THE ALPHA’S HUMAN SURROGATE 2

chapter 13

CATRIONA

I froze.

That voice…

It hadn’t changed.

Even after everything, even after years of silence, war, loss, and healing, Gabriel’s voice slid over my spine like cold silk.

He stood near the treeline, calm, composed—like he hadn’t shattered my world once before.

My heart thudded in my chest, and my instincts screamed louder than my thoughts.

Go inside. Now.

I turned on my heel to bolt back through the gates—but in a blur of movement, he was suddenly in front of me.

Too close.

I took a quick step back, crouching slightly in reflex, my breath catching.

Gabriel raised both hands slowly, palms open.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “If my presence bothers you.”

My teeth clenched. “If”?

“I’m not here to disrupt anything,” he continued. “I came for one reason.”

I didn’t answer. I only stared.

Then he said it.

“Abriel.”

Something inside me snapped.

I stood straight, eyes burning. “How do you know my son’s name?”

He didn’t flinch.

“And what about him could possibly concern you?”

Gabriel’s gaze didn’t waver. “I want to know if he’s my son.”

The words hit like a slap across the soul.

My blood ran cold.

“No,” I snapped, voice sharp and rising. “He’s not your son. Don’t say that again. Don’t think it. And don’t you ever come back here.”

I turned to head back toward the gate, but my legs trembled beneath me. My hands were shaking so hard I had to clench them into fists just to keep them from flying.

I made it a few steps before I heard feet rushing toward me.

“sister—wait!”

Edrine.

I turned, fury rising so fast it scorched my breath before it even left my lungs.

And without thinking—without warning—I slapped him hard.

The sound cracked through the air, louder than I expected.

Even I froze for a second.

So did he.

His face turned slightly from the hit, eyes wide, stunned.

I had never laid a hand on him. Not once. Not in all our lives.

But this—this betrayal, this violation of bringing Gabriel here—had pushed me past the edge.

“Let this,” I hissed, voice shaking, “be the last thing you ever do this, Edrine.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

I turned back and walked through the gates, ignoring the burn behind my eyes, the tremble in my knees, the roaring in my chest that drowned out everything else.

But once I was just inside—just past the guard post—I stopped.

My legs gave a soft buckling protest, and I leaned slightly against the gate wall, willing myself to hold upright.

“Luna?” the guard said quickly, reaching a hand toward me. “Are you alright?”

I closed my eyes for a breath, then forced a tight smile.

“I’m good,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”

But I wasn’t.

Not even close.

The gate creaked softly behind me as I leaned on it, the weight in my chest heavier than before. My breath trembled, not from the cold—but from the sting behind my eyes that I refused to let fall.

I shouldn't have hit him.

Edrine.

He was my baby brother.

I had protected him through everything—shielded him from pain. And I’d just hit him.

I turned slowly and unlatched the gate again.

Maybe I could still apologize. Maybe—

I stepped out and looked around—

Just in time to see Gabriel’s car disappear around the bend as it vanished between the trees.

Edrine was gone too.

Of course he was in the same car with Edrine.

My throat tightened. I shut the gate and walked back inside, the weight in my limbs now ten times heavier.

I made it to the main room and sank onto the couch like the entire house was pressing down on me. I rested my arms on my knees, leaning forward, trying to breathe through the storm inside.

My palms were clammy. My pulse was uneven.

What just happened?

Gabriel.

Edrine.

That question.

Is he my son?

It wouldn’t stop repeating in my mind, gnawing through every wall I tried to build.

And Jayden—where was Jayden?

I pulled out my phone again, desperate now, thumb trembling slightly as I redialed.

Voicemail.

Again.

“Jayden I whispered into the phone, my voice barely holding. “Please call me. I need you. I need your voice, I need your mind right now. Just… call me.”

I hung up before my voice could break.

He was the only person I wanted to talk to. The only one who would listen without judging. Who’d see me beneath the mess.

He always did. Even after our fights.

But right now, I was alone.

The sound of soft footsteps pulled me from my spiral.

I didn’t turn—didn’t even realize someone was close until I heard Lauren’s voice.

“Catriona?”

I blinked and looked up.

She stood a few feet away, her expression tight, uncertain, like she’d been hovering for longer than she wanted to admit.

“Yeah?” I asked, more sharply than I meant to.

She flinched slightly, then came closer and sat down beside me, slow and careful.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “You just… looked like you needed someone.”

Her voice was too quiet.

Too careful.

Like she knew she’d done something wrong…

But didn’t know how to say it.

I studied her carefully.

Her eyes kept shifting—away from mine, toward the window, the floor, anything that wasn’t me.

Her shoulders were drawn tight, and her fingers kept fidgeting at the hem of her sleeve. And that little attempt at a comforting smile?

Forced. Too forced.

I narrowed my eyes.

“Lauren…” I said quietly. “Is something bothering you?”

She blinked, then quickly shook her head.

“No. I mean—just worried about you, that’s all.”

I tilted my head.

“Don’t lie to me,” I said, voice low. “I know that look.”

