Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 150

Eileen

The pre-dawn air bit at my skin as I stumbled into the medical station's courtyard, Regis's hand steady at my elbow. Torches blazed in a rough circle, illuminating the grim faces of thirty warriors already assembled in formation.

My heart hammered against my ribs. *Nina. We're coming for you. Hold on.*

"Listen up." Regis's voice cut through the murmurs, cold and controlled in a way that made my wolf-less instincts scream danger. He held up Nina's note, the paper trembling slightly in the torch light. "Our healer, Nina Grey, has been taken by the fugitive Elder Cornelius. Her last known location—Wild Mint Creek in the western woods."

Kieran stepped forward, his expression dark. "It's a trap."

"Of course it's a trap." Regis's eyes flashed gold for a heartbeat. "But she's in his hands. We don't have the luxury of caution."

He began assigning positions with ruthless efficiency. Kieran would lead ten scouts as vanguard. Regis himself commanded the main force—fifteen warriors at center. Owen took the rear guard with five soldiers.

"And the medical team stays behind the main line," Regis said, his gaze finding mine. "Eileen, Mira, two assistants. You don't leave Owen's sight."

"I'm going." The words came out steadier than I felt. "Nina will need immediate treatment when we find her. I have to be there."

Through our bond, I felt his wolf's snarl of refusal. But Regis only stepped closer, his hand cupping my face with a gentleness that didn't match the violence brewing in his eyes.

"You stay in formation. You stay with Owen. If fighting breaks out, you find cover." His thumb brushed my cheekbone. "Promise me."

*I promise,* I sent through the bond, even as unease coiled in my gut.

He kissed my forehead once, hard, then turned and shifted.

---

The western woods swallowed us whole.

I'd never noticed how *alive* the forest usually was until now, when every natural sound had been snuffed out. No birdsong. No rustling of small creatures in the underbrush. Just our boots crunching on dead leaves and the occasional clink of weapons.

Beside me, Mira's breathing came too fast. "This feels wrong," she whispered.

It did. The air tasted bitter on my tongue—not quite sulfur, not quite rot. Something that made my sinuses burn and my daughter kick restlessly in my belly.

*Easy, little one,* I thought, rubbing the swell beneath my cloak. *We'll get Nina and go home. I promise.*

Ahead, Kieran's fist shot up. The column froze.

I watched him crouch, examining the ground with two scouts. When he straightened, his face was carved from stone.

"Blood trail," he called back. "Multiple wolf prints—at least three different sizes."

Regis prowled forward in wolf form, massive and silver-black in the dim light. He sniffed the ground, then shifted back, already pulling on the trousers someone handed him.

"Not just Cornelius." His voice was flat. "He's brought help."

My legs moved before I thought about it, carrying me past Owen's warning hand to where the blood darkened the moss.

The metallic scent hit me first. Then—underneath—the familiar astringent bite of Nina's hemostatic salve. The one she always carried.

*She tried to treat herself.* My throat closed. *She was conscious when they took her.*

"Eileen." Regis's hand on my shoulder, firm. "Back in formation."

I nodded numbly, letting him guide me back to Mira. But as we started moving again, slower now, my mind wouldn't stop circling.

Nina had been hurt. Bleeding. Dragged through the forest while she was still aware enough to reach for her medical supplies.

And I'd been *asleep.*

---

Half a mile from Wild Mint Creek, Regis called another halt.

This time, he sent two scouts to circle wide, approaching from the flanks. The rest of us formed a tighter cluster, warriors on the outside, medical team tucked in the center like the fragile core we were.

I checked my treatment bag for the dozenth time. Silver powder—check. Hemostatic herbs—check. Antidotes, sedatives, bandages—

*Eileen.* Regis's voice in my mind, warm and worried. *Whatever happens, you don't leave Owen.*

*I won't,* I sent back.

My hand found my belly again. Our daughter pressed against my palm, a tiny foot or fist. The bond between us hummed with her trust, her absolute certainty that Mama would keep her safe.

*I will,* I promised her silently. *We're going to save Nina, and then we're all going home together.*

But the words felt hollow.

Because something was *off.*

The wind had been at our backs when we entered the forest, carrying scents from ahead. Now it had shifted, blowing from behind us. If Cornelius was ahead with Nina, why couldn't I smell any trace of them?

And the blood trail—

I frowned, replaying the last few minutes in my mind. The trail had stopped abruptly at that massive oak tree. Kieran said Nina had probably been carried from that point.

But I'd seen claw marks on the trunk. Fresh ones. Pointing *southeast.*

We were heading *northwest* toward the creek.

"Move out," Regis ordered quietly.

I fell into step, but my pulse was racing now. *Should I tell him?*

I glanced at Regis's wolf form prowling ahead, every line of him coiled for violence. He was already stretched thin, managing thirty warriors and his own barely-controlled fury at what had been done to someone under his protection.

*Later,* I decided. *When we reach the camp. When I'm sure.*

---

Wild Mint Creek cut through a small clearing, the water running clear and cold over smooth stones. On the bank sat a crude tent—door hanging open, interior dark.

Empty.

But not abandoned. Not cleanly.

Silver manacles lay scattered in the dirt, still stained with blood. Shattered glass from medicine vials crunched under Kieran's boots as he swept through the camp. Torn fabric—once part of a shirt—fluttered from a low branch.

The signs of struggle were everywhere. But no bodies.

"Cleared out within the hour," Regis said, human again and fully dressed. His nostrils flared. "They knew we were coming."

"I count at least ten different wolves." Kieran's jaw worked. "Sir, this is more than Cornelius and a couple rogues. This is *organized.*"

Regis's eyes found mine across the clearing. Through the bond, I felt his rage—a living thing, barely caged.

And beneath it: fear.

Fear for me. For our daughter. For Nina.

I wanted to go to him, but Owen's hand on my arm kept me in place.

Instead, I moved toward the tent, my healer's instincts screaming that I was missing something. The interior reeked of blood and that same bitter magic-smell from earlier. But in the corner, half-hidden under a torn blanket—

I knelt and picked it up carefully.

A strip of cloth, soaked through with blood. But embroidered on one edge in fading thread: a symbol I didn't recognize. Circular, with strange geometric patterns radiating outward.

*A witch mark,* some instinct whispered. *Nina's mother.*

My head snapped up. Because suddenly the pieces were slamming together.

The blood trail that pointed *southeast.* The claw marks on the tree trunk. And now this—proof that Nina's mother had been here, had bled here, had—

"Ambush!" Kieran's roar split the morning.

Shadows exploded from the tree line.

A dozen wolves—lean, scarred, eyes burning red with whatever drugs pumped through their systems—launched themselves at our formation. Warriors shifted mid-stride, meeting the attack with snarls and snapping jaws.

Regis transformed in a blur of silver-black fur, massive paws tearing into the earth as he charged.

But the real threat came from behind the tent.

A man stepped out from the shadows, tall and broad in black leather armor. Purple light crawled along the curved blade in his hand like something alive.

Silas.

His smile was a slash of white in the chaos. "Regis Vane. I expected better."

Regis's wolf wheeled to face him, lips peeled back from fangs as long as my fingers.

Silas chuckled, low and cruel. "Cornelius sends his regards."

He raised his free hand, and the rogue wolves surged forward as one.

The battle exploded.