Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Eileen

I left the dormitory then, my bag slung over my shoulder, and made my way toward the main gates where the pages weet. The

campus was quieter than usual, most students already gone or preparing to leave. The air smelled of pine and approaching autumn, tig

and clean.

Three hours later, I stepped off the public carriage at the edge of Wylde territory just after noon, my canvas bag heavy against my

shoulder. The familiar scent of pine and damp earth should have been comforting, but instead it made my stomers cytes with

something that felt uncomfortably close to dread.

The house looked the same as always–a modest timber structure with three small windows facing the road, the paint peeling sightly

around the doorframe. I could see smoke curling from the chimney, which meant someone was home, and as I pushed open the door. 1 found Gareth sprawled across the sofa, flipping through a magazine with the kind of casual indifference that only a sixteen–year–old

who’d never had to work for anything could manage.

He glanced up when I entered, his expression flickering with recognition before settling back into boredom. Oh. You’re back.” He turned a page without sitting up. “You’re late. Lunch was hours ago–didn’t save you anything.”

The words came out so casually, like it was perfectly normal for me to arrive hungry and find nothing waiting. My fingers tightened around my bag strap, but I kept my voice steady. “The carriage was delayed. You know I always get back around this time during breaks.

“You didn’t come home last month, did you? Would’ve been a waste anyway.” Gareth made a dismissive sound and went back to his

magazine. “There’s bread in the cupboard.”

I watched him, remembering the little brother who used to save half his dessert for me, who’d wait by the window to tell me everything that happened while I was gone. That boy had vanished the day they discovered I didn’t have a wolf. Just like our parents, be decided ! wasn’t worth his time anymore. The anger had faded long ago–now there was just this hollow acceptance. I’d learned that speaking up

only made the silence louder.

My appetite gone, I headed down the narrow hallway to my room–the smallest in the house, tucked where the roof sloped so low I had to duck, where the tiny window let in barely enough light to read by.

Inside, the air was stale and cold. I set my bag on the bed and looked around at the bare walls, the threadbare blanket, the rickety desk that had been mine since childhood. Everything was exactly as I’d left it, and yet it felt even more suffocating now, as if the roum had

shrunk in my absence.

I sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress, pressing my palms against my knees, and tried to tell myself that this was only for less than three days. I could endure it.

But even as I thought it, exhaustion rolled over me in a wave so sudden and overwhelming that I barely had time to kick off my shoes before I collapsed sideways onto the bed. My eyes closed almost immediately, and I sank into a deep, dreamless sleep that felt less like rest and more like my body simply giving up.

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