Sinclair
“Dominic?” My beta, Hugo, stands behind me, watching me with a worried expression. “We need you in the war room.”
“I want to be here when she wakes up.” I insist, keeping my gaze locked on Ella. She’s asleep in my bed, her small body curled beneath the covers. Her arms are bandaged from shoulder to fingertip, and bruises dot her fair skin in too many places to count.
Guilt ties my insides into knots just looking at them – some of those bruises were my doing, the results of my efforts to restrain her. Ella had remained unconscious as I carried her out of the forest, but when she woke, she fought me as hard as ever. The doctor was forced to give her a strong dose of a sleeping draft in order to treat her wounds, though he promised the potion would help break her shock.
“I under
