Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 78

Eileen

Mother kept up a steady stream of complaints the entire walk to where she'd left the cart—how embarrassing it was to have to come fetch me, how inconvenient this was, how if I'd been a proper daughter I would have volunteered without being asked.

"You'll need to be careful with your appearance," she said as we climbed in. "You've gotten even plumper. It's not attractive, Eileen. Though I suppose it doesn't matter—no one wants a wolfless woman anyway."

I said nothing.

"And what's with this scarf? Trying to look fancy? You're not fooling anyone."

*What I am.* Not *who.* Never who.

"The way you've been carrying yourself lately, acting special..." She shook her head. "Pride comes before a fall. One day you'll realize all this attention was just people being polite."

I bit the inside of my cheek, using the pain to stay anchored. *Don't respond. Don't engage.*

"Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Like what?"

"An apology might be a start. For making such a fuss—"

"I didn't—" I cut myself off.

"You didn't what? Didn't stand there arguing when your brother is lying at home injured?" Her voice sharpened. "Because that's certainly what it looked like."

*He told you that you're allowed to be angry,* I reminded myself.

"Actually," I said slowly, "I think I had good reason to hesitate. You asked me to drop everything with no warning—"

"There it is." Mother's laugh was harsh. "That selfishness again. What about your responsibility to family? What about the people who raised you when you had nothing to offer them in return?"

"I was a child—"

"And you're barely an adult now if you think the world owes you something." She shook her head. "This is why you've never fit in properly. Always thinking you're special, that normal rules don't apply to you."

I pressed my lips together and said nothing more, watching the academy grow smaller behind us. And somewhere in that building, Regis was probably reading my message, probably feeling through our bond that something was wrong.

*I'm sorry,* I thought toward him. *I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to fight this.*

---

The house looked exactly the same—small, worn, paint peeling. Mother didn't look at me as we entered.

"He's upstairs. Check on him immediately. Your father and I will be leaving for work shortly."

"Leaving?" I stared at her. "But you said—"

"We need you to care for him. We can't both miss work." Her tone was flat, almost bored. "Since you've been learning all those fancy healing tricks at the academy, you can save us the cost of hiring a proper healer. If he gets worse, that's on you."

"But I've never treated injuries this serious on my own—"

"Then you'd better figure it out. Otherwise, what's the point of all that schooling?"

The casual cruelty stole my breath. They'd dragged me here and now they were just... leaving?

*Of course they are. Because this was never about Gareth getting the best care. It was about getting free labor.*

I climbed the stairs slowly. Gareth's room was at the end of the hall, door slightly ajar. I could hear him breathing—rough and labored.

I pushed the door open.

He lay sprawled across his bed, and my healer's instincts screamed. His face was swollen, mottled purple and black with bruising that extended down his neck. His left arm was wrapped in bloodied bandages that looked days old, and the way he held himself suggested broken ribs. Claw marks. Someone had shifted and gone for him.

"About time," he muttered without opening his eyes. "Thought maybe you were too important now to bother with family."

The tiny flicker of sympathy I'd felt died.

"Let me see your injuries."

"Gentle, would you?" He glared at me. "Not all of us are used to being poked by incompetent healers."

I started examining his arm, carefully unwrapping the bandages. The wounds underneath were deep—three parallel gouges through muscle. They'd been cleaned, but not well, and the edges were inflamed.

"This needs to be properly dressed. And those ribs need to be bound."

"Mother felt them. Said they were fine."

"Mother isn't a healer." I pressed gently along his side, feeling him flinch. "Two ribs are fractured, and one might be a complete displaced."

"Just do whatever you're going to do and stop talking. Your voice is giving me a headache."

It took an hour to clean and redress everything properly. He complained through the entire process—I was clumsy, stupid, too rough, not rough enough.

"At least try to pretend you know what you're doing," he snapped. "Weren't you supposed to be some kind of genius? That's what Mother said when she saw that fancy badge you were wearing."

"The badge was for research. Not combat wounds."

"Oh, right. Research." He sneered. "Playing with plants while real wolves do actual work."

I wondered if there had ever been a time when he didn't hate me. When he might have been a real brother instead of just another person who treated me like a burden.

"There," I said finally. "That's the best I can do. You need to rest, drink water, and call me if the pain gets worse."

"Call you? I'd rather take my chances."

"Fine. Then I'll check on you in a few hours whether you like it or not."

"Must be nice, having a profession that's basically just an excuse to be useless."

I stopped at the door. Every instinct screamed at me to say something cutting, to make him understand how much he'd hurt me. But what would be the point?

"Get some rest, Gareth."

"Whatever. Just don't expect me to thank you."

I pulled the door closed and leaned against the wall, hands shaking. The house was quiet—my parents had left. It would just be me and Gareth, him taking his anger out on the closest target.

Just like always.

I pulled out my crystal, staring at Regis's name. I wanted so badly to call him. But what would I say? That I'd been weak?

*Not weak,* I thought. *Trapped.*

There had to be a difference.

As I passed Gareth's door again, I heard him mutter something—something that sounded like "useless bitch"—and I felt something inside me crack.

Not break. Just... crack. Like ice beginning to thaw.

*This isn't right. None of this is right, and I shouldn't have to accept it just because they're family.*

But I didn't know yet what I was going to do about that realization.

I just hoped that understanding would be enough.