Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 41

Eileen

The next afternoon found me standing at the kitchen entrance, my resolve wavering with each breath. I'd woken that morning to an empty house—Regis had left before dawn for the border patrol inspection, though he'd taken care to leave a note on my nightstand along with a steaming cup of tea that had somehow stayed warm. Rest if you need to. The meals are labeled in the cold storage. I'll be thinking of you. —R

The tea had settled my stomach, and the usual morning fatigue had felt manageable—no worse than the past few days. I'd convinced myself I could handle a short shift, that maintaining some independence wouldn't hurt. Regis had been so careful not to make me feel trapped or controlled, always emphasizing that choices were mine to make. Surely he'd understand that I needed to feel useful, needed to prove I wasn't completely helpless.

Just a few hours, I told myself firmly, pushing through the entrance. Then I can go home and rest before he gets back.

The bread room was mercifully quiet when I entered, the scent of yeast and flour less overwhelming than the savory cooking smells from the main kitchen. I'd just begun arranging the morning's leftover rolls when footsteps echoed behind me—sharp, deliberate, angry.

"What are you doing in my station?"

I spun around to find Sophia Reed standing in the doorway, her expression twisted with fury. She was supposed to be on leave for another three days. The shock of seeing her here, now, made my carefully constructed composure crack.

"I—Greta asked me to help while you were away," I managed, hating how my voice came out small and apologetic.

"Help?" Sophia's laugh was cold, brittle. "Don't you mean you shamelessly tried to steal my position while I was gone?" She advanced into the room, and I instinctively stepped back, my hip hitting the counter. "You useless piece of trash!"

The slur hit like a physical blow. I'd heard it before—whispered in hallways, muttered behind hands in classrooms—but never thrown at me with such venom in a space that had felt safe. My hands trembled as I gripped the counter edge.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically, the words rising from years of conditioning. "I didn't mean to—Greta just thought—"

"Greta thought what? That you could replace me?" Sophia's eyes raked over me with undisguised contempt. "You're not even supposed to be here. A wolfless nothing handling food that our Alphas will eat? Do you know how disgusting that is? What if your... your deficiency contaminates something?"

The words kept coming, each one sharper than the last, and I felt myself shrinking under their weight. This was familiar territory—being made to feel less than, being reminded that my existence was somehow offensive. My throat burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of her.

"That's enough."

Greta's voice cut through the tirade like a blade. I hadn't heard her approach, but suddenly she was there, her usually warm expression frozen into something hard and unforgiving. "Sophia, my office. Now."

"But I—"

"Now."

The single word carried such authority that even Sophia fell silent. She shot me one last venomous look before stalking past Greta, whose hand on my shoulder was the only thing keeping me upright.

"Are you alright?" Greta asked softly, once Sophia was out of earshot.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. My whole body was shaking, and there was a roaring in my ears that had nothing to do with Sophia's words and everything to do with the sudden realization that I couldn't keep doing this.

"Wait here," Greta said, squeezing my shoulder gently before following Sophia.

I sank onto a nearby stool, pressing my hands against my face. Through the thin walls, I could hear raised voices—Greta's measured and firm, Sophia's shrill with indignation. Then Greta's voice rose sharp and final: "You're dismissed. Collect your things and leave. I won't tolerate that kind of treatment in my kitchen."

The door slammed. Heavy footsteps approached, and then Sophia was there again, her face mottled with rage. She stopped in the doorway, fixing me with a look of pure hatred.

"You think you've won something?" she hissed. "You're still nothing. A wolfless waste playing at having a life. Everyone knows what you are—what you'll always be. Worthless."

Then she was gone, and I was alone with the wreckage of my composure.

Greta returned minutes later, her expression softening when she saw me still hunched on the stool. "Eileen, honey, I'm so sorry you had to hear that poison."

"It's fine," I said automatically. "I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be." She pulled up another stool, sitting across from me. "You're one of the hardest workers I've ever had. Your blood status has nothing to do with your worth, and anyone who says otherwise can answer to me."

The kindness in her voice nearly undid me. I managed a watery smile, but my hands were still trembling, and when I tried to stand, my legs felt unsteady. The rest of my shift passed in a blur—Greta kept me on simple tasks, checking on me frequently with worried eyes, but I could barely focus. Sophia's words had burrowed under my skin, finding all the old wounds I'd thought were healing.

By the time I finished, exhaustion had seeped into my bones. I made my way to the school gates on autopilot, my bag heavy on my shoulder. The spot where Regis usually waited was empty—he was still at the border, wouldn't be back until evening.

I pulled out my communicator, fingers clumsy: *Heading home now.*

The ride home seemed endless. By the time I reached our door, my vision was swimming at the edges, and there was a persistent ache low in my abdomen that hadn't been there this morning. I made it inside, dropped my bag by the entrance, and barely had the energy to climb the stairs.

I should eat something. Regis had left prepared meals in the cold storage, each one carefully labeled. But the thought of food made my stomach turn.

*Just for a little while,* I told myself, crawling under the covers without even removing my shoes. *Just until he gets home.*

The pillow smelled like the lavender sachets Regis had placed around the room. I pressed my face into it and finally let the tears come. Through the bond, I could feel him—distant but present, a steady warmth at the edge of my consciousness.

The room darkened as clouds passed over the sun. My body felt strange—too hot and too cold at once, with an odd heaviness that made it hard to draw full breaths. But I was so tired, and if I just closed my eyes for a moment...

Sleep claimed me before I could finish the thought.