Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 47

Eileen

The administrative wing felt colder than the rest of the academy, its stone corridors echoing with my footsteps as I approached Elder Blackwell's office.

The assistant stopped before a heavy oak door, knocked twice, then pushed it open without waiting for a response. "Miss Wylde, sir."

"Send her in." The voice from inside was sharp, cold.

My legs moved on autopilot, carrying me across the threshold into a spacious office lined with bookshelves and mounted weapons. Behind a massive desk sat Elder Thomas Blackwell, his pale eyes fixed on me with an expression that made my skin crawl—the same ice-over-deep-water gaze his son had worn in the woods.

The door clicked shut behind me. I was alone with him.

"Miss Wylde." He didn't invite me to sit. Just steepled his fingers and studied me like something distasteful he'd found on his boot. "Do you know why you're here?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My throat had gone completely dry.

"My son Andrew," he continued, his voice dropping into something harder, "is currently being treated by our healers for severe chemical burns to his eyes and respiratory system. Burns *you* inflicted on him yesterday afternoon."

The accusation hit like a physical blow. "I—that's not—he attacked me first—"

"Attacked?" Elder Blackwell's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "According to Andrew, you approached *him* in the eastern woods. Used some kind of... seductive concoction to lure him away from the main paths. When he rejected your advances, you became violent."

My mouth fell open. The sheer audacity of the lie left me speechless.

"That's not true," I finally managed, my voice trembling. "He cornered me. He grabbed me. He said—he said terrible things about—" My hand moved instinctively to my stomach, then jerked away as if burned.

"About your condition?" The elder's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Yes, Andrew mentioned that. Said the scent of your... pregnancy drove you to desperate measures. That you tried to seduce him, and when he refused, you attacked him with that chemical weapon."

"No!" The word burst out of me, louder than I'd intended. "That's a complete lie! He's the one who—"

"Enough." Elder Blackwell's hand came down on the desk with a sharp crack that made me flinch. "I won't have you slandering my son with these wild accusations. A wolfless girl with questionable morals, trying to frame a respected student? Who do you think the academy will believe?"

The familiar weight settled over my shoulders—the crushing certainty that no one would ever take my word over someone with power, with status, with a wolf.

"I'm telling the truth," I whispered, but even I could hear how weak it sounded.

"The truth." Elder Blackwell stood, moving around the desk toward me. I took an automatic step back. "The truth is that you're a disruption. First Sophia loses her position because of your meddling, now my son is injured. You seem to leave chaos wherever you go, Miss Wylde."

He pulled a piece of parchment from his desk, laying it flat. "This is a settlement agreement. You will acknowledge that you *accidentally* injured Andrew in a moment of panic, apologize for your overreaction, and agree not to pursue any further action regarding yesterday's... encounter."

My eyes blurred as I stared at the document. The words swam together, but I could make out enough: *admits to unprovoked assault... agrees to disciplinary probation... waives all rights to...*

"And if I don't sign?"

"Then I will file formal charges with the academy council. Assault with a dangerous substance. Attempted seduction of a fellow student. Given your... condition and lack of proper mate bond, I'm sure the council will be very interested in your moral character." His smile was thin and cruel. "You'll be expelled, of course. And good luck finding another academy that will take a pregnant, wolfless troublemaker."

The room tilted slightly. I gripped the edge of the desk to steady myself.

*This is familiar*, some distant part of me thought. *Being cornered. Being blamed. Being told to just accept it and stay quiet.*

I remembered my mother's hand across my face when I'd tried to tell her about a boy who'd touched me inappropriately at a gathering. *Don't make up stories. Don't embarrass the family. It's your own fault for being where you shouldn't be.*

I remembered apologizing for "misunderstanding" when an older girl had made me uncomfortable. Promising not to "cause trouble."

I remembered every time I'd swallowed my voice, bent my head, made myself smaller.

My hand trembled as I reached for the pen.

---

Regis

The border patrol had been uneventful—scattered rogues driven off, relief patrol and healers already in place. I could finally get back to Eileen.

The thought of her alone made Valdor restless. We’d been apart less than a day, yet the distance gnawed at me. The bond couldn’t reach her from here; only her texts assured me she was safe. Still, there was something else—an undercurrent I couldn’t name.

"I don’t like this," Valdor growled. "We need to go now."

“Your watch now,” I told the relief patrol, already stripping off my leathers. Moments later, paws hit the earth, and we ran.

The bond hummed with her calm presence, but the tension grew sharper with every mile.

I shifted back at the campus edge, pulling on the clothes I’d stashed at the gate. My office was in the admin building—I needed to drop off the patrol gear and sign off on the mission before finding her.

But halfway up the steps, I froze. Closing my eyes, I reached for the bond. Where was she? She should have been in the healing wing for her morning class… but she wasn’t.

The connection pulled taut, an invisible thread drawing me straight toward the administrative wing.

My blood went cold.

I moved immediately, taking the stairs three at a time. Through the bond, I felt her emotions shift—from dread to something worse. A hollow, numb acceptance I recognized from the night I'd found her burning with fever, convinced she had to handle everything alone.

*No*, Valdor snarled. *Not again. Not ever again.*

I rounded the corner into the administrative corridor just in time to see which office the bond was pulling me toward.

Elder Thomas Blackwell's office.

Through the tall window beside the door, I caught a glimpse of Eileen's small form, her shoulders hunched, her hand trembling as she held a pen over some kind of document. Across from her stood Blackwell, his expression cold and satisfied.

Every instinct I had screamed *threat*.

I didn't knock. Just pushed the door open hard enough to make it bang against the wall.

Eileen's head jerked up, her eyes finding mine. They were red-rimmed, her face pale. The pen in her hand clattered to the desk.

"Regis," she breathed, and the relief and fear and desperate hope in that single word made something crack in my chest.

Blackwell's expression shifted from satisfaction to annoyance. "Mr. Vane. This is a private disciplinary matter."

I ignored him completely, my attention fixed on Eileen. "What's going on?"

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her eyes were wide, almost panicked, darting between me and Blackwell as if she wasn't sure whether my presence made things better or worse.