Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate
⊰ 72 ⊱ Hidden Connections

**I Penelope I**

The silk sheets whisper against my skin as I trace lazy patterns on Malachi's chest. The warm afterglow of our lovemaking lingers, but it can't quite dispel the nagging worry that's taken root in my chest.

I can't shake the image of that man-bloodied and barely conscious-being dragged through the foyer. When I first walked into our bedroom earlier, I was determined to confront Malachi about it. But then I saw him step out of the shower, water cascading down his muscular form, that predatory gleam in his eyes. It ignited something primal within me, and all my resolve melted away, replaced by an overwhelming *need* to have him.

Now, as the late afternoon sun filters through the gauzy curtains, casting a golden glow across our tangled limbs, my thoughts circle back to that mysterious captive.

*Who is he? Why was he being dragged to the dungeon so... beaten and battered?*

Malachi's fingertips graze my shoulder, his touch gentle and soothing. The repetitive motion is comforting, but it's not enough to silence the questions bubbling up inside me. *It's now or never.*

"Mal?" I say softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "Can I ask you something?"

His chest rumbles beneath my ear as he responds, "Of course, little rabbit. What's on your mind?"

I take a deep breath, inhaling his familiar scent. It steadies me as I broach the subject. "That man... the one they brought in earlier. Who is he?"

I feel Malachi tense beneath me, his caress on my shoulder pausing for a heartbeat before resuming. The silence stretches between us, and I can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he decides how much to tell me.

Finally, he lets out a long sigh. "I suppose there's no point in hiding it from you," he says, his voice tinged with resignation. "Last night, there was a trespasser in our territory. I chased him down, but he wasn't alone. There were four other wolves with him."

I push myself up onto my elbow, my eyes widening as I look at him. The sheets pool around my waist, but I barely notice the cool air on my skin. "Four? What happened to them?"

Malachi's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes, usually warm when he looks at me, have hardened to something darker. "We killed them," he says, his voice devoid of emotion. "The one you saw downstairs... he's the only one we managed to capture alive."

A shiver runs down my spine at the casual way he speaks of killing. It's easy to forget sometimes, wrapped in the comfort and luxury of the mansion, just how dangerous this world-*his* world-can be. I swallow hard, trying to wrap my mind around it all.

"Do you know what they wanted?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Malachi hesitates, and I can see the internal debate playing out in his eyes. He reaches up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my cheek. Finally, he meets my gaze, a serious look on his face. "The one we caught... he had one of your shirts, Penny."

My breath catches in my throat, a cold tendril of fear snaking its way through my chest. "My shirt? But how... why?"

"We don't know for sure," Malachi says, his arm tightening around me protectively. "But I can only assume they took it to pass around your scent. To put a target on you."

*A target on me..? Why?*

Fear grips my heart, not just for myself, but for our unborn child. My hand instinctively moves to my swollen belly, as if I could somehow shield our baby from the dangers lurking outside. "But how did they get it? And why me?" Malachi places his large, warm hand over mine on my belly, a comforting touch. "I don't know, little rabbit. The bastard isn't talking. But I promise you, I'm going to find out. No one is going to hurt you or our son. I'll make sure of it." I nod, wanting to believe him, needing to believe him. But I can't shake the fear that coils in my gut. Because I know Malachi will do whatever it takes to keep his word. And that means he's in danger too.

We lay there in silence for a while longer, each lost in our own thoughts. The room grows darker as the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the floor. Eventually, Malachi's breathing evens out as he drifts off to sleep, the events of the past day finally catching up with him.

But rest eludes me. I toss and turn, unable to get comfortable. My mind races with worry and unanswered questions, each more unsettling than the last. The baby seems to sense my unease, kicking and squirming restlessly. *Just a few more weeks of this... A few more weeks till the baby comes. I can do this.*

Finally, frustrated and resigned, I carefully extricate myself from Malachi's arms. I slip back into my sundress, the soft cotton a poor substitute for the warmth of Malachi's embrace. Glancing at the ornate clock on the bedside table, I see it's just past midnight. The thought of food suddenly appeals to me.

*Maybe I just need a snack.*

As I open the bedroom door, I'm surprised by the absence of Derek. Then I remember-with Malachi in the room, there was no need for additional protection. It's a rare moment of solitude, one that I hadn't realized how much I craved until

now.

The mansion is eerily quiet as I make my way through the halls, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. The usual bustle of pack activity is absent, making the house feel almost abandoned. It's unsettling, but also strangely liberating. Now, I could really get used to this.

As I descend the main staircase, a peculiar sensation washes over me. It's like a pull, tugging at something deep inside me. I try to ignore it, tell myself it's nothing-probably just pregnancy hormones playing tricks on me. But the harder I try to push it away, the stronger it becomes.

Before I know it, I find myself moving towards the dungeon. The rational part of my brain screams at me to turn back, to return to the safety of Malachi's presence. But that pull... it's stronger than ever now, an insistent tug that I can't seem to ignore.

Suddenly, I hear voices approaching. My heart leaps into my throat as I quickly duck into a shadowy alcove, praying I won't be seen. I recognize Axel's urgent voice, tinged with stress.

"We need to get him talking, and soon," he says to two other men-Garrett and Ryker, I think. "Malachi is not going to be happy if we don't make progress."

I hold my breath as they pass, not daring to move until their footsteps fade away. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure anyone nearby could hear it. I know I should turn back, but that pull... it's like a siren's call now, impossible to resist. I take a deep breath, making the decision I hope not to regret.

*I'll just take a quick peek. No one will ever know. Especially not Malachi.*

The heavy door to the dungeon is a challenge, its ancient hinges groaning in protest as I struggle to open it just enough to slip through. The stairs seem to stretch endlessly before me as I descend, one hand protectively cradling my belly, the other gripping the cold stone wall for support.

The air grows colder and damper with each step, carrying the musty scent of age and despair. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, echoing softly in the narrow stairwell. At the bottom, I pause, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light cast by flickering torches.

And then I see him. The captive. He's slumped in a chair within a cell, his head bowed as if unconscious. Dried blood cakes the side of his face, and angry bruises mottle his visible skin. I take a shaky breath, inching closer despite every instinct screaming at me to run.

*Who are you..? Why was I drawn here... to you?*

Suddenly, his ear twitches. A soft growl, more like a purr, rumbles from his chest. Slowly, agonizingly, he raises his head.

Our eyes meet, and in that instant, an image flashes in my mind-the wolf I saw from the balcony, its piercing gaze seeming to look right into my soul. Recognition hits me like a lightning bolt, stealing the breath from my lungs. "It's you," I whisper, the words escaping me before I can stop them.

The man's lips curl into a smile, his eyes gleaming with something...satisfaction, maybe? Delight?

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He just watches me, studying me. Then, his deep, rough voice sends a chill down my spine as he speaks, "Hello Penelope."