Chapter 345 – Parting

Ella

I blink, surprised, when I hear a laugh tumble from Roger’s mouth. Honestly, I had expected anything else. Yelling? Yes. Begging? Sure. Stern orders? Absolutely.

Anything, really, except the low chuckle that falls from Roger’s lips as he leans back and puts his hands in his pockets. “I’m serious,” Cora says, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “I’m going with you. You need me.”

“Cora,” Roger says, shaking his head. “I need you, absolutely. But if you think for a second that I’m letting my pregnant mate climb into a sewer with me as part of an attack on an unknown enemy.

“Well if you wouldn’t let me do it, why on earth would I let you do it!” she counters, angry.

“Because I’m not pregnant!” Roger shouts back, angry, as if it’s obvious. Sinclair shifts a little, moving behind me – his arms still around my shoulders – so we can both watch.

“We’re pregnant,” Cora shouts, pointing between herself and him. “ This is not a me or a you kind of thing! I am not interested in single motherhood on what is essentially day two of this pregnancy!”

“Cora,” Roger sighs, putting an exhausted hand on his forehead. “This is my job. This is what we do. You can’t ask me to back away from it.”

“Why not, when you’re doing the same to me?” Cora counters, shaking her head at him, being stubborn. I bite my lip, torn between wanting to support my sister and frankly agreeing with Roger. There’s absolutely no way in hell that Cora should be going on this mission.

“What are you talking about?” Roger asks, frustrated. “I can help,” she says, pointing at herself, “I’m a doctor. You guys are going to get all torn up out there – you need me!”

as I lean back against

them to figure this out on their own if they can. But even if it did come

dismissive hand. ” It will be enough to hold us

die!” Cora counters, you could die! And how the hell would I feel, for the rest of my life – what would I tell our child – when I remembered

see him falter, no knowing how to reply. And frankly I’m torn by the idea as well if Sinclair died, and I

know if I’d survive it myself. Now? Sinclair asks me, his own inner voice dark and sad. Let me, I reply, and I step forward, putting a

a second, my sister drags her eyes away from her mate to look at

ways. How the hell would Roger feel if you got killed

idea and has to turn away from us, tortured by it, raising a hand to cover his face for a moment as he collects himself. Cora turns to look at him, surprised, I think, by the rare display of intense emotion. These Sinclair brothers – they’re so steady on the surface, but we always have to remember that still waters run

Roger’s shoulders, turning him back towards her and wrapping her arms around his waist. She lays her head on his chest when he puts his own arms around her. “I don’t like

sorry.

at him. “Is this what I’ve gotten myself into? Battle after battle, fight after fight?

question, looking up at Sinclair and meeting his eyes as he shakes his head steadily at me. No, he says, firm in my mind. We will have peace. I will bring

replies, tightening his arms around her. “I promise it will

me, then, and I nod, letting him shepherd me out of the room and giving the two of them a moment alone. My mate takes my hand as we pass through the door and head down the hall, both of us silent,

now?” Sinclair asks me as

thoughts at his words. “Now that he’s born,” Sinclair says, nodding to the baby as I carry him over to his little makeshift crib. “This isn’t the first time you’ve sent me off to battle. Does it feel different, now that he’s a little person instead of

always a little person,” I murmur with a little smile as I lay Rafe down, “since very early on, he was my little guy. But no,” I reply, straightening and looking up at

memory. He shushes me a little, pressing a finger to my mouth, and I nod, understanding. It’s not that he doesn’t want me to engage

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