Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate

Chapter 111

Chapter 111 – Orphan Gang

Ella

“Cora tell me what happened.” I demand, crossing my skinny arms over my chest. I’m eight years old, glaring down at my surrogate sister with a stern expression. It’s always been this way between us. She’s a year older, but I’ve always had the dominant personality.

“It was nothing.” She insists, averting her gaze from my own.

“You’re lying.” I counter stubbornly. “I can always tell, you know.”

“No, you think you always know.” Cora answers sullenly, though we both know I’m right. I can read my sister like a book.

“Would you just tell me?” I press, sighing with exasperation.

“Fine, it’s not even a big deal, it was just some of the big kids being jerks.” She explains gravely.

“Which ones?” I respond immediately. “Point them out.” It could be anyone, considering the fact that even children our own age tend to be bigger than us. It seems like the orphanage physician labels us undersized and undernourished every year, though nothing ever changes.

Reluctantly, Cora points toward a familiar gang of kids, ranging from age eleven to fourteen. The ringleader is a beefy thirteen year old who always wears a cruel leer, as if he’s ever on the lookout for someone to bully to tears – just for the fun of it. “You see, there’s nothing we can do about it – they run this place.”

chin up defiantly. “We don’t have to be

her shoulders slumped in defeat. “They called me a worthless

only thing that keeps us going is the hope that

old now, and you know how it is. Parents only

want parents just as badly as you do, but I’m not gonna leave you for anything.” I vow. I’d like to see any

this to me. I do have a way of taking the most skittish and rejected of our peers under my wing,

is an outcast.” I remind her. “Why else do you think the big kids are so mean. They’re mad that no one ever picked them and they take it out on us cuz they think we might

to let them off the hook?” She asks, arching

that we’re in this together.” I answer reasonably, trying

a pearly grin. “And if they

heels to march up to the bullies in question. Cora trails

you, didn’t anyone ever teach you to pick on someone your own size?” I call

spoke. The ringleader rises to his feet, then scoffs, “Even if they did,

be mean

scrawny little

nail. He screams and flails his arms.

I come back to the present, I realize how strange my behavior had been that day.

Sinclair asks, the corners of his

the orphanage, just by being scrappy enough to take on the big kids. When it was over I tended his wounds,

massaging my tense shoulders. His words sink into my mind slowly, but I gradually recognize the truth in them – not only the wolfish group I

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