Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 112

Eileen

The third morning at the dispensary dawned cold and still. I woke with a vague sense of unease, the kind that settled low in my belly and refused to be shaken off. Through the bond, I could feel Regis stirring awake miles away—a distant warmth that steadied my breath even as worry gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.

By the time I'd dressed and made my way to the main hall, Dr. Hawthorne's assistant was already waiting. "Miss Wylde," she said briskly, "the doctor would like to see you in his office."

My heart gave an anxious lurch. Had I done something wrong? Made a mistake in yesterday's work that I hadn't noticed? I smoothed down the front of my tunic, straightened my shoulders, and followed her through the narrow corridors to the administrative wing.

When I knocked and entered, Dr. Hawthorne looked up from behind his desk with his usual professional calm. But it was the man standing beside him who drew my attention—a middle-aged figure in the pressed uniform of a border council observer, his posture relaxed and his face arranged in an expression of benign warmth.

"Ah, Miss Wylde," Dr. Hawthorne said, gesturing me forward. "This is Mr. Silas Crowe, the observer sent by the council. Mr. Crowe, this is Eileen Wylde."

So this was the man assigned to oversee me.

His smile deepened as he extended a hand. His grip was firm but not crushing, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that might have been kind. "Miss Wylde," he said, his voice smooth and pleasant. "I've heard a great deal about you. Your work saving those warriors at the academy—quite impressive for someone so young."

I blinked, caught off guard by the praise. "Thank you, sir. I only did what needed to be done."

He gave me a soft chuckle, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder in what seemed like an encouraging gesture. "The border needs healers like you." His gaze flicked briefly—so briefly I almost missed it—to my midsection before returning to my face. "I do hope the conditions here aren't proving too difficult. Pregnancy can be taxing even under the best circumstances."

My throat tightened. He knew. Of course he knew—the council had access to all our records. But the casual way he'd mentioned it, the faint edge beneath his warm tone, sent a shiver down my spine.

"I'm managing well, thank you," I said carefully.

"Good, good." He clasped his hands behind his back, the picture of geniality. "I should explain—I'm here at the council's request to observe how you are adjusting. I felt it prudent to wait a few days before intruding, to give you time to settle in. That's why I didn't come here until today."

There was something almost rehearsed about the way he said it, as though he'd given this speech before. Dr. Hawthorne nodded along, his expression neutral. "Miss Wylde has been an asset to the team," he said. "Her botanical knowledge is excellent, and her instincts for triage are sharp."

"Wonderful to hear." Silas's smile never wavered. "I won't interfere with your work, Miss Wylde. In fact, I encourage you to continue exactly as you have been. If any issues arise—professional or personal—please don't hesitate to seek me out."

"Thank you, sir."

He inclined his head and moved toward the door, pausing just at the threshold to glance back. "One more thing," he said lightly. "The border can be unpredictable. Accidents happen. Do take care of yourself."

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

I stood there for a moment, unsure why my pulse was racing. Dr. Hawthorne returned to his paperwork as though nothing unusual had occurred, and after a moment's hesitation, I excused myself and stepped back into the corridor.

*He seemed… fine*, I told myself as I walked back toward the work hall. *Regis was probably just being cautious. Maybe I'm overthinking this.*

---

By evening, I was exhausted. The day's work had been routine—checking supplies, assisting with minor wounds, reviewing case notes—but the encounter with Silas Crowe had left me on edge in a way I couldn't quite articulate.

When I pushed open the door to our shared quarters, Mira was already there, sprawled on the couch with a hunk of bread in one hand and a scowl on her face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, setting down my satchel.

She gestured dramatically toward Nina's closed door. "Her. That's what's wrong."

I frowned, glancing at the shut door. "What happened?"

"She came back this afternoon looking like she'd seen a ghost," Mira said, tearing off a piece of bread with more force than necessary. "White as a sheet, wouldn't say a word. I asked if she was okay, and she just looked right through me and slammed into her room like I wasn't even there."

I moved closer, lowering my voice. "Did she say anything at all?"

"Not a damn thing. But I heard her in there—moving stuff around, throwing things. It sounded like she was tearing the place apart." Mira shook her head, her frustration giving way to something closer to concern. "I don't know what crawled up her ass, but it's unsettling."

I walked over to Nina's door and knocked gently. "Nina? Are you all right?"

Silence.

I tried again, softer this time. "If something's wrong, we can help—"

"Don't," came her voice from inside, sharp and brittle. "Just leave me alone."

I stepped back, my hand falling to my side. Through the door, I could hear the faint sound of uneven breathing, as though she were trying very hard not to cry.

Mira watched me return to the sitting area, her expression troubled. "See what I mean? She's been weird before, but this is different."

I sank into the chair across from her, my thoughts tangled. Nina had always been distant, but there had been something almost frantic in her voice just now. Something that spoke of fear rather than anger.

*What could have frightened her so badly?*

"Forget about her for now," Mira said, though her tone lacked its usual conviction. "How was your day? Did you meet that observer guy?"

I nodded slowly, grateful for the change of subject. "I did. Mr. Crowe."

"And?"

"He seemed… fine," I said, though even as I spoke, doubt crept into my voice. "Polite. Professional. He said if I needed anything, I could ask him for help."

Mira raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Nothing creepy?"

"No," I said, though the memory of his too-smooth smile made my skin prickle. "He was just doing his job, I think. Checking in on me."

She leaned back, munching thoughtfully on her bread. "Well, at least he's not some hardass who's going to make your life miserable. Regis was probably just being overprotective."

I wanted to believe that. But as I sat there, staring at Nina's closed door, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

*Regis was worried for a reason*, I thought. *I just don't know what it is yet.*

---

*Looking back now, I realize how naïve I was. How easily I let his warmth disarm me, how quickly I dismissed the warning signs. If I had trusted my instincts and helped Nina out, maybe things would have turned out differently.*

*Maybe we wouldn't have suffered what came next.*

*But I didn't. And by the time I understood the truth, it was already too late.*