Accidental Surrogate, Chapter 380: Battered Ella

The four of us spent the next few hours talking, eventually ordering a large amount of takeout and making complicated plans while Sinclair consumed a prodigious quantity of Chinese food. His appetite pleased me, but I eventually noticed he was tiring.

"All right," I said quietly, glancing significantly at Cora and Roger. "I think we have enough to go on for now. We can pick up again tomorrow."

Sinclair frowned, yawning subtly. "What? We have so much to do—"

"Enough," I interrupted, placing my hand over his. "You're still exhausted, Dominic."

He opened his mouth to argue, but I shook my head. "Tomorrow," I commanded. He narrowed his eyes, but I held my ground. "I understand your nature, Dominic. You want to fix everything immediately. But please, for me, can we start tomorrow?"

He hesitated, then, seeing my worry, slowly nodded. "This is the last day you get to boss me around, trouble," he grumbled. "Tomorrow, I'm in charge again."

"I'll take it," I said, kissing his cheek. Rafe nestled happily in my arms.

Roger yawned and stretched, pulling Cora close. "Ready for bed, little mate?"

"Sure, little mate," Cora replied, grinning mischievously.

Roger started, frowning. "That doesn't work, Cora—you're the little one—"

"But it's sweet!" she said innocently, making me grin. "I'm little mate, you're little mate—"

"I'm not little," he grumbled.

"Awww," she said, patting his cheek. "Sure you're not, baby." She turned to leave, Roger grumbling after her, and I chuckled at their dynamic.

"They really do work," Sinclair said once they'd closed the door. "She knows just how to push his buttons. And Roger needs a good teasing to keep him in line."

"And you?" I asked, sitting on the bed. "Do you need to be kept in line?"

"No," he said, his voice deepening to the dominant register I adored. "I am always in charge, Ella. And you wouldn't want me any other way."

"Damn right," I murmured, kissing him deeply, letting him feel my affection through the bond. His chest vibrated as he pulled me closer, his hand drifting suggestively down my back. I sighed and pulled away. "Baby's still up," I said, nodding toward Rafe. "And you need your rest. I'm going to take him for a walk around the clinic, okay? While you try to get some sleep."

He started to stand, but I stopped him. "Please, Dominic," I pleaded, my sincerity evident. "I promise, tomorrow you can go full steam. Just…please get one more good night's sleep, okay? For me? So I can…know you're all right?"

He sighed, leaning back against the pillows, the tiredness etched on his face. "All right, Ella," he said.

I kissed his cheek, moving the TV remote closer.

"You'll come back soon?" he asked softly.

"As soon as the baby's asleep," I promised, though I crossed my fingers. I intended to stay out until he fell into a restful sleep, regardless of Rafe.

I kissed him again, squeezed his hand, and slipped out the door. Hank was leaning against the wall, just as I expected.

"Ready to get to work?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You betcha," I said, squaring my shoulders. He handed me a baby carrier, and I let him hold Rafe while I strapped it on. "Okay," I said, nodding. "Let's get started."

Hank and I worked side-by-side long into the night, tending to the men injured in the bunker or at Xander's house. For three days, I'd been torn between my responsibilities. Every fiber of my being wanted to be with Sinclair, supporting him as he healed, but I also had duties as Luna and bearer of the Goddess's gift—to heal the men who'd sacrificed so much.

The first night was the worst. Shortly after we got Sinclair to the clinic, it was flooded with men from the bunker, some with horrific wounds needing immediate care. I had to prioritize my mate and sister, ensuring their survival while hearing the men's screams from the other room.

Tears streamed down my face as Hank guided me, ensuring Sinclair and Cora survived before I rushed to help the others. We couldn't save everyone. I couldn't reach them fast enough. It was agonizing to hear their cries fade as I worked on others. Hank forced me to stop in the early hours of the morning, when I could barely keep my eyes open. He'd snapped, "Enough, Ella. They'll survive—everyone alive tonight will be alive tomorrow. You need to sleep."

So I did. I cared for my child, slept, and called to my mate in my dreams, then woke and started again. We'd made good progress in three days, though much remained to do. Every moment away from them was torture.

I followed Hank from bed to bed, where he assessed the wounds. The injuries were becoming less severe. Initially, it was terrible wounds, but now I mostly reknitted muscles, regrew skin, and set fractures. I was glad the gore was decreasing.

"Ready?" Hank asked, moving to the next patient.

"Yup," I said, running a hand over Rafe's head to calm myself. "Let's go."

"Thank you, Luna," a man said after I treated him. I smiled over my shoulder.

"Any time, soldier," I replied. "It's the Luna's job to take care of her pack."