Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 110

## Regis

The training encampment was exactly as I remembered it—I had also been trained here for a month—functional, austere, and utterly devoid of comfort. Rows of tents stretched across a cleared field, their peaked roofs snapping in the wind. Beyond them lay the drilling grounds, already marked with practice dummies and weapon racks. To the west, a crude wooden structure served as the command post, its interior lit by lamps that flickered through the windows as dusk settled over the border.

I dismounted, handed the reins to a waiting attendant, and rolled my shoulders to ease the tension that had been building since the fork in the road. The separation from Eileen gnawed at me—not painfully, but persistently, like an itch I couldn't scratch. Through the bond, I could feel her: settled, calm, her emotions tinged with fatigue but steady. She was safe.

*For now.*

Valdor stirred restlessly in the back of my mind, uneasy at the distance. *She is far.*

*Not so far,* I told him. *Half an hour's ride at most. And she has Mira. She has Dr. Hawthorne.*

*She should have us.*

I didn't argue. He was right. But this was the reality we'd chosen—or rather, the reality the Council had forced upon us. Eileen had to prove herself on her own terms, and I had to trust her to do it.

Still, the thought of Silas lurking in her vicinity made my jaw tighten.

I pushed through the command post door, ducking slightly to clear the frame. Inside, the space was cramped but organized: a wide desk covered in maps and supply lists, a weapon rack along one wall, a pair of worn chairs flanking a cold hearth. It would do.

I'd barely set my pack down when my communicator buzzed. I pulled it out, and the tension in my chest eased the moment I saw her name.

*"We arrived safely. The outpost is clean and organized, and Dr. Hawthorne seems kind. The baby and I are both fine. Don't worry."*

Then: *"I miss you."*

I stared at those three words longer than I should have, something warm and unfamiliar tightening in my chest. Valdor rumbled with satisfaction, his presence settling into something almost... content.

I typed back quickly, forcing myself to keep the message measured even as part of me wanted to write more—wanted to tell her that I hated being apart from her, that every instinct I had was screaming at me to ride back to the outpost and stand guard at her door.

Instead, I wrote: *"I'm glad you're safe. Rest when you can, and don't push yourself. Let me know immediately if anything feels wrong."*

I hesitated, then added: *"I miss you too."*

The reply was almost instant—just a small heart symbol. I allowed myself a faint smile before pocketing the device and turning my attention back to the room.

---

As twilight deepened, I made my way to the training grounds where the Beta instructors had already begun organizing the students. I'd brought three experienced combat trainers with me—all veterans I trusted to maintain discipline in my absence. They stood at attention as I approached, their postures respectful but not servile.

"Alpha Vane," the senior instructor—a grizzled Beta named James—greeted me with a crisp nod.

"James." I surveyed the assembled students, noting the mixture of eagerness and apprehension on their faces. Most were competent enough not to require constant supervision but still green enough to benefit from border experience. "How are they settling in?"

"Well enough. A few complaints about the accommodations, but nothing unexpected." His tone was dry. "I've assigned evening drills to keep them occupied. Figured it's better than letting them sit around and get nervous."

"Good thinking." I turned to address the group briefly, my voice carrying across the field. "Tomorrow morning, we begin in earnest. Basic conditioning at dawn, followed by tactical formations. You'll rotate through patrol simulations and night watch duties. This is not the Academy—out here, mistakes have consequences. I expect discipline, focus, and respect for the chain of command. Understood?"

A chorus of "Yes, Alpha" echoed back.

I dismissed them with a nod and turned back to James. "I need to meet with Commander Garrick tonight. You have command until I return."

"Understood, sir."

---

Garrick—the border garrison commander—was a Gamma with a reputation for efficiency and a face that looked like it had been carved from stone. He arrived precisely on time, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor as he stepped into the command post. He offered a salute. "Alpha Vane."

"Commander Garrick." I gestured to the chair across from me. "Sit."

He did, his posture rigid, his hands resting on his knees. "I want you to coordinate logistics for the training exercises."

"Among other things." I kept my tone measured, professional. "For the next three months, the training camp and medical outpost will need to work in close coordination. I'll need your full support to make that happen."

"You'll have it, Alpha Vane." His voice was steady, but there was something guarded in his expression. "I know the border. I know what works."

I nodded, studying him carefully. "Good. I need your men to ensure supply routes to the outpost remain secure—Dr. Hawthorne's medical supplies are critical, and any disruption could cost lives. I also want regular patrols around the outpost itself. The healers there need to focus on their work, not worry about security."

"Understood. I'll assign rotating patrols." He paused, then added with a slight edge to his voice, "Though Hawthorne runs a tight ship over there. He's got his own rules, his own way of doing things. I try not to interfere."

There was something in the way he said it—a note of caution, perhaps even warning.

I leaned back slightly, keeping my expression neutral. "Speaking of the outpost... I understand Silas Crowe has been stationed at the border for some time. You've worked with him?"

Garrick's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. The silence stretched for a heartbeat too long before he answered. "Five years," he said carefully. "Silas has been here two years."

"And?" I prompted, watching him closely.

"He's competent," Garrick said slowly, choosing each word with evident care. "But..." He trailed off, his scarred face unreadable.

"But what?"

He exhaled through his nose, a sound caught between frustration and resignation. "I'm just a garrison commander, Alpha Vane. I don't make judgments about Council appointees. But I've learned to be... cautious around certain people."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Silas Crowe is not a simple man." Garrick's voice dropped lower. "I've heard he was assigned to monitor your mate. All I'll say is—he's not someone I'd turn my back on."

The words landed like a stone in my gut, but I kept my expression calm. "If he's problematic, why hasn't he been removed?"

Garrick's mouth twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile. "I don't have that kind of authority. And even if I did..." He shook his head. "Men like Silas Crowe don't get removed easily. They have protections. Connections."

Cornelius. Of course.

My hands curled into fists beneath the desk, but I forced my voice to remain level. "I see. Thank you for your candor."

Garrick's eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw something almost like sympathy there. "If you're asking my advice, Alpha Vane—watch him carefully. But don't give him a reason to report back to whoever sent him. Men like that... they're always looking for leverage."

I nodded slowly, my mind already working through the implications. If I went to the outpost now, if I openly monitored Silas, it would confirm Cornelius's narrative—that I was interfering with the evaluation, that I couldn't be trusted to let Eileen prove herself fairly.

But if I did nothing...

No. I couldn't do nothing. But I had to be strategic.

"Thank you, Commander," I said finally. "Your insight is valuable."

Garrick rose, inclining his head. "I'll make sure the patrols are in place by morning. If you need anything else—"

"Actually," I said, an idea crystallizing in my mind, "there is one more thing. In a few days, I'll need to visit the medical outpost—to check on any students who've been injured during training. It's standard procedure."

It wasn't, really. But it was plausible enough.

Garrick's scarred face split into something that might have been approval. "Of course, Alpha. I'll make sure my men know to expect you."

After he left, I sat alone in the dim light, turning the problem over in my mind. I couldn't go to Eileen now—not without raising suspicion. But in a few days, under the guise of checking on injured students, I could observe Silas without making it obvious I was watching.

In the meantime, I would need to gather more information—quietly, through other channels.