Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

Chapter 320

#Chapter 320 – The Archive

Cora

That evening, our car rumbles down the road towards the archive, Roger steady at the wheel. Another car with two guards follows behind us, keeping a steady eye out for anything strange. I sigh, already exhausted, even though I got more sleep than Ella or Roger or Sinclair last night. Still it wasn’t exactly a peaceful sleep – and then today, with the sketch artist…

I stare down at a copy of the sketch in my lap, at the face of the man I didn’t realize had been haunting my dreams. To be able to see him put on paper like this – it’s…it’s like staring at the ghost you didn’t know was haunting you. A little shiver passes through me and I neatly fold the page, placing it in the cup holder next to me, not wanting it in my hands anymore.

“You all right?” Roger asks, glancing over at me.

“Yeah,” I say, sighing again, my eyes on the road. “How long until we get there?”

“About two more hours,” he replies evenly, nodding towards the GPS system running on his phone. “We’re lucky that they’re staying open late for us.”

“We’re not lucky,” I murmur, leaning down to tug at the bottom of the jeans that Ella loaned to me which are, predictably, too short. “Sinclair is rich. Anyone will stay open that late in exchange for an insane donation.”

Roger smirks, glancing at me, but doesn’t reply. Because he knows I’m right.

I feel my phone buzz then, tucked under my thigh, and I pull it out, unlocking it and looking at the

new message on my screen.

Hank: It’s okay, I totally understand. I’m glad the baby is okay. Don’t worry about the clinic – I can hold it down for as long as you need. Have fun? Is that the right sentiment for a trip to an obscure shifter archive?

I smile, laughing a little inwardly at his joke. No, fun was not precisely the word I’d choose either, not for this trip. My smile falls, though, when another message pops onto the screen.

Hank: I miss you.

my leg. I look back to the windshield and realize that Roger is watching me from the

asks, smug. I know,

murmur, turning away.

it Ella?” he

turn to send a little glare his way. “It wasn’t Ella.”

me know that he knows. I sigh, closing my eyes and letting my head rest back against my seat, my

Hank, and I think of him seeing patients

dressed into my bedroom, gasping for him, and let him peel my

Before stuff happened.

stuff. Great stuff, even.

back and tell him that I miss him too?

it, turning it towards other things. I listen to the steady hum of the car, to the very, very faint sound of Roger breathing

that makes me just….incredibly cruel. I sigh, kind

jump at the soft touch of a hand on my shoulder. I gasp, spinning, to see Roger

a warm little smirk. “That’s how you woke me up this morning. With a jolt.”

the dark. “Are we here?” The car is parked but still running, the windshield wipers slowly

says. “Are you ready to go in? Do you need

seat, my eyes closed, and take a mental inventory of myself. Body? Stiff, but all right. Mind? Thoroughly shaken.

uninvestigated, for the

a little bit, perhaps surprised

car and unbuckling his seatbelt. “I heard from them,” he says, “but nothing of note. All is well at home. If we’re lucky, we can do our research here tonight and be home

car and I frown at him over the roof. “But then you won’t have slept at all, for twenty–four hours,” I

got stamina.” And then he heads

echoing in my mind is…I bet you fucking

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