Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 110

Chapter 110

“Let go-

“You will not speak.” She yanked open my door and shoved me inside so hard I nearly fell. “Stay here until I decide what to do with you.”

The door slammed. I heard the scrape of furniture–she was pushing something against it from the outside. Trapping me in.

I stood in the center of my cramped room, breathing hard, one hand pressed to my neck where the mark still burned from her scrutiny. Through the thin walls, I could hear her stomping back toward Gareth’s room, her voice shrill with false concern as she cooed over her precious son.

My legs gave out. I sank onto the edge of my narrow bed, staring at nothing.

I should message Regis. The thought cut through the numbness. Tell him what happened. Ask him to come get me.

But when I reached for my communicator on the desk, it wasn’t there.

My heart lurched. I stood quickly, scanning the surface–books, old medical notes, a chipped mug I used for tea. No communicator.

I checked the floor. The windowsill. Under the bed.

Nothing.

She must have taken it. While I was in Gareth’s room, or perhaps just now when she dragged me here–I’d been too disoriented to notice. But she had it. She had my only way to contact him.

The realization hit like a physical blow. I couldn’t call for help. Couldn’t send a message. Couldn’t even let him know I was trapped here.

I sat back down heavily, wrapping my arms around myself. The bond hummed faintly in my chest–still there, still connecting us–but I’d never learned how to send clear thoughts through it. I could feel his presence, sense his emotions when they were strong enough, but actual communication? That required skill

I didn’t have.

He’ll notice when I don’t respond, I told myself. He’ll worry. He’ll come looking.

But would he? We’d only been truly bonded for such a short time. Maybe he’d think I was just busy with family matters, that I’d message when I could. Maybe he’d respect what he thought was my need for space.

The moonlight streaming through my small window seemed to mock me with its beauty. Somewhere out there, the bond stretched between us like a silver thread. But what good was a thread when I couldn’t make it carry words?

I lay down on my side, facing the window, one hand resting over my abdomen where our child grew. I’m sorry, I thought, not sure if I was apologizing to Regis or to the baby or to myself. I’m so sorry.

Hours crawled by. I heard Mother return to her room, heard the low murmur of my parents‘ voices through the wall. They were discussing me, I was sure. Planning what to do about their disappointing daughter who’d managed to get herself marked by some nameless wolf.

Around midnight, the tears finally came. Silent, bitter, soaking into my thin pillow. I cried for the years I’d wasted trying to earn their love. For the childhood I’d spent making myself small and quiet and useful. For the daughter I’d never stopped being, even when I should have walked away long ago.

But I also cried because I was angry. Furious, in a way I’d never let myself be before. How dare they treat me like property? How dare they assume the worst

11:51 am

Chapter 110

of me, of the bond I shared with someone who actually valued me?

Regis had told me i was allowed to be angry. That I didn’t always have to be gentle and accommodating. And he was right.

I sat up, wiping my face roughly. The crying had helped, in a strange way. It had cleared something inside me, made room for resolve.

I couldn’t contact Regis. But I could take back some control.

Tomorrow morning, I would get my communicator back. I didn’t care if I had to search every inch of this house. And then I would leave. With or without

their blessing.

I’d spent twenty years being their obedient daughter. That girl was gone now.

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