Accidental Surrogate for Alpha-Chapter 225 – Camp Visit
Posted on February 17, 2025 · 1 mins read
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James was within reach, and my wolf couldn't help but find the soldier strangely biteable—downright mouthwatering. A tender bit of flesh peeked over his belt, where muscle and fat combined to create his barrel-like physique. I could easily sink my fangs in without inflicting permanent harm, though it would undoubtedly hurt. Then again… if I did want lasting damage… other, more vulnerable areas weren't far away.

I'd never had such bloodthirsty thoughts, but I didn't question them—not after James suggested the attack on my mate was fortuitous. "Lucky?" I repeated sharply, prowling closer, trying to remember Isabel would hate me if I truly hurt him. "Lucky that he lost his Beta and closest advisors? Lucky that he almost lost his own life? Just where do you think this pack would be without him? Was it luck that got all those refugees off the continent?"

"No, it was me!" James argued, his face reddening. "I've been going there every day, witnessing their tragedies. The other pilots and I have been dealing with this madness alone, and now we have to watch out for armed attacks and spies? It's too much!"

"And who gave you the planes and money for those trips?" I countered, hands on my hips. "Who gave you the other pilots and a safe place to land? Who worked with Gabriel to give our people a second home here? Who arranged for the nursery where your daughter now lives? None of that was luck, James. That was all Dominic—all his sacrifices."

"As it should be," James hissed. "That's the duty he bears, the oath he takes as an Alpha. What you don't understand about being a soldier is that no wolf, no matter how important, is worth the lives of innocent civilians. If it comes down to it, the Alpha should die protecting his people, rather than let them be hurt."

"Well, he can't very well go back and hold up the entire front himself!" I burst, throwing my arms up in exasperation. I looked to Henry, Gabriel, and Roger for support, but they only watched in silence. "What would you have him do, James? Go home and set up his army between Damon and the refugees? So the spies have to go through him first?"

"Maybe he should," James suggested simply, looking past me at my mate.

The taut leash on my temper—and my wolf—snapped. I lunged at the pilot with a vicious growl. A powerful arm caught me before I could sink my claws into James's face, and a familiar voice purred in my ear. "Easy now, trouble. James is right."

I swung around, outraged. "How can you say that, he—"

"Compared to what they might have attempted, we were lucky they only attacked a few high-ranking wolves—wolves who were combatants, rather than civilians. I'd always rather be the target than one of my people. You know that, Ella," Sinclair replied gently. "And putting myself between Damon and the refugees isn't a new idea, baby."

"It isn't?" I asked, my voice small, turning to look at him.

"No," Sinclair confirmed grimly. "And we haven't done it because moving forward would take away our strategic advantage, access to weapons, and the time we need to plan a coup. But it wasn't an easy decision, Ella. I know our people will suffer for this strategy, and when this is over, they'll be within their rights to hold me accountable."

"It was the only choice," I affirmed, knowing he didn't need my approval, but that it always helped. "You can't protect us if you aren't here. No one would begrudge you that."

You still ought to let me bite him, my wolf sniped as I glared at James.

"No, baby, no biting," Sinclair warned, pulling me close and inhaling my scent.

"Come on, just a little one?" I whined. "He probably won't even feel it."

Sinclair looked as though he wanted to smile. "Then what would be the point?"

I thought for a moment, adrenaline still surging. Vengeance.

He chuckled deeply, kissing my neck. "I'm glad we're on the same page," Sinclair declared, and it took me a minute to realize he was answering my last verbal statement, not my thoughts. "Dwelling on the past won't help. We need to figure out how to prevent this from happening again."

"How? We can't exactly demand ID papers—most have lost everything but the clothes on their backs," James objected.

"We can send in troops, but that would be an invitation to Damon," Gabriel added. "Besides, I don't want the relief efforts militarized—it's a recipe for disaster."

"Well, we've got to do something," Roger stated soberly. "That video I showed you is nothing compared to actually being there."

"He's right—we can barely get the planes on the ground, let alone vet the people we're bringing in," James affirmed, sounding pained.

"What about the Vanaran technologies?" I asked. "They have drones, state-of-the-art weapons, and who knows what else. Isn't there some way we can do surveillance before our transports land?"

"The problem is that not every shifter is in our government databases; most IDs would be useless because most refugees aren't known to us," Sinclair explained with a heavy sigh.

"But it isn't the unknowns we're worried about," I reasoned. "The soldiers working for Damon are all civil servants, right? And if they aren't, they're rogues who've run afoul of the law. So, between service and arrest records, we should be able to identify the majority of Damon's forces with facial ID technology, right?" I paused, wanting to ensure my logic was sound. "It wouldn't catch everyone, but surely it's better than nothing."

"That's not a bad idea," Henry praised, nodding. "Could we do it without further frightening the refugees? I'd hate for them to see the drones and think they were being attacked."

"If we tell them beforehand…" James suggested hesitantly. "We'd have to be gentle, so they know we aren't suspicious of them, just people pretending to be them."

"That's a difficult line to walk," Gabriel exhaled, not discouraged, but daunted. "Our pilots would need training for that. How do you interrogate someone's identity without accusing them of being a spy?"

I snorted. The men looked at me with raised eyebrows, and I huffed softly. "By not assuming they are spies. You assume innocence and hope you're wrong, not assume guilt and force them to prove otherwise." I shook my head. "Treat them with dignity and respect. Only investigate if you have reason to be nervous, and otherwise trust that others will sniff out traitors."

"Ella has a point. As long as our enforcers remember who the true enemy is, we can get through this," Henry agreed. "We can keep our people safe without infringing on their rights. We just have to keep our heads on straight."

"Alright, but we still need to increase evacuations. We have confirmation that Damon knows about our operation now. We need to either get everyone out at once, or change strategies," Roger advised.

"I don't think we should do anything just yet," Sinclair sighed. "Damon will be expecting this, waiting for us to lash out in panic."

"Maybe," Gabriel pursed his lips. "Do we even know who's advising him anymore?"

"My sources say he's gathered the most spineless of the continent's elder councils—he gave them the choice to serve him or die, so most of our elders are gone, and only the worst remain," Sinclair explained gravely. "But they aren't all idiots." Silence met this announcement, and though I hadn't grown up among wolves, I could guess what a tremendous loss this was.

"And does Damon know you're still alive?" Henry asked hopefully. "How fast is information traveling between here and home?"

"As fast as ever. By now, I'm sure he's heard," Sinclair answered, giving me a squeeze.

"I wish there was a way for us to stay completely hidden until the time is right," Henry groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Well, there's one way," Roger stated stiffly. "We have to find Damon's spy and get rid of them. I made it my personal mission to find the man responsible for the bomb, but I want to do more. Put me in charge of counter-intelligence. I want to root them out."

"Roger, you're already my Beta," Sinclair smiled. "The jobs don't get any more important."

"This one does," Roger confirmed. "It's my brother's life, my new sister and nephew—it's everything."

Sinclair smiled. "Then the job is yours."