Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 182

Chapter 182

Eileen

The cottage interior felt too small, too warm, as Regis guided Nina inside with careful movements that reminded me of handlers approaching a wounded animal. She moved like one too–jerky and uncertain, her breath coming in shallow gasps that I recognized all too well from my own worst moments. When Regis reached out to steady her as she stumbled, she flinched so violently that she nearly fell, and I saw something crack in his expression before he

immediately stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of non–threat.

“Nina‘ he said quietly, his voice stripped of the Alpha command that usually threaded through it, leaving only gentleness behind. “I need to check if you’re hurt. Just a quick examination to make sure nothing’s broken or bleeding. But I won’t touch you unless you say it’s alright.”

She didn’t respond, just stood there trembling with her arms wrapped around herself, her gaze fixed on some point past his shoulder as if she couldn’t bear to look at him directly. The lamplight caught the angry red marks on her throat–finger–shaped bruises already darkening to purple where Silas had gripped her, a necklace of violence that made bile rise in my throat. There were other marks too, I realized as I looked closer, faint smudges of discoloration on her wrists and along her collarbone, as if this hadn’t been the first time someone had grabbed her, had used their strength to pin her in place.

“Let me.” I said softly, moving to stand beside Regis. “Nina, it’s just me. Just Eileen. I only want to help, I promise.”

Her eyes finally focused, finding mine with a desperation that felt like a physical touch. For a long moment, she just stared at me, and I could see her trying to decide whether trust was even possible anymore, whether the risk of accepting help was worth the inevitable betrayal that her past had taught her would follow. Then, so slowly it almost hurt to watch, she gave the tiniest nod.

Regis exhaled in what might have been relief and stepped away completely, positioning himself by the door where he could keep watch without crowding her. I approached Nina with the same caution I’d use with the most skittish patients, keeping my movements deliberate and slow, telegraphing each motion before I made it. When I reached up to gently tilt her chin, examining the bruising on her throat, she held herself rigid but didn’t pull away, though I felt the tremor that ran through her at even that light contact.

The damage wasn’t as severe as I’d feared–painful and frightening, certainly, but the bruising was mostly superficial and her breathing was clear and unobstructed. The wrist marks were older, yellowing at the edges in a way that suggested they’d been inflicted days or even weeks ago, which meant this wasn’t a sudden attack but part of an ongoing pattern of intimidation. My hands clenched into fists at the thought, but I forced them to relax, forced my voice to stay steady and soothing as I murmured reassurances that she was safe now, that nothing was seriously damaged, that we would take care of her.

“There’s a small room upstairs, Regis said from his position by the door, his tone carefully neutral. “It’s quiet and the door locks from the inside. Nina, would it be alright if Eileen took you up there so you could rest? No one will disturb you unless you want them to.”

Another pause, another long moment of internal calculation that I could almost see playing out behind her eyes. Then she nodded again, just barely, and allowed me to take her elbow and guide her toward the narrow stairs that led to the cottage’s upper floor. Behind us, I heard Regis let out a breath he’d been holding, felt the tension in the bond ease just slightly as some of the immediate crisis passed.

The attic room was small and simply furnished–a narrow bed with clean linens, a single window that looked out over the darkening forest, a wooden chair and washstand that had seen better days. But it was private and defensible, and when I showed Nina how the door latch worked from the inside, I saw something in her posture relax incrementally. I helped her sit on the edge of the bed, found a spare blanket to drape around her shoulders, and promised Id be just downstairs if she needed anything at all. She didn’t respond, just pulled the blanket tighter and stared at the wall with those haunted, hollow eyes that had seen far too much.