Accidental Surrogate, Chapter 381: Persistence

Sinclair

I woke up frowning, immediately sensing something was amiss. Reaching for Ella, my hand encountered only cold sheets. My frown deepened as I sat up and realized she wasn't there. A glance at Rafe's bassinet confirmed he was missing too.

Where the hell was my family?

Sighing, I swung my legs out of bed, wondering how much time had passed. As I rubbed my face, I judged it couldn't have been long—no daylight peeked through the blinds. A few hours, at most. But why hadn't she come to bed?

I stood and headed for the door, wondering what trouble she was brewing now. I smirked; it was part of her appeal, wasn't it? She was always up to something. I'd certainly never be bored by her side.

The hallway was empty, but I followed the murmur of voices. Entering the room, I was surprised to see my father, sitting quietly in his chair by the door, staring into the room.

We exchanged no words as I leaned against the doorway beside him. We both knew I hadn't come seeking him. I nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder, then turned to Ella across the room. My infant son slept pressed against her chest as she held her hands over one of my wounded men, healing him.

"She's going to wear herself out," my father said quietly.

"How long has she been at it?" I asked.

"Hours," he replied, shaking his head. "She's been burning the candle at both ends for days, Dominic. She's very dedicated; she wants to do good. But she gives too much."

I nodded, understanding completely. My kind mate, with her big heart, couldn't stop giving, even if it meant giving all of herself. But that was where I came in. It was my job to take care of her before she burned herself out trying to care for the whole world.

I stood for a long moment with my father, watching her work, knowing it would be unproductive to interrupt. I was content to wait in silence, but my father surprised me.

"I'm so sorry, Dominic," he said, his voice thick with grief.

Shocked, I looked down at him. "What?"

He shook his head slowly, his regret evident. "I almost cost you—cost us—everything. I played right into the enemy's hands and risked your mate, your child—" He covered his face, unable to meet my gaze. "I failed you, Dominic."

"Stop that," I snapped, tightening my grip on his shoulder.

"It was so stupid, sending you away and leaving Cora and Ella unprotected. I should have seen it coming—that they would follow us back to the bunker after the first attack in the sewer; that they were biding their time. Xander has nothing but time—"

"Enough," I growled, anger rising. "This wasn't your fault, Dad."

"It was my plan—"

"It was our plan!" My voice was louder, harsher than intended. But my father only looked up at me, more helpless than I'd ever seen him.

"We all agreed to it," I continued, calming my voice. "Me, Roger, Ella, Cora—all our men, the whole team. We all fell for it; we were all…" I sighed, reliving the shame that flooded me when I realized Xander was trying to trap us in that house, targeting the women and the baby. "We all messed up, almost costing ourselves everything. You are not alone."

My father opened his mouth to protest, but his voice failed him. He hung his head, breaking my heart.

"What's all this?" Ella asked, and I looked up to see her standing before us, her eyes wide with worry as she absently stroked Rafe's hair.

I hesitated, trying to decide what to say, then shook my head. "It's nothing, Ella," I responded, unwilling to add to her burden. The darkness under her eyes showed she was exhausted too. "Just…the fallout."

She nodded, accepting my incomplete explanation, and focused on my father. "Haven't we been through this already?" she asked quietly. "No one blames you." I nodded in agreement, looking to my father for a response. He waved his hands dismissively.

"Let an old man have his guilt," he sighed, forcing a tired smile. "It gives us something to dwell on to fill these long days. But you two—" He looked at Rafe, dozing against Ella's chest. "You have better things to worry about. You should get that child to bed."

"Yes," Ella agreed, a little guilty, starting to unstrap the baby carrier. "Will you take him, Dominic? I wouldn't have kept him out here so long—I just didn't want to risk waking you if he got up during the night—"

"Ella," I interrupted sternly, and she looked up in surprise. "You're going to bed with the baby. Come on." I stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head and stepping back. "I have too much to do. There are more wounded men who need—"

"Ella," I repeated, closing the distance and placing a hand on her elbow. "You've done enough." I lowered my voice, so only she could hear. "You need to rest, trouble. They want you to rest too."

Ella glanced over her shoulder at the room full of partially healed men. Most were asleep, but those awake looked at her with grateful eyes—no need, anger, or desperation. They were incredibly grateful for her care—I felt it too. She had earned their loyalty, and each would choose to let her rest rather than wearing her out. Especially now, with only relatively minor wounds remaining.

Still, Ella bit her lip, hesitating. "There's just…so much more to do…"

I stepped behind her, wrapping my arms around her and letting her lean against me. I gave her a moment, but my embrace clearly communicated that she was in my care.

As she looked around the room, I followed her gaze. "Where's Hank? Or Cora?" I asked quietly, searching for a doctor.

"Cora's asleep," she answered. "And Hank…well, he went to bed a while ago too. And I…kind of snuck back in. And kept working."

"We told her not to, sir!" one of my closest soldiers called out. "She wouldn't be budged."

I smirked and nodded to the soldier before resting my chin on Ella's head.

"Trouble, through and through," I said, and she chuckled, stroking Rafe's sleeping head. "Come on," I said, gently pulling her toward the door.

"It doesn't feel right, Dominic," she sighed. "To leave them here in pain."

"You can start again when you're rested," I said quietly, leading her away. "I'll help."

"Are you coming?" she asked my father as we reached the door. "It's late."

"You go," he replied, waving a tired hand. "I'm not tired yet." She started to protest, but his worried eyes silenced her.

"I couldn't sleep if I tried, my dear," he said quietly. "Go rest—leave an old man to his thoughts."

Ella and I left, both our thoughts on him, worried for him. We said nothing as we returned to our room and prepared for bed.