Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Penelope I**noveldrama

Elio's tiny fingers curl around mine as he nurses, his unusual amber-gold eyes fixed on my face with an awareness that still unnerves me. Two days old, and already he seems to understand more than he should. I stroke his soft cheek, marveling at the perfection of him while my heart aches with a pain that feels almost physical.

*Malachi should be here.*

Every time I look at our son, I see pieces of him-the shape of Elio's mouth, those battling lashes I'd kill to have. Features that remind me of what's been taken from us.

A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

"Come in," I call, adjusting the blanket over Elio and my breast.

Kira enters, carrying a wooden tray laden with jars and bottles. Her smile is gentle, careful—she's been walking on eggshells around me since the birth. Since she witnessed me begging for Malachi and having to settle for Jax instead.

"I brought some remedies," she says, setting the tray on the bedside table. "Traditional herbs our tribe has used for generations to help new mothers recover."

I don't respond, just shift Elio to my shoulder to burp him. My silence hangs heavy in the air between us.

"This one," she continues, holding up a jar of dark paste, "is made from wild birchroot and heatherbloom. It helps with the afterpains and speeds healing." She opens another container filled with what looks like dried leaves. "And this tea strengthens the milk and replenishes your energy."

"I'm fine," I say flatly.

Kira sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Penelope, I know you're angry. I understand

"Do you?" The words come out sharper than I intended, my postpartum hormones intensifying every emotion. "Do you understand what it's like to have your child's father locked away while another man claims rights to your baby? Do you understand what it feels like to have your mate's mark overwritten? To feel your body respond to someone it shouldn't?"

Elio whimpers, sensitive to my distress. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down as I gently pat his back.

"No," Kira admits quietly. "I don't understand that. But I do understand feeling trapped. Powerless." Her eyes meet mine. "And I want to help, if you'll let me."

Part of me—the rational part—knows Kira isn't responsible for my situation. She's been kinder than most, bringing me extra food, checking on me throughout the night, making sure Elio and I have everything we need. But another part, raw and wounded, wants to lash out at anyone connected to Rook, to Jax, to this entire impossible situation.

"You've been in this room for two days," she says, changing tactics. "You should go for

a walk, get some fresh air. It'll help your recovery and your spirits."

I tighten my hold on Elio. "I'm not leaving him. Not with you, not with anyone."

Instead of taking offense, Kira nods with understanding. "You don't have to." She reaches for a length of soft fabric draped over her arm. "Here, let me show you something."

With evident practice, she demonstrates how to wrap the fabric around my body, creating a secure pouch for Elio. "It's how mothers in our tribe have carried their babies for centuries. Hands-free, but keeps them close to your heart where they belong."

Despite my reluctance, I'm intrigued. After she helps me position Elio in the wrap, I stand up gingerly. He settles against my chest, his warm weight oddly comforting against the constant ache in my heart.

"Thank you," I say stiffly, refusing to fully thaw.

"You're welcome." Kira moves toward the door. "I'll walk with you."

"I can walk myself," I say, even as I follow her into the hallway.

She glances back at me with a wry smile. "I know you can. But I'm not leaving you alone anyway."

We move through the castle at a slow pace, my body still tender from childbirth. Elio dozes against my chest, occasionally making those tiny mewling sounds that make my heart expand with love I never knew I was capable of feeling.

Despite my determination to remain aloof, the change of scenery does improve my mood slightly. After walking in silence for several minutes, I find myself asking, "Where are we going?"

"There's a small courtyard garden not far from here," Kira says. "It's private, peaceful. Good place to sit in the sun for a while."

As we turn down another corridor, I try not to think about how I have no idea where in this massive castle they're keeping Malachi.

*Is he close? Can he somehow sense that his son has been born?*

The thought sends a fresh wave of grief through me.

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"You know," Kira says conversationally, breaking into my thoughts, "when I first saw Elio's eyes, I wasn't surprised."

Despite myself, I'm curious. "What do you mean?"

"Those amber-gold eyes aren't just unusual-they're a mark of the royal bloodline. The last princess born to the Northern Tribe had eyes just like his."

"Princess?" I echo, the word still feeling foreign when applied to me.

Kira nods, leading me through a small door that opens into a courtyard bathed in afternoon sunlight. Stone benches line a circular garden filled with flowers similar to the ones in Jax's private garden, though not quite as exotic.

"Your mother," she confirms, guiding me to a bench partially shaded by a flowering tree. "The stories say her eyes could pierce through deception, that she could read truth in a person's soul with a single glance."

I look down at Elio, sleeping peacefully in his wrap. "And you think he inherited this... ability?"

"It's possible. The royal line carries gifts that ordinary wolves don't possess. Enhanced intuition, stronger bonds, deeper connections to our primal nature." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "It might explain his unusual awareness, his immediate response to Jax after birth."

At the mention of Jax, I stiffen. "That was because of the marking. Because Jax claimed what wasn't his to take."

"Perhaps," Kira concedes, her voice gentle. "Or perhaps it's both. The royal blood in him recognizing a true mate bond, responding to it in a way that transcends normal understanding."

I stroke Elio's head, his fine hair soft beneath my fingers. "Malachi is his father."

"Yes, he is," Kira agrees readily. "Nothing changes that. But the situation is... complex."

"It wouldn't be complex if Rook hadn't kidnapped me," I say bitterly. "If he had just let me go home where I belong."

Kira's expression shifts, something like regret flickering in her eyes. "Rook believes he's protecting you. From dangers bigger than you realize."

"So he keeps saying. But it's starting to feel like just an excuse to keep me here."

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Kira is quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. When she speaks again, her voice is lower, cautious. "The Continental King selection has been corrupted for generations. Power- hungry wolves manipulating the process, eliminating anyone who might bring true change."

My heart skips a beat. "Corrupted? How?"

She nods slightly. "Too many people are involved." She looks at me directly. "And they will do anything to make sure no one who should be crowned is. Including Malachi."

"What people? Who's behind this?" I demand, my pulse quickening.

Kira glances around, suddenly anxious. "We should head back. You shouldn't push yourself too hard so soon after giving birth."

"Kira," I grab her arm as she stands. "Please. I need to understand what's happening." She gently extricates herself from my grip. "I've said too much already. Rook would..." She shakes her head. "Just know that things won't get easier from here. Not until the corruption is dealt with. Not until you accept the path that lies before you." "And what path is that?" I ask, frustration building in my chest. "Accepting Jax as my mate? Forgetting Malachi? Letting my son grow up without knowing his father?" "I don't have all the answers," Kira says, her expression softening. “I just know that fighting against a true mate bond only brings pain. For everyone involved."

I want to argue, to tell her she's wrong, that Malachi and I can overcome anything. But

Elio stirs against my chest, letting out a small whimper that quickly turns into a demanding cry.

The conversation will have to wait.

I adjust the wrap to feed him, trying to shake Kira's words from my mind. Looking

down at my son's hungry face, a determination surges through me.

*I will find Malachi. And we will get out of here.*

Nothing-not Rook, not Jax, not some shadowy corruption-will keep us apart forever.

*Hold on, Mal. We're coming for you. Somehow.*