Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

Chapter 134 – Ella Finds a Pa*sage

Ella

I wipe the tears from my face and scan the room, Sinclair’s voice ringing in my mind. I’m still upset with him for making me share my location, but I’m determined to escape before he can endanger himself coming after me. If there’s a way out of this room, I’m going to find it.

Let me help! My wolf requests eagerly, as exhilarated with adrenaline as I am.

You are helping. I roll my eyes. Whose instincts do you think I’m using here? Certainly not my useless human ones.

And it’s true, The stronger my wolf has become, the stronger all of my senses have become. My ears are cocked for the sounds of anyone approaching the room, my eyes are hawkishly raking over every nook and cranny in the bedroom, searching for the tiniest details on the walls and floors. My nose is scenting the air, trying to determine if there are strange draughts of air beyond the interiors of the small space. More than anything, I’m tapping into the strange and mysterious gut feelings which have recently been becoming more and more pronounced, hoping this sixth sense will help point me in the right direction. These are all things I wouldn’t have been able to do before – at least not in the same level of sharpness.

I pat my belly. “Mommy has a silly wolf, Rafe.”

The canine in question snorts in my head, Not as silly as his fathers.

overprotective inner animal who has a conniption if his scent fades from my skin or tries to bribe me with stolen children so I’ll

is fresh in my memories, and the pain I feel for the pain I love

with renewed determination. “Mommy’s going to get us out of this.”

walk along the interior walls, checking behind every painting, lifting every vase, shoving at the bookcases and tilting and tugging each and every book. I scour the space with a fine-toothed comb, feeling along the plaster and trying not to get dissuaded when I come up empty handed. Still, it’s difficult not to feel

lifting the grate. Nothing happens. I run my fingers along the underside of the square opening, praying that I find some sort of button or handle, but again I

lift the poker, but it won’t budge. I yank at the handle, but it remains firmly in place, as if it is glued to the floor. My heart begins to race, and instead of lifting, I try to pull it from side to side. With a forceful tug, it finally deploys,

down and cheer. My spirit soars, and I hurriedly flit around the room, pulling the curtains closed and unmaking the bed. I’m listening intently for the sound of anyone approaching, terrified that a guard might walk in while the pa*sage is open, but also afraid of making more noise than I already have by closing it. I dash to the desk and frantically try to figure out what to write. The cipher Sinclair suggested isn’t the problem – the question is what on earth I should say to

I settle on the

Royal Highness and Her Unholy Pain in

about them first. Even though I may look like a helpless damsel, it’s not in my nature to surrender. Please consider doing more research in advance of your next scheme, or I’m afraid you might be doomed to fail again. Losing may be what you’re accustomed to, but if you just apply yourself and put in the work, you’d be amazed at what you can achieve. And while I offer this humble advice for your diabolical schemes out of the goodness of my heart (I do worry that if you continue to be such an utter and complete failure, it might further degrade your mental health and you’re already plenty psychotic), I must warn you against targeting me again. Continuing to move against Sinclair is not only dangerous, it is phenomenally stupid. Eventually he will

Sincerely,

Ella Sinclair

P.S. Go fuck yourself.

grab the tin, leaving the rest behind, and tuck it into my pocket. I quickly return to the fireplace and

I search for a way to close the pa*sage from the inside, soon finding a similar lever as the one disguised as a poker. The stone closes behind me, and suddenly I’m in utter, complete darkness. If my wolf was fully awake, I’d probably be able to see through the pitch black tunnel, but instead I can only make out dim shadows. Still, it’s certainly better than nothing. Thanking the goddess for the first step of my escape, I pray that this pa*sage leads me straight out of the palace and that I don’t have to navigate

You’ll be more stressed by remaining in danger than you will by a little exercise. My wolf reasons, but I’m not sure. I slow