Chosen To Be The Alpha's Surrogate
⊰ 81 ⊱ Bound by His Power

**I Penelope I**

The jolt of the plane touching down startles me from a fitful sleep. For a moment, disorientation clouds my mind as I peel my cheek from the cool window. Blinking away the haze, I take in my surroundings-the plush leather seats, the soft hum of the engines winding down, the faint scent of sandalwood in the air. For a heartbeat, I allow myself to hope it was all just a terrible nightmare.

But as reality comes crashing back, my heart sinks. *This is real...*

The plane rolls to a stop, the sudden silence deafening. I hear movement behind me, the soft rustle of fabric and the quiet tread of footsteps on carpet. My muscles tense instinctively, my breath catching in my throat as Rook appears in my peripheral vision.

He doesn't say a word as he crouches before me. His hands move to the ropes binding my wrists and ankles, and I can feel the odd warmth radiating from his skin. The ropes fall away, my skin aching from the slight throb.

In that moment, something snaps inside me. A surge of defiance, of desperate anger, courses through my veins like liquid fire. Without thinking, I lash out. My palm connects with Rook's cheek, the sharp crack of the slap echoing in the cabin. The sting in my hand is oddly satisfying.

Caught off guard, Rook's head snaps to the side. Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I kick out, my foot connecting with his chest. It's not much, but it's enough to give me the space to scramble to my feet.

My heart pounds in my ears as I stand, legs shaky from disuse. Freedom is so close I can almost taste it. If I can just make it to the door...

But that's as far as I get. A low, menacing growl rumbles through the air, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Before I can take another step, Rook's hand clamps down on my arm. His grip is like iron, fingers digging into my flesh as he yanks me back. *No!*

The world spins as he shoves me roughly into the seat. His other hand grips my jaw, fingers pressing painfully into my skin. I whimper, my hands fly up instinctively, clawing at his grip, but it's like trying to move a mountain. Rook's eyes meet mine, and I feel my breath catch. They're glowing that eerie yellow I saw from the balcony, but up close, it's terrifying. Because it's not just a color-it's power made visible, primal and overwhelming. I'm pinned in place, unable to look away.

He takes my wrists in his free hand, the movement so fast I barely register it. With a snarl, he shoves my head back against the seat. Pain shoots where my skull connects with the headrest, and I cry out, tears springing unbidden to my eyes. "Don't make me do something I'll regret," Rook growls, his voice low and dangerous.

The power radiating from him is suffocating. It's not just physical strength-it's something more, something that speaks to a primal part of me I didn't even know existed. I tremble beneath his grip, feeling small and utterly helpless. A sob bubbles up in my throat, escaping before I can stop it.

From the corner of my eye, I see movement. Rook's mate approaches, a calm mask on her face. She places a hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle as she calls his name, "Rook."

For a moment, I dare to hope she might intervene.

But one look from Rook is all it takes. His eyes flick to her, that yellow glow intensifying, and she immediately steps back. Her submission is instant and complete, and my heart sinks. *No one's here to help me...*

Rook turns his attention back to me, his grip loosening slightly but still firm enough to bruise. "You *will* respect me, do you understand?" he growls. Each word feels like it's being etched into my very being. "This is *my* home, and I will *not* tolerate insolence."

I want to kick, to argue, to scream. But it's like all the fight has been drained out of me, the fire in me put out mercilessly.

I hiccup, nodding as much as his grip allows. "Y-yes," I manage to whisper, my voice small and broken. I don't dare challenge him further. This is different from anything I've experienced before, even with Malachi. The bond between Rook and me seems to give him a control that goes beyond physical-it reaches into my very core.

Satisfied with my submission, Rook releases me and stands. The sudden absence of his touch leaves me feeling oddly bereft, even as relief washes over me. Without a word, he grabs my arm again, his grip firm but not as punishing as before. He practically drags me off the plane, my legs unsteady beneath me. The bright sunlight assaults my eyes as we step outside, and I squint against the glare. The heat hits me next, a wall of warmth that's a stark contrast to the plane's cool interior. Salt-tinged air fills my lungs, carrying the faint scent of tropical flowers.

I want to look up, to try to figure out where I am, but before I can take in much of our surroundings, Rook shoves me none too gently into a waiting limo. I scramble across the soft leather seat, putting as much distance between us as I can. My heart is still racing, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Rook's mate is already inside, sitting across from me. Her face is a study in nonchalance, as if this is just another day for her. *Maybe it is.*

This is their world—a world where Alphas demand absolute respect, and any perceived slight is met with swift, harsh punishment.

*Just like Tarlac...*

The limo door closes with a soft thud, and Rook slides in next to his mate. The vehicle starts moving almost immediately, the gentle hum of the engine filling the silence.

I sit there, arms wrapped protectively around my swollen belly, head bowed. Soft, uncontrollable hiccups punctuate the atmosphere, but I don't dare make any other sound. I can feel the baby moving restlessly, responding to my distress. I want to soothe him, to promise that everything will be okay, but I can't bring myself to utter empty reassurances.

I can't bring myself to look at Rook directly, but from the corner of my eye, I see him holding his chin between his thumb and index finger, staring out the window. The tension in the air is so thick I feel like I might suffocate from it. As the limo glides smoothly along, my mind races.

*How did I end up here?*

Just days ago, I was safe in Malachi's arms. Now, I'm trapped in a nightmare I can't seem to wake from.

Guilt gnaws at me.

*If I hadn't been so naive, so trusting... if I had just listened to Malachi...*

But no, I can't think like that. I have to stay strong, for my baby if nothing else.

*Malachi... please save us. Please...*

The limo finally rolls to a stop. I hear the driver's door open and close, footsteps crunching on what sounds like gravel. He approaches our door but doesn't open it, clearly waiting for Rook's command.

"Penelope," Rook's voice breaks the silence, making me flinch. I shift my eyes to see him in my periphery but don't respond. He reaches out, and I can't help but tense as his hand gently touches my chin. Still, I refuse to meet his gaze, fear and defiance warring within me.

"Penelope," he says again, more firmly this time. The command in his voice is unmistakable.

"Yes?" I whisper, hating how small and broken I sound.

He sighs and pulls back. There's a pause, heavy with unspoken tension, before he speaks again. "You will walk beside me. Do you understand?" *No. I don't want to.*

But I don't dare voice that. Instead, I nod, then quickly add a soft, "Yes," fearing a nod alone won't be enough to satisfy him.

Rook knocks once on the window, and the door opens. He steps out first, and I hesitate, unsure if I should follow.

*What if I just sit here? What if I don't get out?*

But then, Rook's mate speaks up from scores from me, her voice neutral but with an undercurrent of warning. "Go," she says. "You don't want to keep him waiting."

I look up at her, hoping against hope to see some sympathy in her eyes, but there's none. Just cool indifference. With a sinking heart, I slide out of the limo on shaky legs.

As I stand, blinking in the bright sunlight, the reality of where I am hits me.

*We're on an island.*

A small, achingly beautiful tropical island that might as well be on another planet for how far it feels from home.

The sand beneath my feet is blindingly white, so fine it's almost like powder. Palm trees sway gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling softly. The air is heavy with the scent of salt and tropical flowers, and I can hear the distant crash of waves against the shore.

In any other circumstance, it would be paradise. But as I take in the endless expanse of ocean surrounding us, my heart sinks to my feet. The full weight of my situation crashes down on me like a physical blow.

*Malachi will never find me here...*

Not on this tiny speck of land in the middle of the ocean.