Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 151

Eileen

The clash of fangs and claws filled the clearing as I crouched behind Owen's protective stance, Mira's fingers digging into my arm. Regis's massive silver-black wolf tore into Silas, their snarls shaking the ground, while Kieran's warriors formed a defensive ring against the drugged rogues whose red eyes gleamed with unnatural fury.

"They're not breaking through," Mira whispered, her voice tight with fear. "But neither are we."

She was right. The battle had reached a brutal stalemate—our warriors skilled but outnumbered, the rogues mindless but relentless. And Silas kept dodging Regis's killing strikes with that infuriating, drug-enhanced speed, his laughter cutting through the chaos.

"Worried about your little wolf-less mate, Vane?" Silas jeered, dancing away from Regis's fangs. "Don't be. She'll be my plaything soon enough."

Through our bond, I felt Regis's rage spike—a white-hot fury that made my own pulse hammer. But beneath it lurked something worse: the gnawing certainty that this was all *wrong*.

A gust of wind blew from the southeast, carrying with it the faint, unmistakable scent of rosemary and myrrh.

My breath caught.

*Nina.*

But we were heading *northwest* toward the creek. The blood trail had stopped at that oak tree half a mile back, where Kieran said Nina had been carried. Except—

My mind raced back to those claw marks on the trunk. Fresh gouges pointing *southeast*. The trail hadn't stopped because she'd been lifted. It had stopped because whoever took her had *wanted* us to think that.

"Mira." I grabbed her wrist, pulling her attention from the battle. "Nina's not at the creek."

"What?"

"The scent—it's coming from the southeast. This whole camp is a decoy." My voice cracked. "We need to tell—"

A rogue wolf broke through the line, lunging straight for us with a feral snarl.

Owen shifted mid-leap, slamming into it with bone-crushing force. They tumbled past us in a blur of fur and blood, close enough that I felt the displaced air whip my hair.

Something whistled through the space Owen had just vacated.

Thunk.

A dagger buried itself in the tree trunk beside my head, vibrating from the impact. A scrap of parchment was wrapped around its hilt, tied with what looked like dried sinew.

Mira screamed. I lurched backward, my shoulder hitting the rough bark as I stared at the weapon—its blade crusted with old blood, runes carved into the steel that seemed to shimmer with purple light.

"What the hell—" Mira started.

My hands were already moving, fingers shaking as I tore the parchment free. The message was scrawled in brownish ink that made my stomach turn.

Come alone to the ravine one mile southeast. Follow the myrrh scent. Thirty minutes, or the witch and her mother die. Bring anyone, and I slit their throats before you arrive.

You know what I want, little wolfless girl. Don't make me take it from corpses.

The parchment crumpled in my fist.

Cornelius.

He'd been watching. Waiting for the exact moment when Regis was locked in combat, too fierce to sense anything through the bond. Waiting for me to be alone and desperate and stupid enough to—

"Eileen?" Mira's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "What is that?"

I shoved the note into her hands, my mind already moving three steps ahead. Thirty minutes. Southeast. Alone.

He wants me. He's always wanted me—the 'moon-blessed' wolf-less girl.

Nina and her mother were bait.

And if I told Regis right now, if I sent that spike of terror through our bond while he was fighting for his life, he'd lose focus. Silas would go for his throat. And even if Regis survived, he'd charge after me in a blind rage, straight into whatever trap Cornelius had waiting.

But if I did *nothing*—

My hand moved to my belly, where our baby pressed against my palm as if sensing my fear.

*I'm sorry, little one. I'm so sorry.*

"You can't seriously be considering this." Mira's face had gone white, her grip crushing the parchment. "Eileen, this is insane—"

"I know." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "But Nina doesn't have thirty minutes. And if I wait for the battle to end..." I met her eyes. "Cornelius will kill them both and disappear. You know he will."

"Then we tell Owen! We send scouts—"

"And tip Cornelius off the second they get close." I pulled out the small vial of silverleaf oil from my bag—pungent enough to track even through dense forest. "I'm not going in blind, Mira. I'm going to leave a trail."