Her lips parted slightly.

“You did something.”

The blood drained from her face.

She looked like someone who’d just been caught with her hand halfway in the fire.

She dropped her gaze, breathing a little heavier now. “Catriona, I…”

“Spill it.”

A long beat of silence.

She bit her lip, her hands gripping each other so tight I thought her knuckles might snap.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “There is something.”

My brows raised. I waited.

Lauren swallowed hard and met my eyes. “It’s about… what I did. What I told someone.”

My stomach twisted. “Told ‘who’ what?”

She hesitated.

And then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

“I told my mom. About what I became. About the werewolves. About… everything.”

The world tilted.

My heart stopped for a beat.

“You—what?”

Her eyes filled with guilt. “She kept asking. She always knew something was off, and I thought—I don’t know—I thought it would help if she understood. I didn’t tell her where I live or who you were or where the pack is. I swear I didn’t. But I told her the truth about me. About this life.”

I stared at her, stunned.

Silent.

She kept going, like she had to explain it all before I exploded.

“She’s my mother, Catriona. And I was tired of lying. Tired of making excuses. Tired of her thinking I was crazy or depressed or spiraling when I was actually… thriving.”

“And what did she say?” I asked tightly. “What did she do?”

Lauren hesitated. “… Of course she didn’t believe me. But then she cried. Said I was brainwashed. That I needed help. And then she hung up.”

I let out a breath.

A sharp, bitter one.

“Do you have any idea what kind of danger you’ve put us in?”

“I didn’t give names!” she protested quickly. “I didn’t say Jayden. Or you. Or the territory. I just… I just told her about me. About my life.”

I leaned back on the couch, my pulse hammering.

I sat up straighter, wiping the back of my hand over my face as my pulse settled into something colder. Firmer.

Lauren was still talking, rambling on now about how she didn’t mean harm, how she just wanted to feel “whole” again by letting her mother in.

But I wasn’t listening anymore.

Because something had shifted inside me.

Not rage. Not panic.

Clarity.

“Lauren,” I said quietly, and the way her name left my mouth made her stop mid-sentence.

She looked at me, eyes wide, waiting.

“You’re not just anyone here,” I said. “You live in this house. You’re under this roof. You know what that means?”

She swallowed. “Yes…”

“It means you don’t get the luxury of reckless choices. Not anymore.”

She flinched. “I didn’t tell her about the pack—”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cut in. “You told a human. About us. About werewolves. That alone puts all of us at risk.”

Her mouth trembled. “She’s my mom—”

“I get it.” My tone softened, but only slightly. “I do. I know what it means to want to protect the ones who raised you. But this world you live in? It doesn’t run on what’s fair. It runs on secrecy. On protection. And right now, you’ve weakened that shield.”

She looked like she might cry.

I didn’t look away.

“I’m not angry,” I said. “Not yet. But if something comes out of this—if strangers start sniffing around here, if anyone comes close to learning who we are or where we are—Lauren, I swear on the grave of my daughter, I will not hesitate to shut it down. And I will protect this family. With or without your understanding.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth like something had been bubbling inside her this whole time.

“But…” she said, almost hesitating, “you’re not one of us. I mean—” her voice faltered, “you’re not a werewolf.”

The room went silent.

For a moment, I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Her words echoed louder than they should’ve.

Then I stepped closer, the kind of quiet that carried weight in every footfall.

“You think that matters?” I asked, not shouting, not even angry—but steady. Lethally steady.

Lauren swallowed hard.

“I gave birth to one of its heirs. I’ve stood beside your Alpha when no one else dared. Sacrificed more than you’ll ever understand. So don’t you ever question where I stand, Lauren. Not again.”

She looked down, ashamed. Small.

Her lip quivered.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t think it would get this far.”

“No,” I said softly now, standing up. “You didn’t think at all.”

I walked away then. I didn’t have the energy to sit in her guilt.

Not when my own mind was already spiraling with everything else. Gabriel. Edrine. The spirits. The gate. Abriel.

I reached the stairs just as my phone finally buzzed in my hand.

Jayden.

I stopped moving and answered instantly.

“Jayden—”

His voice was already tight. “I felt something. What happened?”

I didn’t even know where to start.

So I gave him the only truth I had left:

“I think everything’s unraveling,” I said into the phone.

There was a pause.

Then Jayden’s voice came low and steady, the calm I didn’t realize I’d been desperate for.

“I’m coming home.”

Just those words.

And it was enough to settle something in my chest—just barely.

The call ended.

I lowered the phone slowly, staring blankly at the polished floor beneath my feet.

But my thoughts kept spiraling.

Edrine.

Gabriel.

Abriel’s drawings.

The whisper.

The gate.

The spirits that haunted my bloodline like a curse we could never shake.

And that’s when it hit me.

A flicker. A thread.

Thin as mist—but there.

I stood still for a moment as the realization pulsed behind my ribs.

Slowly, my lips parted as I whispered into the silence—

“I think I’ve found a way to reach the spirits.”