Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

**I Penelope I**

Pain tears through me like a knife, stealing my breath and bending my body in half. The world narrows to this single point of agony, this overwhelming pressure that feels like it might split me in two. I grip the edges of the birthing bed until my knuckles turn white, a scream building in my throat that I can no longer contain.

"That's it," the midwife encourages, her voice seeming to come from miles away. "Good girl. The contraction is almost over."

As the pain finally begins to ebb, I collapse back against the sweat-soaked pillows, gasping for air. My hair clings to my face and neck in damp tendrils, and the thin white gown they've given me is practically transparent with perspiration.

"Malachi," I whisper, his name falling from my lips in a desperate plea. "I need Malachi."

Kira, who hasn't left my side since my water broke, wipes my forehead with a cool cloth. Her eyes hold sympathy, but her voice is firm. "You know that's not possible, Penelope."

"Please," I beg, already feeling the next contraction building, a gathering storm of pressure and pain. "He should be here. He's the father."

"Rook was clear," she says, her voice dropping lower. "After what happened last night..."

She doesn't finish the sentence, but she doesn't need to. The image of Malachi's unconscious, bloodied form being dragged away flashes through my mind, sharp as broken glass. The painful memory gives new fuel to my determination.

"This is his child!" I grab Kira's wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her wince. "Rook can't do this. He can't keep a father from his son's birth. It's wrong, Kira. You know it's wrong."

Something flickers in her eyes-agreement, perhaps, or at least understanding. But before she can respond, the next contraction hits, more powerful than the last. I arch up from the bed, a scream tearing from my throat.

"Nine centimeters," the midwife announces after checking me. "Almost there. It won't be long now."

Hours blur together in a haze of pain and exhaustion. The storm that began last night rages on outside, rain lashing against the windows as thunder shakes the foundations of the castle. Each contraction comes harder and faster than the last, until there's barely time to breathe between them.

"I can't," I sob after a brutal wave. "I can't do this anymore."

"You can," a deep voice says from the doorway.

I open my eyes to see Jax standing there, his powerful frame filling the entrance. Our eyes lock, and something pulses between us-that connection I've tried so hard to deny.

"Get out," I hiss, anger temporarily overriding pain. "This is your fault. All of it."noveldrama

He doesn't flinch at my accusation, just steps further into the room. "You need strength right now. I can help."

"The only person I *need* is Malachi," I say, tears streaming down my face. "Please, just tell Rook to let him come. Just for this. Please, Jax."

A shadow passes over his face. "Rook won't allow it. Not after what happened." He moves closer, his voice dropping. "Malachi nearly killed two of our guards trying to escape this morning. He's been sedated for his own safety."

*Oh, Mal...*

Even now, he continues to fight to reach me, to be here for the birth of our son. But instead, he's drugged into unconsciousness somewhere in the bowels of this castle. Before I can respond, the strongest contraction yet grips me. Something shifts inside, an overwhelming pressure and burning sensation that makes me cry out.

"She's crowning," the midwife announces. "It's time to push."

Terror floods me then-raw, primal fear. This is happening too fast, too soon.

*The baby isn't due for a couple weeks yet. What if something's wrong? What if I can't do this without Malachi?*

As if sensing my panic, Jax moves to my side. "Breathe," he says, his voice steady and calm. "Just breathe."

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I want to tell him to get away from me, that I don't want his help. But another contraction builds, and suddenly breathing seems like an insurmountable task. Without thinking, I grab his outstretched hand, squeezing with all my might as I bear down.

"That's it," the midwife encourages. "Push again with the next one."

The next few minutes are a blur of pain and effort unlike anything I've ever experienced. I push when told, rest when allowed, my body working on instinct now rather than conscious thought. Jax remains beside me, his hand in mine, his voice a steady anchor in a storm of sensation.

And then, finally, a different cry fills the room-high and indignant, announcing his arrival to the world.

"It's a boy," the midwife says, her voice warm with joy. "A beautiful, healthy boy."

The pain recedes like an outgoing tide, leaving me trembling and weak. Through tear- blurred vision, I watch as they lay him against my chest while cleaning him. They lift him for just a moment, wrapping him in a towel before handing him to me once more. And then he's in my arms-tiny, perfect, his face scrunched in displeasure at the indignity of birth.

"Hi, little one," I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion. "Momma loves you."

His eyes open then, looking up at me with a gaze that seems impossibly aware. Not the blue-gray of most newborns, but a startling amber-gold that makes my breath catch.

Jax leans over, his expression a mixture of awe and something deeper I can't name. "He has wolf eyes," he murmurs. "Strong. Like his mother."

The baby turns toward Jax's voice, his tiny brow furrowing. And something happens then-something I feel rather than see. A flicker of energy, a connection forming that shouldn't be possible.

My son, barely minutes old, recognizes Jax. Responds to him in a way that transcends normal awareness.

"What's happening?" I ask, alarm cutting through my exhaustion. "Why is he " "The marking," Kira says softly from the foot of the bed. "When Jax marked you, the baby was inside you. Connected to you." She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. "The bond... it affects him too."

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Horror and understanding dawn simultaneously. "No," I whisper, clutching my son closer. "That's not possible. He's Malachi's son."

"And he still is," Jax says, his voice tight. "But he's also connected to me now. Through you."

*No... that's not possible. It can't be possible.*

My son, barely minutes old, already caught in the same impossible triangle as his mother. Bound to a father who should be here but isn't, and to a man who isn't his

father but shares a primal connection with him anyway.

"Get out," I tell Jax, my voice shaking. "Please, just... go."

To my surprise, he obeys without argument. At the door, he pauses, looking back at me

cradling our-no, my and Malachi's son.

"What will you name him?" he asks softly.

I look down at the tiny face, at those unusual eyes that seem too knowing for a

newborn. In them, I see a reflection of everything that's been lost.

"Elio," I say firmly. "His name is Elio."

*Light.* 

Because that's what he is a beacon in the darkness that has descended on all of us. And somehow, I know he will be the light that guides us through whatever comes next.

Jax nods once, then slips out of the room. As the door closes behind him, I press my lips to Elio's forehead, breathing in that perfect newborn scent.

"I'm so sorry your father isn't here," I whisper against his skin. "But I promise you, we'll find our way back to him. Somehow."