Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 126

Nina

I woke to unfamiliar softness, and my first instinct was to freeze. The bed was too comfortable, the blanket too warm, the pillow smelling faintly of lavender and chamomile. Not the harsh medicinal scent of the station, not the musty damp of places I'd hidden before. This was different.

Memory crashed back: Silas's hands on my throat, Eileen's voice cutting through terror, the silver-black wolf that had driven him away. Being brought here. This cabin.

I sat up slowly, listening. Voices drifted from below—Eileen's gentle cadence and a deeper voice, controlled in that way Alphas had when deliberately restraining power. I padded to the door and cracked it open, staying hidden in shadow.

They were in the kitchen. Regis stood at the counter arranging food on plates while Eileen sat at the table, one hand on her rounded belly, the other wrapped around a steaming mug. Morning sunlight caught in her copper hair. When she looked up at him, her face held a softness I'd never seen anyone direct at a wolf before.

She caught his hand briefly, squeezing once before letting go. No fear. No flinching. Just trust.

Every instinct screamed this had to be a trap, but the longer I watched, the less convinced I became. No one was that good an actor when they thought no one was watching.

*You saw what he did to Silas*, a small voice whispered. *He would have killed him for touching you.*

But Alphas didn't care about people like me. This had to be different, another manipulation I hadn't learned to recognize yet.

Except Eileen had stayed with me last night. Had held my hand and told me her own stories of being hurt, being dismissed. Had looked at me like I was a person, not a thing. And she'd cried when she promised protection, as if my safety actually mattered.

I pressed my forehead against the doorframe. Part of me wanted to believe. Wanted so badly to believe someone might mean what they said. But belief had always been dangerous.

*But so does staying silent forever*, Eileen's words echoed. *So does accepting that you deserve to be hunted.*

I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and pushed the door open.

The conversation stopped. Regis went still, deliberately shifting backward, his Alpha presence pulling inward. Trying to make himself less threatening. For me.

"Nina." Eileen's face lit with what looked like genuine relief. "You're awake. How do you feel?"

"I'm... here." It was all I could manage, but she nodded as if I'd said something profound and gestured to the empty chair.

"Would you like breakfast? Regis made enough to feed an army."

I descended slowly, keeping my back to the wall. Regis moved to the counter and began preparing another plate, his hands steady and precise. Hands that could snap bones, now carefully slicing bread and arranging berries.

"I spoke to the Council this morning," he said quietly, addressing the room rather than me directly. "Formal charges have been filed against Silas Crowe for assault and abuse of authority. He's been removed from his position and won't be allowed near the medical station."

I stopped halfway to the table. "That fast?"

"We have witness testimonies and physical evidence. He won't hurt you again."

*If they find out what I am, none of that will matter.*

But I didn't say it. Couldn't bear to see the moment they realized protecting me was too much trouble.

"We'll keep you safe," Eileen said softly, her eyes steady. "Both of us. We're in this together."

*We.* She kept saying that, positioning herself alongside me as if we were allies. It made my chest tight.

But when Regis set the plate down and returned to his position by the counter, when Eileen pushed it closer with an encouraging smile, I found myself sitting. Found my hand reaching out to pick up a piece of bread.

It was still warm. Fresh. Made with care.

I took the smallest bite, and the simple goodness of it almost undid me. When was the last time anyone had offered me food made with care? When had anyone looked at me the way Eileen was looking now, like my basic needs mattered?

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Always," she replied, and something in her voice told me she meant more than just the bread.

---

The carriage ride back was surreal. Regis drove, personally ensuring we arrived safely. I sat beside Eileen, my body humming with tension, waiting for this fragile safety to shatter.

It didn't. Eileen chatted quietly about nothing important—the weather, the landscape, how she looked forward to getting back to work. Normal things that had nothing to do with my shame or secrets.

When the medical station came into view, the carriage door burst open and Mira launched herself at Eileen.

"How's your night with—" She cut herself off, her eyes darting between Eileen and me. "Oh. Nina?"

I didn't reply, just shrinking back.

Mira's attention returned to Eileen, hands on hips. "What's going on? When did you two become friends? Last I checked, Nina barely said three words to anyone, and now you're having sleepovers?"

Eileen stepped down carefully. "I ran into Nina yesterday evening. We got talking, and when it got late, I invited her to stay at the cabin. Seemed safer than walking back alone."

Such a simple lie. Such an ordinary explanation. And yet it covered everything—my panic, Silas's attack, the night I'd spent sobbing in her arms. She was protecting me, letting me keep dignity instead of becoming gossip.

I met her eyes, and she gave the smallest smile. A silent question.

I nodded, barely, and felt something crack open in my chest. No one had ever helped me like this before.

"Well." Mira looked between us with obvious suspicion but no malice. "I guess that's nice. Friends are good." She paused. "Even if some friends forget to invite their *best* friend."

"You can come visit anytime," Eileen said, laughing. "In fact, you're overdue. And Regis wouldn't mind."

Mira pouted, then suddenly dug into her bag. "Oh! I almost forgot. My parents sent care packages this morning." She pulled out a decorative box and presented it to Eileen. "For you, o pregnant and perpetually hungry one. Mom's convinced you're not eating enough."

Eileen accepted it with visible delight. "Your mother is a saint."

"Tell her yourself next time." Mira hesitated, then turned to me, her expression shifting to something more careful. "I have a smaller box. It's not much, just some of the same things, but..." She held it out—plain wood, a half the size of Eileen's. "If Eileen's treating you like such a good friend, then I guess I will too."

I stared at it like it might bite me. This had to be a test. Some trap where I'd reach and she'd snatch it away.

But Mira just stood there, patient. And when I finally extended my hand, she placed the box gently in my palm. The wood was warm from her bag. Real.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome." Mira grinned, then turned to Eileen. "But seriously, I'm coming to the cabin soon. I refuse to be left out."

They started walking, Mira chattering, Eileen making appropriately amused noises. I fell into step behind them, clutching the box.

*Maybe they really are different.*

I'd thought that before. Had believed promises that hid knives. But something about the casual way Mira had included me—not making a big deal, just deciding Eileen's friends were her friends—felt real.

I opened the box as I walked. Candied ginger, dried apple slices, honey-roasted almonds. Simple things. The kind friends shared. Thoughtfulness that said *you matter enough to be included*.

Ahead, Eileen glanced back, checking I was still there. When our eyes met, she smiled. Not pityingly. Just warmly. Like my presence was wanted.

*Maybe*, I thought, and this time I let myself lean into it instead of pushing away.