Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate

** Penelope I**

The private study feels like it's closing in on me. Dark wooden panels line the walls, heavy burgundy drapes block out most of the afternoon sun. I sit stiffly in a high- backed leather chair, Elio sleeping in my arms.

Across from me, Rook stands by a massive stone fireplace, one arm propped on the ornate mantel. Elijah occupies the chair beside mine, close enough that I can catch the familiar scent of his cologne the same one he wore at Malachi's mansion. It feels like

a lifetime ago.

Jax leans against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest, his presence silently ensuring I won't bolt. Not that I could, or would-not without answers.

*Not without Malachi.*

"Let me get this straight," I say, breaking the heavy silence that followed Rook's initial explanation. "You're telling me my parents-the King and Queen of the Northern Tribe -were assassinated because they discovered corruption in the Continental King selection?"

Rook nods grimly. "Our parents found evidence that certain bloodlines were being systematically eliminated or suppressed to maintain power in specific families."

"And you expect me to believe you've both been working together all this time to, what? Avenge them? Expose this corruption?" I turn my gaze to Elijah, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice. "The same Elijah who's been at Malachi's throat since I met him? The one who tried to kill me at the first ball Malachi took me t―"

"I wasn't trying to kill you," Elijah cuts me off.

"You released a some wild *beast* when "

"He needed to confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, you were who we thought you were," Rook interjects, my eyes snapping to him.

*He knew. The entire time, he knew...*

I part my lips, but before I can utter a sound, he continues. "I wouldn't have let it hurt you. I was standing right there, Penelope. You were never in any *real* danger."

I scoff, shaking my head. "You expect me to believe that? After everything you've done? After not only trying to drive a wedge between me and Malachi but also trying to convince Malachi to drop out of the race and support you as a candidate instead?" Elijah shifts in his seat, his usual mask of cool indifference slipping just enough to reveal discomfort. "It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it," I snap.

He sighs, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "My attempts to get Malachi to drop out were genuine. I wanted him safe, away from this mess. When he refused..." His jaw tightens. "I had to adjust our strategy."

"Our strategy," I repeat flatly. "And when exactly did you plan to tell Malachi about any of this? About *me*?"

Elijah and Rook exchange a glance that makes my blood boil.

"We couldn't," Rook says simply. "Malachi has many strengths, but subtlety isn't one of them."

"He would have gone directly after those responsible,” Elijah adds. "And gotten himself killed in the process."

I laugh bitterly, clutching Elio closer to my chest. "So instead, you let him suffer

through my disappearance? Let him think I'd been taken by enemies? Do you have any idea what that did to him?"

Elijah's expression hardens. "Better heartbroken than dead."

"That wasn't your decision to make!"

"Actually, it was," Rook interjects. "As your brother and Alpha of what remains of our tribe, protecting you-and by extension, your child is my responsibility."

"Don't," I warn, my voice low to avoid disturbing Elio. "Don't act like this was all about protecting me. You had years to find me, to tell me the truth about my heritage. Why wait until I was with Malachi? Why wait until I was pregnant?"

Elijah leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Because Malachi made you visible. Suddenly, the lost princess wasn't so lost anymore."

Something in his tone triggers a realization. "You knew where I was all along. Before I ever met Malachi."

It's not a question, but Elijah answers anyway. "Yes."

The single word lands like a stone in still water, ripples of implications expanding outward. If he knew where I was, if he was watching me...

"Did you arrange for me to meet Malachi?" I demand, my voice barely a whisper. Elijah's silence is damning.

"You son of a bitch," I hiss, anger coursing through me. "Was any of it real? Or was it all some elaborate scheme to-to what? Use me as bait? Use Malachi?"

"No one arranged your meeting," Rook cuts in firmly. "That was genuine chance. But once it happened, once you became involved with Malachi, you became a target."

"Because of the Continental King selection," I say through my teeth, annoyance and anger coursing through me. "Because Malachi is a contender."

Rook nods. "And because of who you are. The last direct descendant of the Northern Tribe's royal line. Your blood gives you a legitimate claim to influence the selection-a claim that threatens those who've controlled it for generations."

I look down at Elio, at his perfect innocent face, and the full weight of what this means crashes over me. "So it's not just me and Malachi in danger. It's our son too."

Elijah's expression softens marginally. "Now you understand why we've gone to such lengths."

