Surrogate For Alpha Dom

Chapter 352

Accidental Surrogate Chapter 352-Ella

I’m the last one to the conference room – baby stuff but when I come through the door I’m very surprised to see that it’s just family gathering today.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, holding Rafe close to my chest so that he peers over my shoulder. He’s a very curious baby – he likes to look around, even though he can’t see much yet. I move over to the table where Cora, Roger, Henry, and Sinclair sit, all clearly waiting for me, all with faces which are …drawn. Concerned. And turned on me.

“What,” I breathe, freezing before I can sit down. “What’s wrong? What is it?” “Sit, Ella,” Henry says, waving to the open chair between him and Sinclair.

“No,” I say, shaking my head, the word falling out of my mouth before I can even think. “No way this looks… this looks like bad news.’

And some part of me knows that I’m being ridiculous – that it won’t be good news miraculously if I don’t hear it but still. Fear stripes through me – I really, really can’t handle more bad news now, not after the few days we’ve had. And not if it, apparently, all focuses on me.

“Ella, please,” Sinclair says, looking at me with gentle eyes and pulling the empty chair out. “I promise it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Do you all know?” I ask, going rigid.

“Henry told us before you came in,” Cora replies, leaning forward towards me across the table, Roger’s hand on her back. “He just wanted us to be prepared, so that the focus could be on you when we told you.’

“Oh my god,” I whisper, slowly moving to the chair and sitting down.” Is it me?” I ask. “Did I did I do something?”

in the wrong way. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just

ask, looking around again for the members of the team who went on the mission yesterday. Some of them, I know, would be well enough to attend now, if

is…” Henry continues, hesitating, “a family matter, Ella. Those who don’t know will be briefed soon. But I wanted to talk about this together, with the main parties involved.” Henry’s

say, drawing my lips together in a thin

now, nodding to him, apparently giving him permission to talk in some kind of pre- arranged pattern.

some kind of intervention or something? What did I do? Feeling my tension, the baby starts to fuss, and Sinclair takes him from me tucking Rafe into the crook of one elbow before draping his other arm warmly over my shoulders. I feel at once calmer, and start to

my entire focus to him. “Yesterday, when

my teeth and

whatever magical powder allowed him to really fire bomb us, by accident, and when he realized that he was

I ask, confused. “Like

clear. “I mean, slipped on his words. Messed up. Because he said: ‘the master will have

crook of Sinclair’s arm. He’s gotten a hand free of his swaddle and is clenching it and opening it, apparently fascinated by the movement of his fingers. “Do you are we assuming that the boy

confirms, drawing

say – and as I talk, I know I should just shut up and listen, but I can’t help myself. “Did he mean – did the priest mean the God of

gets complicated,” Henry says carefully, speaking slowly and calmly and watching my face to make sure I’m following along. I’m grateful for it because

team working all night trying to parse this phrase, trying to figure it out. And we’ve done a great deal of research, so far, on this Monastic Cult of the God of Darkness. And never, in any of our materials both from centuries ago and today – have we ever seen any of the priests or acolytes ever refer to the God himself as ‘master.” Instead, he is always

I don’t get it. Not yet. Not in the same way that the rest of them do, apparently, judging by the

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