I nodded. "You’re doing fine. She’s cautious by nature, but the child lowers her guard. Use that."

I gave him clear instructions what to say, what not to say. How to feed her trust without giving away control. How to let resentment grow without letting it turn toward me.

Juilain looked at me with desperation.

"Elena... if I help you finish this, can we start over?"

I felt nothing.

"The moment that knife went into me," I said calmly, "there was no starting over. What you’re doing now is just paying a debt."

His eyes dulled. "I understand."

I stood. "From now on, call me Riley. Don’t raise suspicion. Especially not with Camilla. She notices everything."

Then I added, "Her goal isn’t just me. She wants to tear down the Hales and the Sanders too. Helping me protects yourself."

"Alright," he said hoarsely. "I think I’ve caught a cold."

Once, I would’ve worried.

Now, I barely cared.

"Take medicine," I said. "If it gets worse, see a doctor."

I turned to leave.

Behind me, his voice cracked. "Elena... is there really no chance left for us?"

I didn’t slow down.

"No. None."

When I reached the living room, I saw Grant sitting stiffly on the couch. Monica stood nearby, eyes red and swollen.

The moment she saw me, she rushed over and grabbed my arm.

"Riley," she cried, "Lincy is your sister. You’re family. You have to save her. She’s still young she can’t go away like this!"

Her grip was tight. Desperate.

And for the first time, I truly understood how fear smells when someone is cornered.