Lahat ng Kabanata ng Surrogate for the Alpha : Kabanata 81 - Kabanata 90

The heavy clock on the far wall ticked louder than usual, slicing through the silence between the two men. The fire in the hearth crackled lazily, throwing uneven shadows across the room—stretching, shrinking, then swallowing whole the expression on Greyhem’s face. For the first time in years, the Alpha of the Darkmoon Pack did not wear his usual devilish smirk. No arrogance, no mischief—only a deep, troubled frown that sat like a scar across his features. His elbows rested on his knees, hands pressed together under his chin, and his eyes fixed blankly on the half-open file before him. He breathed out slowly, the exhale sounding more like surrender than fatigue. “You humans…” he began, voice rough but steady, “You think you understand history, but you only read what’s left after the blood dries.” Corey tilted his head, his wine glass paused halfway to his lips. “When you say you humans, what do you mean exactly?” His tone was careful—half teasing, half cautious. Greyhem’s eye

The mansion gates burst open as the guards drove in, tires screeching against the stone. Derrick was already outside before the engine stopped. “Boss!” he shouted, rushing to the back seat. Corey was half-conscious, blood dripping down the side of his face, shirt torn from the crash. Without hesitation, Derrick crouched and lifted him onto his back despite the weight, his muscles straining but his grip firm. “Call the family doctor—now!” Derrick’s voice thundered across the yard as he carried Corey inside, each stride echoing panic through the halls. In his room, Derrick laid him on the bed, already barking orders. “Get the first aid box—now! We need to stop the bleeding before Doc gets here!” A guard sprinted away while another ran to bring clean clothes. Derrick tore away Corey’s bloodied shirt and began cleaning the wounds with disinfectant. His hands trembled; his eyes were red and wide with fear. He muttered under his breath, “Dammit… I should’ve gone with him…” Moments l

The heavy doors of the dark mansion swung open. James walked in, his polished shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor — click, click, click — echoing through the silent hall like a countdown.His suit jacket hung open, unbuttoned down to the fourth button, revealing a white shirt loosened at the collar. His usually calm face was tight with worry. He didn’t spare a glance at the guards bowing as he passed, his steps unbroken, purposeful.Reaching the study, he pushed the door open without knocking. Vince sat behind his desk, speaking quietly with Bruno.James dropped the briefcase he’d been carrying onto the table with a thud.“Where is she?”Vince paused, eyes slowly lifting from Bruno to James, a slow smile curving his lips.“Well… welcome back to the country, CEO. And good afternoon to you, too,” he said, voice dripping with mock politeness.James exhaled sharply, running a hand through his slicked-back hair.“Yeah, my bad. Hi, boss.” He turned slightly toward Bruno, giving

“Go change into clean clothes and come downstairs for lunch, Maya,” James said. Maya pouted. “Okayyy, big brother.” She blew a kiss toward Janis’s tummy. “I’ll be right back in a jiffy, baby!” she said and ran upstairs, her footsteps thudding before her door slammed shut. James chuckled, shaking his head. “Her Maya,” he muttered, waving at the guard who’d been standing by since Maya arrived. The guard bowed and went outside, driving both cars into the garage beside the house. Janis finally sat down, eyes still exploring the glass walls. “Won’t people see us from outside?” she asked, her tone soft and innocent. “Of course not,” James said, smiling. “But we can see them from here. Top security measures.” “Oh.” Moments later, Maya came running back in, now in a clean white dress and shiny shoes. The three of them had a heartfelt lunch — James’s cooking filling the air wit

The dining room felt strangely quiet that evening. Lara sat at the long polished table, pushing a piece of roasted potato across her plate. The clatter of cutlery was softer than usual, almost hesitant. Even the chandeliers seemed dimmer, as though the house itself was holding its breath. Alex sat across from her, trying to act normal but failing miserably — his smoke flickered every now and then, betraying his nerves. Peter stood by the wall, stiff as a statue, watching the doors like he expected an attack at any moment. But more than any of them… Crane’s empty seat burned. Lara glanced at it for the fifth time. She took another small bite — only because Alex had begged her earlier — but the food tasted like dust. Her stomach twisted, not from pregnancy, but from worry. “Is… is Crane still working?” she asked quietly. Three men froze. Alex’s fork paused mid-air. Peter looked away. Yousef, seated beside her, cleared his throat softly. The silence told her every