Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 225

Chapter 225

Nina

The medical station corridor was quiet at midday, most of the staff either tending to patients or taking their meal break. I’d volunteered to restock the supply closet–mindless work that kept my hands busy and my thoughts from spiraling too far into the mess of emotions I’d been sorting through since Northridge.

I was carrying a stack of clean linens when I saw it.

A new notice had been posted on the community board near the main entrance–crisp parchment with bold lettering and an illustration that made my feet stop moving of their own accord.

WANTED: ELDER CORNELIUS BLACKWELL

ESCAPED CUSTODY CONSIDERED DANGEROUS

Below the text was a detailed sketch. An older man with sharp features, iron–gray hair, and cold eyes that seemed to follow you even from paper. The artist had captured something in the set of his mouth–a particular kind of cruelty that pretended to be righteousness.

My heart began to pound.

The linens slipped from my suddenly nerveless fingers, tumbling to the floor in a soft cascade of white fabric.

I couldn’t look away from the image. My throat tightened. My palms went slick with sweat. The corridor seemed to tilt slightly, and I had to put one hand against the wall to steady myself.

I know that face.

No. No, I couldn’t know it. I’d never met Elder Cornelius. Ordinary students never dealt with the Elders. And I’d made sure to stay off the radar of anyone with authority, anyone who might notice the healer who never quite fit in.

But my body knew something my mind was frantically trying to deny.

The memories came in fragments–sharp and jagged, like broken glass cutting through the careful walls I’d built in my head.

A stone room. Cold. Always so cold.

Iron bars. My small hands gripping them, knuckles white.

Voices beyond–men’s voices, discussing things I was too young to understand. Words like “bloodline” and “extraction” and “control.”

A man in a dark robe, his back to me as he stood over a stone table. Mother was there, strapped down, her face twisted in pain. She was screaming–screaming my name—

“Did you think I’d go soft just because you secretly bore a child, you whore?” the man said, and his voice was like winter frost. You know I can’t let you destroy everything I’ve built.”

His hand moved, and I saw it clearly in that sliver of memory–a silver ring on his finger, etched with ancient runes that seemed to writhe in the dim torchlight.

Was that him?

The ring.

That was the detail that wouldn’t let go. I’d dreamed about that ring for years after we escaped–waking in the night with phantom images of those twisting runes burned into my vision.

But I couldn’t be certain. Memory was a strange, unreliable thing, especially memories formed in terror. My mind might be filling in gaps, assigning a familiar face to a nameless monster from my childhood.

And yet my wolf–Thea, who I’d spent decades suppressing–stirred uneasily in the back of my consciousness. She recognized something too. A scent–memory, perhaps, or some deeper instinct I couldn’t consciously access.

Danger. Old danger.

“Nina?”

I jerked, nearly losing my balance. Eileen stood a few feet away, her brow creased with concern. She must have come around the corner while I was lost in the past.

“Are you alright?” She stepped closer, one hand instinctively cradling her rounded belly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I forced my gaze away from the poster and bent to gather the fallen linens, buying myself a few seconds to school my expression. “I’m fine. Just… I gestured vaguely toward the notice without looking at it again. “They finally posted his likeness.”