Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 82

Regis

The moment I stepped through that doorway and saw Eileen's tear-stained face, something inside me went utterly still and utterly cold. Not the explosive rage that had nearly consumed me in the academy hallway—this was different. Colder, more calculated, more dangerous.

Behind her, two figures stood frozen in the kitchen—a man and a woman, both staring at me with expressions that shifted rapidly from shock to calculation. Through our bond, I felt every tremor of Eileen's suppressed emotion, every hitched breath she was trying to control.

"Regis," she breathed, and the way she said my name—like a prayer, like an anchor—made my chest constrict.

"May I come in?" I kept my voice even, though Valdor was prowling just beneath my skin, demanding I claim my mate and remove her from this hostile territory.

Eileen stepped back, nodding wordlessly. As I crossed the threshold, I let just enough of my Alpha presence leak into the room—not aggressive, but sufficient to establish exactly what I was. The effect was immediate. The man went rigid, his wolf instinctively recognizing a dominant predator. The woman's sharp inhale was audible.

"You..." The woman found her voice first, though it came out thin and uncertain. "You can't just—who do you think—"

"I told you he would come," Eileen said, moving to stand beside me. Not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel her warmth through our bond.

The man—Brennan—seemed to be struggling to process my presence. His eyes darted from my face to the crested sigil ring on my right hand, calculations running behind his gaze with almost comical transparency.

"Alpha... Vane?" he managed.

"Regis Vane," I confirmed, letting my gaze sweep over both of them with deliberate coldness. "Eileen's mate. The one who marked her." I paused. "The one you've been interrogating her about, I understand."

"We didn't know—if you'd just told us—" Lydia started.

"I owe you no explanations," Eileen said, and I felt fierce pride surge through our bond. Her voice carried more strength than I'd heard in days. "I tried to tell you it wasn't your concern."

I rested my hand lightly on her back—support and claim both. Through the bond, I felt her lean into the touch, drawing strength.

*I've got you,* I sent through our connection. *Whatever happens, you're safe.*

"However," I continued, my voice taking on formal authority, "given that Eileen is legally my bonded mate and carries my child, there are certain arrangements that need to be discussed."

The silence was deafening. I watched both parents process this, saw shock transform into something uglier—opportunistic calculation.

"Child?" Brennan's voice went rough. "She's carrying—"

"Our child, yes. Which is why I'm here to bring her home. Where she belongs."

"Now wait." Lydia stepped forward, sharp calculation replacing her shock. "You can't just walk in here and take our daughter. We have rights—"

"Do you?" The question came out soft but steel-edged. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems you've spent the morning attempting to isolate and interrogate a frightened young woman under my protection." I let my gaze sharpen. "Tell me, Mrs. Wylde—were you planning to return her communicator? The one I can smell in your apron pocket?"

Her hand flew to her pocket instinctively, confirming what I'd deduced from the faint trace of chamomile and sweet apple clinging to the fabric.

"We were trying to get answers—" Brennan started.

"By locking her in her room? By confiscating her only means of contact?" I didn't bother hiding my contempt. "By making her feel like a prisoner?"

Through the bond, I felt Eileen's surprise—she hadn't realized I could deduce all of that. But years of reading battlefields had given me skills beyond combat.

"Did you eat breakfast?" I asked Eileen softly, and watched her shake her head. Of course not. Through the bond, I could feel the hollow ache in her stomach. "Then we should go. I have food waiting at home."

The casualness of it—treating her leaving as foregone—seemed to break through Lydia's shock. "You can't just—she lives here, she's part of this family—"

"Is she?" I turned back, not hiding my contempt now. "Because it seems you've made it abundantly clear she's not truly part of this family. Not the parts that matter to you."

Brennan's face darkened. "How dare you come into my home—"

"The home where you gave your daughter the smallest room? Where even now, your first instinct was to interrogate rather than celebrate?" The accuracy of my observations—gleaned from everything Eileen had told me—hit home. Both parents recoiled.

But I saw calculation creep back into Brennan's expression. His gaze swept over me again—taking in my clothes, the carriage outside, the markers of wealth and status.

"We didn't know about your position," he said carefully. "If Eileen had told us who marked her, we could have—"

"Could have what?" I cut him off, voice dropping dangerously. "Treated her better? Or simply seen an opportunity?"

His eyes shifted, telling me everything.

"You're right that we need to discuss arrangements," Brennan continued. "After all, Eileen has been part of this household for twenty years. We've fed her, clothed her—"

"At what cost?" I asked quietly. "What price did she pay? Her self-worth? Her sense of safety?"

Through the bond, I felt Eileen's sharp intake of breath. Her hand found mine, squeezing tight.

"I think we both know exactly what happened here," I said, addressing them with cold precision. "And I think we both know that Eileen owes you nothing."

It was Lydia who broke first, calculation reasserting itself. "Be that as it may, there are practicalities. Gareth needs care, medical expenses—and Eileen was helping with household income—"

There it was. The real concern beneath all the bluster. Money.

Valdor surged against my control, disgusted. My mate's own parents, trying to negotiate compensation for "losing" her like she was a servant whose contract was being terminated.

I felt Eileen go rigid beside me, felt the wave of hurt and betrayal crash through our bond. This was what finally shattered whatever hope remained that they might choose to love her.

"I see," I said, voice dropping to arctic temperatures. "You want compensation for losing Eileen's contributions."

"It's only fair," Brennan said quickly. "We're barely scraping by. Losing her income—it will be a hardship."

The audacity would have been impressive if it weren't so utterly repugnant.

But as I looked at them, at their eager, greedy expressions, I realized something. This was perfect. They'd just given me exactly what I needed—a way to sever Eileen from them permanently, legally, without room for future manipulation.

"You're right," I said, and felt both Eileen's confusion and her parents' surprised gratification. "Arrangements should be made. Compensation offered."

I reached into my coat and withdrew a leather pouch I'd brought for this purpose. The weight of it as I set it on their shabby table made both parents' eyes widen.

"Five hundred gold marks," I said calmly. "More than enough to cover Gareth's medical expenses and educational needs for the next five years."

The silence was absolute. I saw Brennan's hand twitch toward the pouch, saw Lydia's breath catch.