Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 123

Eileen

The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around Nina's throat. I remained crouched behind the fallen log, my breath shallow despite the wild hammering of my heart. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to get help—but I forced myself to stay still, to listen, to understand what was unfolding.

"Your mother had more spirit," Silas continued, his hand at Nina's throat. "She screamed quite beautifully before we broke her."

Nina made a sound that wasn't quite words—a whimper from somewhere deep and primal. Her body had gone rigid against the birch trunk, every muscle locked in terrible stillness.

"The resemblance is quite striking, you know," he murmured, his free hand brushing Nina's thick bangs away from her face. She flinched violently. "Same eyes. Same delicate bones. Though you've filled out better than she did at your age." His fingers traced along her jaw. "And all this—the shapeless clothes, the hair hiding your face. So clever. Who would ever guess witch blood runs in your veins?"

*Witch blood.* The confirmation sent ice through my veins even as it answered so many questions about Nina.

Witches were supposed to be nothing more than folklore now—ancient enemies from the territorial wars centuries ago, before the Great Schism drove them into hiding or extinction. The history texts mentioned them only in passing: powerful healers who could manipulate living energy itself, whose blood was said to amplify any magic it touched. They'd vanished after the last great conflict, presumably scattered to distant lands or wiped out entirely. Most wolves my age had grown up thinking of witches the way we thought of dragons or fae—legends that belonged to dustier times, not flesh-and-blood people who could be hurt and hunted.

But the way Silas spoke of Nina's mother, the casual cruelty in his words, made it horrifyingly clear that some wolves had never stopped looking for them. Had never stopped *using* them.

"Do you know what your mother learned?" Silas's voice dropped lower. "How accommodating she became? Used to please me so prettily, beg so sweetly." He leaned closer. "You could do the same. Take her place, earn your keep. She understood her value in the end—what her witch blood was good for. The pleasures your kind can provide that no she-wolf ever could. If you're very good, if you please me the way she did, perhaps I'll even let you live. Perhaps you'll learn to enjoy it, just as she did before she took the coward's way out."

Nina's breathing had become rapid and shallow, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She was disappearing inside herself, retreating to whatever dark place had kept her alive through childhood horrors.

And something inside me *broke*.

I'd been Nina. I'd stood in that long elder's office ready to sign away my dignity because I'd been taught to suffer in silence. But I had Regis now. I had his voice telling me I deserved teeth. I had my daughter moving inside me, depending on me to keep her safe.

So I moved.

My hands shook as I backed away from the log, every step feeling like walking through water. But I forced myself to think, to remember Regis's words: *"If you're ever in real danger, don't try to fight a wolf head-on. Create chaos. Make noise. Use the environment."*

The stables. I was near the stables.

I moved as quickly as I dared, keeping to shadows. The stable door was open—negligent luck I sent a prayer of thanks for. Inside, a large bay stallion dozed in his stall, known for being high-strung and easily spooked.

Perfect.

My hands fumbled with the stall latch. It gave way with a soft click. I reached for the nearest thorn bush and snapped off a branch, the thorns biting into my palm.

*Forgive me,* I thought to the horse. Then I jabbed the thorns hard into his flank.

The stallion exploded into motion with a scream of rage. He burst from his stall like a force of nature, hooves clattering, eyes rolling white with panic. I threw myself sideways as he charged for the open door.

Straight toward the birch grove. Straight toward Silas.

The bond with Regis flared hot in my chest. I grabbed it mentally, sending pure distress through the connection—not words, but raw emotion. *Danger. Help. Nina. Now.*

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Regis's presence surged like a tidal wave, all protective fury and barely-leashed violence. Through the bond, a single command: *Run to me.*

I burst back toward the clearing just as the stallion thundered past the birch trees. There was a shout—Silas's voice, sharp with surprise—and then the crash of hooves and the splintering of wood as the horse collided with something. Dust and debris erupted into the air, creating a temporary screen.

Nina stood exactly where Silas had left her, frozen and staring. But Silas's hand had released her throat as he'd jerked away from the charging horse.

I didn't hesitate. I ran straight for her and grabbed her arm.

"Nina! Run!"

For one terrible heartbeat, she just stared at me with glassy, unfocused eyes. Then something in my voice reached her. Her legs unlocked, and she grabbed my hand with desperate strength.

Together we plunged into the forest.

Behind us, Silas's roar of rage echoed through the trees. "You'll regret this! Both of you!"

But we were already gone, crashing through underbrush and leaping over fallen logs. Nina was fast, but I had something she didn't—I knew these woods. Regis had shown me the hidden game trails during our walks.

I led us down one of those trails now, praying my memory was accurate. My lungs burned, my legs screamed protest, but Regis was closer now. I could feel him through the bond, could sense the exact moment he burst from the cottage and started running toward us.

We broke through the treeline just as Regis emerged from the opposite direction. He took in the scene instantly—Nina's tear-streaked face, my wild eyes, the way we were running—and his expression transformed into something I'd never seen before.

Pure, primal rage. An Alpha whose mate had been threatened.

"Inside," he ordered, his voice roughened by Valdor's presence. "Both of you. Now."

He was already turning, already positioning himself between us and the forest. I grabbed Nina's hand and pulled her toward the cottage, practically shoving her inside before following and slamming the door.

Through the window, I could see Silas emerge from the trees. He stopped when he saw Regis, his expression shifting from rage to calculation.

"Vane," he said. "What an unexpected pleasure."

"Leave." Regis's voice was flat, emotionless. "Leave my territory now, or I will make you leave."

"Your territory? This is neutral ground. Council business."

"Everything about this is personal." Regis took a step forward, and even from inside I could feel the wave of Alpha dominance. "You threatened my mate. You threatened a student under my protection. Start walking, or I start ripping."

Silas's confident facade cracked. His eyes darted to the cottage window, then back to Regis. Whatever he saw made him take an involuntary step backward.

"This isn't over," Silas said, his voice tight. "The Council will hear about this. About what she really is."

"The Council can take their concerns and shove them up their collective asses."

I felt the shift through the bond—Valdor pressing against Regis's skin, the barely-controlled urge to shift and hunt and kill. My hand pressed against the window glass.

*Regis. Please don't. Please stay in control.*

He went very still, his head turning slightly toward the cottage. And in that moment, Silas retreated, backing into the forest.

But just before the trees swallowed him, he called back: "You won't always be there to protect her, Vane."

Then he was gone. Regis stood trembling with the effort of not pursuing. I could feel every bit of that struggle through our bond.

Finally, slowly, he turned back to the cottage. The gold was fading from his eyes, but his face was still tight with violence. He looked at me through the window, and I saw the question: *Are you hurt?*

I nodded, pressing my palm against the glass. His hand rose to meet mine from the other side, and through that touch I felt his rage begin to bank.

He crossed to the door and pushed it open. His eyes swept over me first, checking for injuries. Then they moved to Nina, who had collapsed onto the floor, shaking with delayed shock.