Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 128

Eileen

I moved between patient beds, checking dressings and updating treatment charts. Nearly a day had passed since the confrontation in the birch grove, since I'd watched Silas threaten Nina with the same casual cruelty one might use to discipline a disobedient dog, since Regis had driven the monster away. The memory still made my chest tight, but beneath the lingering fear sat something harder, something that had been crystallizing throughout the day.

Nina's secret wasn't mine to tell. She'd spent fifteen years hiding what she was, surviving through silence and careful invisibility, and I would not be the one to strip that protection away simply because I now knew the truth. Her witch blood, her mother's torture, the scars that marked her body and soul—those were hers to reveal or conceal as she chose.

But knowing that didn't ease the weight pressing against my ribs every time I glanced across the treatment room to where Nina worked in careful isolation, her movements precise and her expression blank in that way I'd come to recognize as her armor against the world. I saw myself in her rigid shoulders, in the way she made herself small and silent, in the haunted watchfulness that never quite left her eyes.

We were different versions of the same survival strategy—she'd learned to hide her dangerous heritage while I'd learned to apologize for my shameful lack of one, but we'd both been taught that our existence was something to minimize, something to make palatable to those who held power over our lives.

My hand rested on the small swell of my abdomen. I didn't want my child born into this world. Not this version of it, where people like Nina had to bury their gifts to avoid execution, where people like I'd been were made to feel grateful for basic dignity. The fierce protectiveness that surged through me wasn't just for the baby growing inside me—it was for Nina, for every person who'd been told their blood made them unworthy, for the world I wanted to build instead of the one I'd been handed.

I was tired of proving I deserved to exist. I was tired of watching others prove it too, over and over, while those born to privilege simply inherited their worth unchallenged. And I was tired of being protected while others suffered the consequences of systems I'd never chosen but had always been complicit in through my silence.

"Miss Wylde?" Dr. Hawthorne's voice pulled me from my thoughts. He stood in the doorway of his office, his weathered face creased with concern. "Do you have a moment?"

I set aside the supply manifest I'd been pretending to review and followed him inside, my heart picking up speed. Cora was already there, perched on the edge of a chair with her gentle features set in unusual seriousness. They'd both noticed the increased guard presence around the station, the way Kieran had appeared overnight and taken up position like a sentinel, the carefully maintained fiction that Silas had been recalled to the Academy for "urgent Council business" rather than arrested for assault and conspiracy.

"I wanted to speak with you about Nina Grey," I said before Hawthorne could begin, the words coming easier than I'd expected. "About what happened yesterday."

Hawthorne's expression shifted to something harder, more dangerous than I'd seen from the usually mild-mannered physician. "Is this related to Silas?"

"Yes, he'd been threatening her." I kept my voice steady, choosing each word with surgical precision. "I don't have permission to explain everything—it's her story to tell if she chooses—but he'd hurt her before. Badly. And yesterday he tried again."

Cora's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with distress. "That poor girl. I knew something was wrong, the way she seemed so frightened these days, but I thought..." She shook her head, visibly collecting herself. "What do you need from us?"

The question caught me off-guard, the immediate offer of support so different from what I'd learned to expect from authority figures. "She needs people looking out for her," I said carefully. "People who'll help her feel safe here while she heals. Not just her body—her trust in the world. In people."

"Of course." Hawthorne's voice had gone quiet with conviction. He paused, then added with deliberate emphasis, "No one under my supervision will be harmed again. Not while I have breath to prevent it."

"I'd like to be her friend," Cora offered softly, "if she'll let me. Sometimes it helps, having someone to talk to who isn't in a position of authority. Just... companionship, without expectations."

The knot in my chest loosened slightly, warmth spreading through the perpetual cold that had taken up residence since I'd heard Nina's broken confession. "Thank you," I managed. "Both of you."

The rest of the day passed in the familiar rhythm of treatments and consultations, but I felt the change rippling through the station like wind across still water. Nina emerged from her quarters mid-morning, moving with the careful deliberation of someone testing whether the ground would hold, and when Cora approached with a gentle offer to help reorganize the herb stores, Nina actually nodded, her voice barely audible but present.

I caught her eye once across the treatment room and something passed between us—not quite trust, too fragile for that, but acknowledgment. A shared understanding that we were both trying, both learning to believe that maybe there were people who would choose kindness without demanding payment.

The afternoon sun was slanting through the windows when the communicator buzzed.

*Can you meet me at the cottage tonight? I need to speak with you about something.*

The careful phrasing sent ice down my spine. This wasn't my mate asking for a stolen evening together—this was the Alpha commander who'd uncovered something that required privacy and security wards.

*What's happened?*

*Don't worry. I'll tell you then, Eileen. I'll send the carriage at sunset.*

After he'd disconnected, I stood in the dimness among shelves of bandages and tinctures, one hand pressed against my abdomen where our child grew, feeling the flutter of anxiety through our bond that Regis couldn't quite suppress. Whatever he'd discovered was serious enough to pull him away from his investigation, serious enough to risk the exposure of our frequent meetings.

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By the time sunset painted the sky in shades of amber and rust, I'd worked myself into a state of barely controlled panic that I tried desperately to hide. The medical station's perimeter had transformed since morning—more guards, tighter patrols.

The carriage waited where Regis had promised, dark and anonymous. But it was Regis himself who stepped down as I approached, his face unreadable in the fading light, and the moment his hand closed around mine to help me up, I felt it—the tightly leashed fury vibrating through our bond, the iron control keeping Valdor from surfacing, the fear he refused to name wrapped around his heart like thorns.

"Tell me," I demanded once we were enclosed in the carriage's privacy, before he could deflect or shield me.

His jaw worked, and for a moment I thought he might refuse. Then his shoulders sagged slightly and he pulled me against his side, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head as though he could protect me through sheer proximity. "Let me get you somewhere secure first. I don't want this conversation anywhere someone might overhear."

The forest road passed in tense silence broken only by hoofbeats and creaking wheels. I felt Regis's heartbeat against my ear, too fast, his breathing carefully measured in a way that told me he was fighting for composure. Through our bond I caught flashes of his inner turmoil—protective rage warring with calculated strategy, the Alpha's instinct to solve threats with violence colliding with the need for proof and procedure.

The cottage appeared through the trees. Regis guided me inside with a hand at the small of my back, then immediately moved to secure the door.

I accepted a glass of water he pressed into my hands, watching as he built up the fire. Finally, he turned to face me, and the naked worry in his eyes made my breath catch.

"Tell me," I repeated, gentler this time.

He came to me then, sinking onto the couch and pulling me down beside him, keeping our bodies in contact as though the physical connection could anchor us both. "Silas wasn't working alone. We found evidence—supply theft, intelligence being passed to hostile packs, everything pointing to a coordinated effort to undermine border defenses."