I uncorked the vial, dabbing the oil on my sleeves, my collar, the hem of my cloak. The sharp, medicinal scent made my eyes water.

"Wait twenty minutes," I said quietly, pressing the vial into her palm. "Then follow the silverleaf scent. Bring Owen and as many warriors as you can spare from the battle."

"Twenty minutes?" Her voice cracked. "Eileen, he could kill you in *five*—"

"He won't." I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. "He needs me alive for whatever he's planning. But Nina and her mother are expendable." I gripped her shoulders. "Twenty minutes, Mira. Please."

She stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then her jaw set, that familiar stubborn fire igniting in her eyes.

"If you don't come back alive, I'll hunt you down in the afterlife."

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "Deal."

I glanced one last time toward the battle—toward Regis's silver-black form tearing through rogues with savage precision, his focus entirely on protecting his warriors. On protecting *me*, even from a distance.

*I'm not breaking my promise,* I thought, even though he couldn't hear me through the bond. *I'm coming back. I swear.*

Then I turned southeast and ran.

---

The forest swallowed me whole.

I moved as quietly as I could, one hand pressed to my belly, the other clutching a silver dagger—the only weapon I had. The myrrh scent grew stronger with each step, undercut by something fouler.

My boots crunched over dead leaves. Every shadow looked like a threat, every distant crack of a branch like footsteps closing in.

*Keep moving. Nina needs you. The baby needs you to survive this.*

The ravine appeared suddenly—a deep gouge in the earth hidden by overgrown ferns. At the bottom, barely visible through the mist, sat a crude camp: animal hides stretched over wooden frames, a circle of stones blackened by fire.

And in the center, glowing with sickly purple light, a ritual circle carved into the dirt.

Two figures lay motionless at its edge, bound in silver chains.

*Nina.* I recognized her dark hair, the slump of her shoulders. Beside her, a skeletal woman with the same sharp features—her mother, unconscious and covered in bruises.

No sign of Cornelius.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I crept down the slope, boots sliding on loose gravel. The silverleaf oil on my clothes felt like a beacon, screaming my location to anyone with a nose.

*Twenty minutes,* I reminded myself. *Mira's coming. Just hold on.*

I was three feet from Nina when the voice cut through the silence.

"I was wondering when you'd arrive."

I spun.

Cornelius stepped out from behind one of the hide shelters, his ceremonial robes pristine despite the dirt and blood everywhere else. In his hand, a curved dagger glinted with runes that seemed to *writhe* in the dim light.

"The camp at the creek was almost too obvious, wasn't it?" He smiled, cold and clinical. "But Vane's so predictable when it comes to you. Dangle bait, watch him charge in claws-first." His gaze dropped to my belly. "And you—so desperate to prove you're more than a wolf-less burden. So easy to separate."

My hand tightened on the silver dagger. "Let them go. This is between you and me."

"Oh, it always was." He moved closer, circling me like a predator savoring the kill. "The witch-blood is just a catalyst. Useful, but replaceable." His eyes gleamed. "You, however—moon-blessed, carrying the next Vane heir, your blood singing with dormant power—you're *irreplaceable*."

The ritual circle pulsed, purple light crawling up the chains binding Nina and her mother.

"What do you want?" I demanded, even though I already knew.

Cornelius raised his hand, and the runes flared brighter.

"Everything."

The ground beneath me *moved*—no, the *magic* moved, invisible threads snapping around my wrists and ankles like iron manacles. I gasped, stumbling, the dagger sliding uselessly from my fingers.

"The more you struggle," Cornelius said pleasantly, "the tighter it binds."

I froze, heart hammering, as the invisible chains dragged me toward the ritual circle.

*Mira. Regis. Anyone.*

But the bond was silent. The forest was silent.

And Cornelius's smile widened as he pressed the dagger's tip to my throat.

"Now then," he murmured. "Let's begin."