"I understand you've been manipulating us," I counter, still not ready to trust him. "Why should I believe anything you say? You've always hated Malachi."

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Something flashes in Elijah's eyes-an old pain, a resentment so ingrained it's become part of him.

"I don't hate my brother," he says quietly. "I've spent my life trying to live up to the standard he set without even trying. Our parents made it clear who their favorite was. Malachi was always destined for greatness."

A bitter smile twists his lips. "I was the spare. The backup plan. But hate him? No. Everything I've done has been to protect him-even from himself."

I study his face, looking for tells of deception. But all I see is the raw truth of sibling

rivalry, of feeling perpetually second-best. It's perhaps the most genuine I've ever seen Elijah.

"Show her," Rook says suddenly.

Elijah hesitates, then reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a folded document. He hands it to me, careful not to disturb Elio.

I shift my son to one arm and unfold the paper with my free hand. It's old, the edges worn, the handwriting elegant but faded. As I scan the contents, my breath catches. "This is a birth record," I say, looking up in confusion.

Rook nods. "For Tarlac's great-grandfather. Note the parents."

I look again, more carefully this time. The mother's name means nothing to me, but the father's name is conspicuously absent. In its place, there's a notation: "Unknown, suspected human."

"I don't understand."

"The crown can only be held by pureblooded werewolves," Elijah explains. "This document proves Tarlac's lineage isn't pure. By the ancient laws, he's ineligible to be Continental King."

"So is this what my parents discovered? This birth record?"

"This and more," Rook says grimly. "They found evidence of systematic elimination of legitimate contenders, of rigged votes, of assassinations disguised as accidents or rogue attacks."

"Like Tarlac's wife," I realize. "The Luna Princess."

Elijah nods. "Except that wasn't supposed to happen. Tarlac himself was the target. Someone got sloppy-or was deliberately sloppy."

My mind reels. "But if all this is true, why not bring it to the Council? Why the secrecy? The manipulations?"

"Because the corruption goes all the way to the top," Rook says. "The current Continental King himself is implicated. After all, he's Tarlac's father. He should've never been crowned."

I shake my head, overwhelmed. "And where does Malachi fit into all this? If you're so concerned about protecting him, why is he locked up somewhere in this castle?"

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A look passes between Elijah and Rook that sends ice through my veins.

"What aren't you telling me?" I demand.

Elijah leans forward, a stern look on his face. "Malachi's bloodline isn't what we

thought it was. Our father isn't just any Alpha-he is descended from the Eastern Mountain Packs. Which means "

"Malachi has a legitimate claim to challenge the current Continental King," I finish, the realization dawning. "Even without being voted in as a contender."

"By right of blood," Rook confirms. "If he knew this, if he tried to press that claim without proper preparation, without the right allies..."

"He'd be killed instantly," Elijah says flatly.

I look down at Elio again, seeing his features with new eyes. My son, with his unusual amber-gold eyes from my royal bloodline and Malachi's hidden royal heritage.

"You still haven't answered my question," I say, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside me. "Where is Malachi now? I want to see him." "Soon," Rook promises. "But first, there's more you need to understand about what we're facing. We need you-both of you to play specific roles in what comes next."

I shake my head, a humorless laugh escaping me. "I'm not agreeing to anything until I see Malachi."

Jax pushes away from the door, speaking for the first time since we entered the room. "It's fine," he says to Rook. "Let her see him."

*Let her see him? Who the hell does he think he is? Talking like he gets to decide what

I can and can't do...*

I want to snap at him, to demand how dare he talk as if he gets to make decisions about and for me. But then I notice the look Rook gives Jax. For a moment, neither of them say anything, then Rook nods. "Tomorrow. You can see him tomorrow."

It's not enough, not nearly enough to make up for all the manipulation and lies. But it's a start.

"And after I see him?" I ask. "What then?"

Elijah's smile is grim. "Then we tell you how we plan to bring down the Continental King and everyone who's been corrupting the selection for generations."

I look around at these three men-my brother, my mate's brother, and my so-called *true mate*—and wonder how I ended up here, at the center of a conspiracy that spans decades and has already claimed countless lives.

Including, nearly, my own family's.noveldrama

Elio stirs against me, his tiny fingers curling around the edge of his blanket.

*Don't worry, sweet boy. Momma's going to do what she has to to keep you safe.*