Surrogate to the Alpha

Chapter Seven

Derek

Derek hated being back in the city.

Every night he went back home and things felt right, so by the time morning came he’d forgotten how suffocating it felt — the noise, the fumes, the endless stream of people who walked like they owned the pavement and drove like they’d never passed a test in their lives.

Every day the same, on a loop, with not much to show for that effort. Over the past week he’d commuted here every day, and every day he questioned why he still bothered trying to run a business in a place that seemed determined to test his patience.

At least there had been no further traffic incidents. Small mercies.

Five people in his company had already lost their jobs because they seemed to think confidentiality was optional. The information they leaked hadn’t been catastrophic — just enough to redirect a few contracts to companies run by their relatives. Annoying, yes. Corrupt, absolutely. But Derek had to admit, begrudgingly, that at least one of those companies was doing a fantastic job at the site they were currently building. He might bring them on board for future projects… through the proper channels this time.

He took another sip of his lukewarm coffee, grimacing at the taste. He missed pack territory. He missed clean air. He missed silence and those hours spent away from home felt like agony.

His phone buzzed. Declan's name and face flashing on his phone.

He answered. “Any movement with the car?”

“I'm gad to see your biggest problem right now is that car,” Declan drawled. “But no. Rick said it’s still sitting in his yard.”

Rick was still part of the Blackwell pack but ran an impound in the city. Derek trusted him.

“But I did call about that, actually,” Declan added.

Derek’s jaw tightened. “You got anything else on the owner?”

Declan had quickly found the name and address of the little terror who caused the accident and fled. Mathilda Carter.

Derek conjured the woman’s image in his mind and scowled. She didn’t look like a Mathilda. But she did look like trouble — the kind of trouble that didn’t apologise, didn’t look back, and didn’t think twice before running.

The repairs on his car had been quick and not particularly costly, but Derek figured the woman would see it as a devastating blow to her wallet. As suspected, the car wasn’t insured. And Derek was known to hold a grudge.

He clung to the memory of her face. Her scent. Her voice when she snapped at him.

She’d run from him, and no one ran from him.

“Alpha? You still with me?”

Derek snapped out of his thoughts. “Yes, sorry. It’s been a long, shitty day.”

“I have a feeling this won’t help either,” Declan muttered.

“So… I found Mathilda. Only she’s fifty‑five years old, and she’s been in and out of the hospital for the last decade.”

A cold weight dropped into Derek’s stomach — confusion and dread twisting together.

“Hospital?” he repeated. “Is she—”

“She’s alive,” Declan cut in. “But she couldn’t have been the one driving that day.”

Derek made a noncommittal sound. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure she was younger than that.” Dressed like a fifty‑five‑year‑old, sure, but the woman was young. It was one of the things that startled him when he saw her.

“Based on what I found out,” Declan continued, “I think the woman who hit you might have stolen the car. It sure explains the running. And the impound notice was sent to Mathilda Carter’s address, but if she’s in the hospital…”

“…there’s no one to recover her car,” Derek finished. “s**t. She probably doesn’t know it was stolen.”

“You know what?” Derek said, rubbing his forehead. “Get Rick to drive the car back to that poor woman’s address. He can drop the keys in a mailbox or something.”

He could practically hear Declan’s smug grin.

“You already did it, didn’t you?”

“Rick’s on his way now.”

“Stop wasting my time, then,” Derek grumbled, hanging up — but not before hearing Declan’s boisterous laugh echo through the speaker.

Derek stared out the window again, jaw tightening. The city felt even more claustrophobic now.

Raised voices outside his office made him look up. The door opened without a knock, and a tall, gorgeous blonde with ruby‑red lips swept inside. One of the receptionists hurried in behind her, red‑faced and apologising without meeting Derek’s eye.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. Corrine is always welcome,” Derek said, waving the receptionist off.

Corrine grinned wider and strode in like she owned the place. "Told you he won't mind." She called after the woman she nearly got in trouble.

Confidence radiated off Corrine in waves — but Derek knew she wasn’t the mean b***h other women immediately labelled her as. She was sharp, yes. Intimidating, absolutely. But cruel? Never. Though her antincts didn't exactly helpt at times.

He stood and gave her a brief hug, then motioned for her to sit. Instead of taking one of the guest chairs, Corrine walked around the desk and settled into his chair — legs crossed, posture perfect, like she belonged behind it.

Derek shook his head, a little amused. Typical Corrine. Which meant she might not be as upset as she’d been when he called with news about the surrogate.

“You look exhausted,” she said, stating the obvious.

Derek sat in one of the guest chairs, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve had a long week.”

“You’ve had a long three years,” she corrected softly.

He didn’t respond. She wasn’t wrong.

Corrine studied him with that too‑perceptive gaze of hers — the one that always felt like it was searching for cracks he didn’t want anyone to see.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Derek. You never did.”

There was something in her eyes — something warm, something hopeful — that flickered whenever she talked about the future.

Corrine had been Freya’s closest friend, practically her sister. Her grief had been raw, fierce, and unrelenting. Sometimes Derek wondered if she carried Freya’s memory like a shield — or a chain.

She leaned across the desk, offering her hand. Derek touched her fingers with his. That was Corrine — she needed that reassuring touch, and Derek never wanted her to feel alone.

“Why do you insist on this surrogacy thing?” she asked quietly.

Derek withdrew his hand, keeping himself in check not to get angry.

“It’s time I had children. An heir. The pack deserves the Alpha lineage to continue,” he said, hoping there wouldn’t be more arguing.

“You could…” she began.

“I don’t want another mate.” His tone was final, his temper rising, his wolf close to the surface.

Corrine’s expression softened. “I know. I just… I wasn’t ready for you to want a child on your own.”

“Which is why I’m asking if you’ve calmed down enough to come with me when I meet the surrogate.”

“You really want me there?”

“You were Freya’s closest friend. You should be part of this.”

A soft, warm sound escaped her — almost a laugh, almost a sob. “Of course. Yes. I’ll be there.”

“Right,” Derek said, pushing himself to his feet. “Now let’s get out of here. It’s getting late and I’m itching for some clean air.”

“Can I ride with you? Sam drove me into the city earlier and she’s staying the night. I’m basically stranded here,” she laughed.

Derek huffed a laugh too. “I knew there was an ulterior motive. Come on, I’ll drive and you can call ahead and make sure we have dinner ready at home.”

She smiled — small, satisfied — and left the office with the confidence of someone who believed she belonged there.

And Derek, exhausted and restless, followed her out — unaware of just how tangled everything was about to become.