Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 118

Regis

The supply depot smelled of canvas and dried herbs, underlaid with the faint metallic tang of weapon oil. I ran my hand along the nearest shelf, counting bundles of bandages with the methodical precision that had kept soldiers alive on a dozen campaigns. Twelve. The ledger said eighteen.

I moved to the next row. Dried venison, wrapped in oilcloth. Twenty-three bundles where the records claimed thirty-five. Moonwort extract—critical for treating infected wounds—sat at barely half the documented quantity.

My jaw tightened as I cross-referenced the physical count against the supply master's latest report. The numbers on parchment were pristine, balanced to the last copper coin. No corrections, no annotations explaining discrepancies. Just neat columns that bore no relation to the reality before me.

Valdor stirred uneasily in my chest. *Something's wrong.*

I knew. The question was how wrong, and who was responsible.

"Send for Commander Garrick," I told the young Beta stationed at the depot entrance. He saluted and disappeared into the afternoon light, leaving me alone with rows of half-empty shelves and a growing sense of unease that had nothing to do with missing supplies.

Garrick had fought in the northern campaigns, held the line when younger wolves broke and ran. He was known for his steady, methodical character. This wasn't a mistake he should have made.

Which meant it probably wasn't a mistake at all.

The communicator in my pocket hummed softly. Eileen's presence brushed against my mind through the bond, warm and concerned.

I'd promised to meet her at the cabin tonight. We'd been apart for three days while I dealt with a skirmish near the northern watchtower, and the bond hummed with anticipation of reunion. I could almost feel the weight of her in my arms, smell the lavender and chamomile scent that clung to her skin after a day in the medical station.

But standing here among empty shelves and perfect ledgers, I knew that reunion would have to wait.

Footsteps approached—measured, military. Garrick filled the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the late afternoon sun. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Close the door."

He did, though something flickered across his weathered features. Surprise, perhaps. Or wariness.

I gestured at the shelves. "Walk me through your inventory process."

"Sir?" His tone held just a shade too much confusion for a man who should have anticipated this question the moment he received my summons.

"Physical counts versus ledger entries. How often do you verify them personally?"

A pause. Brief, but telling. "The supply master handles day-to-day operations. I review the ledgers weekly, ensure everything balances."

"And physical inspections?"

"Monthly audits by the depot staff. They report any discrepancies to the supply master, who adjusts the records accordingly." Garrick's shoulders had stiffened almost imperceptibly. "Has there been a problem?"

I picked up a bundle of bandages, weighing it in my palm. "These shelves are thirty percent understocked. Moonwort extract is at half documented levels. Dried meat, medical supplies, even basic rations—all short." I met his eyes. "Yet your ledgers show perfect inventory control."

His expression barely shifted, but his scent changed—a subtle spike of something that might have been alarm beneath the usual leather and woodsmoke. "That's... unexpected. I'll have the supply master—"

"When did you last personally verify a physical count?"

The question landed like a blade between his ribs. Garrick had been a soldier long enough to recognize an interrogation when it started. "I... rely on my staff for ground-level operations. My duties require—"

"You have a deputy." I kept my voice level, though Valdor's growl rumbled beneath my words. "Why isn't he conducting these audits?"

Silence. Garrick's jaw worked as though chewing on words he couldn't quite spit out.

"This isn't like you," I continued, watching him carefully. "You don't delegate critical oversight to clerks and hope for the best."

"Sir, if there's been a failure in my command—"

"I'm not asking if there's been a failure. I'm asking why." I set the bandages down with deliberate care. "You're a career officer. You know what missing supplies mean on an active border. Either you've grown dangerously complacent, or something else is happening here."

His throat bobbed. For a moment I thought he might speak, might offer some explanation that would make this make sense. Instead he straightened, falling back on military formality like armor. "I'll investigate immediately and provide you with a full report by morning."

"Dismissed."

He left quickly—too quickly for a man with nothing to hide.

I stood alone in the depot as shadows lengthened across half-empty shelves. The missing supplies themselves weren't catastrophic. We had reserves, and the shortfalls wouldn't cripple operations in the immediate term. But the pattern troubled me far more than the gaps.

Perfect ledgers. Conveniently delegated oversight. A commander who suddenly couldn't explain his own procedures.

And all of it happening while Silas Crowe—Council observer, political operative, and quite possibly something worse—lurked around the medical station where my pregnant mate worked under evaluation.

Valdor paced in my mind, hackles raised. *Coincidence?*

*No.* I pulled out my communicator, thumb hovering over Eileen's contact. She'd be finishing her shift soon, expecting to hear when I'd arrive at the cabin. Expecting the night we'd both been counting toward.

My chest constricted. Through the bond I could feel her anticipation, warm and bright despite the exhaustion of a long day. She'd been so strong these past weeks, proving herself to skeptical soldiers and hostile observers alike. Tonight was supposed to be refuge. Rest. Us.

But if I was right about what these missing supplies implied—if someone in Garrick's command was compromised, if the camp had been penetrated by hostile elements—then Eileen was in more danger than either of us had realized. The medical station sat barely two miles from here, protected by protocols I'd personally established. Protocols that assumed the officers enforcing them could be trusted.

I couldn't go to her tonight. Not until I knew what we were facing.

My finger moved to her contact, then away. Then back. The bond thrummed with her presence, so close and yet impossibly distant. Finally I forced myself to type.

*Emergency situation in camp. Can't make it tonight. I'm sorry, love.*

The message felt inadequate. Cold. But I couldn't risk saying more over potentially compromised channels, and I couldn't bear to hear the disappointment in her voice if I called.

Her response came quickly. *Is everything okay?*

*Just politics and logistics. Nothing dangerous.* The lie tasted sour, but the truth would only frighten her. *Rest well. I'll see you soon.*

*I love you.*

*I love you too.*

I pocketed the device before I could say anything more. Before I could promise things I wasn't certain I could deliver. Through the bond I felt her acceptance warring with disappointment, felt her deliberately soothing her own worry so it wouldn't echo back to me. Always trying to make things easier for everyone else, even when she had every right to demand more.

The last light was fading when I finally left the depot. Kieran was in the capital, too far for mind link to reach reliably across this distance. I'd have to use the communicator for this too, though at least military channels had better encryption than civilian lines.

I drafted the message carefully. *Need background on Commander Garrick. Full history, recent contacts, financial records if possible. Highest priority. Respond to this channel only.*

Kieran would understand the implications. He'd been with me long enough to know I didn't ask these questions lightly.

I sent the message and stood in the gathering dark, looking toward the distant lights of the medical station. Somewhere in one of those buildings, Eileen was probably preparing for bed, maybe reading over patient notes or brewing tea with Mira. Safe for tonight. Watched by guards who still answered to me.

But if I was right—if the rot went deeper than simple theft—then safety was a thinner shield than I'd believed.

Valdor growled low and dangerous. *Find the threat. Eliminate it.*

*I will,* I promised him. Promised myself. Promised Eileen, who couldn't hear but deserved the vow anyway.

Whatever shadow had crept into my command, I would drag it into the light. Before it could reach her.

Before anything else could threaten the future we were building one careful day at a time.

I turned back toward headquarters, leaving the darkened depot behind. There would be no sleep tonight, no reunion with my mate. Only questions that needed answering before dawn.

And if those answers led where I suspected, then Goddess help whoever had decided my mate's safety was an acceptable price for their schemes.

Because I would show them no mercy at all.