Mated to Her Alpha Instructor (Eileen and Regis) novel Chapter 91

Low moans echoed from the treatment rooms. Somewhere nearby, bandages rustled. A healer’s tired footsteps shuffled past.

“You sure about this? Mira muttered, gripping her notebook like a shield.

I wasn’t. But I thought of Regis, of Kieran, of all the warriors who stood between us and whatever was out there. Of the child growing inside me, who deserved a world where infected wounds didn’t mean slow death.

‘I’m sure, I said, and pushed forward.

The first warrior we approached was a Beta with his arm in heavy bandaging, leaning against the wall with the casual defiance of someone who refused to lie down. His eyes tracked us with predatory awareness.

“They’re sending student girls now?” He laughed, sharp and bitter. Last specialist‘ they brought in nearly killed me with her experimental treatment. Fever for three days.

His companion, a larger male with obvious leg wounds, fixed me with a cold stare. “Can you even sense infection? Or do they just hand out healer badges to anyone these days?”

I felt Mira bristle beside me, but I kept my voice steady as I pulled out Regis’s authorization. “I’m here to observe and document. I won’t touch your wounds without permission.”

The arm–wound warrior snatched the paper, scanning it quickly. His expression shifted–not to warmth, exactly, but to grudging respect. “Alpha Regis Vane vouches for you.” He handed it back. “His word carries weight. But if you’re here for show, don’t waste our time.”

“I’m not.” I crouched down, meeting his eyes. “Can you describe the pain? Is it constant or does it come in waves?”

He blinked, surprise flickering across his scarred face. “Waves. Worse at night. Burns like acid when it flares.”

And the smell? I leaned closer without touching, breathing carefully. “Has it changed since the initial treatment?”

“How would I He stopped, nostrils flaring. Actually, yeah. It’s sharper now. Less rot, more… chemical?”

My stomach dropped. I knew that voice.

Mira’s hand found my arm as Derek and Celeste appeared in the doorway. Blake, apparently, had been given an isolated recovery room due to his father’s influence–standard procedure for higher–ranked families, regardless of injury severity.

Celeste’s eyes widened when she spotted me kneeling beside a warrior’s cot, notebook in hand. Her shock lasted exactly three seconds before her expression curdled into something ugly.

“Oh my goddess, she breathed, loud enough for half the ward to hear. “They let the wolfless girl play healer now? Blake, you’re so lucky you got the private room. Can you imagine if she was studying your wounds?”

The warrior beside me stiffened. I felt his trust wavering, doubt creeping back into his expression.

Derek had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Eileen? What are you doing here?”