Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Chapter 134 – Ella Finds a Passage

Ella

I wipe the tears from my face and scan the room, Sinclair’s voice ringing in my mind. I’m still upset with him for making me share my location, but I’m determined to escape before he can endanger himself coming after me. If there’s a way out of this room, I’m going to find it.

Let me help! My wolf requests eagerly, as exhilarated with adrenaline as I am.

You are helping. I roll my eyes. Whose instincts do you think I’m using here? Certainly not my useless human ones.

And it’s true, The stronger my wolf has become, the stronger all of my senses have become. My ears are cocked for the sounds of anyone approaching the room, my eyes are hawkishly raking over every nook and cranny in the bedroom, searching for the tiniest details on the walls and floors. My nose is scenting the air, trying to determine if there are strange draughts of air beyond the interiors of the small space.

More than anything, I’m tapping into the strange and mysterious gut feelings which have recently been becoming more and more pronounced, hoping this sixth sense will help point me in the right direction. These are all things I wouldn’t have been able to do before – at least not in the same level of sharpness. I pat my belly. “Mommy has a silly wolf, Rafe.”

The canine in question snorts in my head, Not as silly as his fathers.

You may have a point there. I remark fondly, thinking about Sinclair’s possessive, overprotective inner animal who has a conniption if his scent fades from my skin or tries to bribe me with stolen children so I’ll let him avenge my honor. A deep pangrises in my chest the more I linger on my mate, love and long overwhelming me all at once.

is fresh in my memories, and the pain I feel for the pain I love suffering thus is almost too much to bear. I’ll never forgive myself if he’s hurt worse than he already is because of me. You’re right.

bookcases and tilting and tugging each and every book. I scour the space with a fine-toothed comb, feeling along

along the underside of the square opening, praying that I find some sort of button or

begin fiddling with the tools situated next to the fireplace, lifting the brush, spade and

as if it is glued to the floor. My heart begins to race, and instead of lifting, I try to pull it from side to side. With a forceful tug, it finally deploys, shifting towards the floor

might walk in while the passage is open, but also afraid of making more noise than I already have by closing it. I dash to the desk and frantically try to figure out what to write. The cipher Sinclair suggested isn’t the problem –

settle on

His Royal Highness and Her Unholy Pain in the Ass,

helpless damsel, it’s not in my nature to surrender. Please consider doing more research in advance of your next scheme, or I’m afraid you might be doomed to fail again. Losing may be what you’re accustomed to, but if you just apply yourself and put in the work, you’d be amazed at what you can achieve. And while I offer this humble advice for your diabolical schemes out of the goodness of my heart (I do worry that if you continue to be such an utter and complete failure, it might further degrade your mental health and you’re already plenty psychotic), I must warn you against targeting me again. Continuing to move against Sinclair is not only dangerous, it is phenomenally stupid. Eventually he will lose his patience with humoring your pathetic schemes and fight back – and you will die

Sincerely,

Ella Sinclair

P.S. Go fuck yourself.

I grab the tin, leaving the rest

out dim shadows. Still, it’s certainly better than nothing. Thanking the goddess for the first step of my escape, I pray that this passage leads me straight out of the palace and that I don’t have to navigate a complicated maze of tunnels that might let me out in another room or worse… get me lost.