Accidental Surrogate

Ella
“Cora, this is exactly what I needed!” I exclaim, raising my voice over the pounding music. “When was the last time we went out
just for the fun of it?”
“I can’t even remember!” She shouts back, beaming as multi-colored strobe lights flash over her lovely features. “When was the
last time you weren’t working or stuck taking care of that prick, Mike!?”
I don’t need to know the exact date to know it’s been ages – we haven’t had the freedom or money to go out in years, not that it
had been much of an option beforehand. Cora always offered to pay my way of course, but I never felt comfortable accepting
money from her, not to mention Mike would have accused me of trying to meet another man. Looking at my sister now, dancing
without a care to the thumping bass, I’m transported back to the first night we ever snuck into a club.
We were fifteen years old, and it was our second summer living in the streets rather than suffering at the orphanage. We couldn’t
survive the elements in the fall and winter, so we always ended up going back – but these summers were quickly becoming our
escape from all the troubles of the broken system, and this night was our first foray into the world of grown up night life.
We befriended the bartender, convincing him we were much older than our true age and bribing him with the little money we
could spare from our jobs at a local daycare center. He let us in without complaint, even offering us our first drink for free. It was
the first taste of alcohol we’d ever consumed, and the only amount we’d consume that night. We were determined to save our
money so we could afford an apartment together one day – even if that meant sleeping in cardboard boxes in the park, or
crashing on the floor of the daycare center in the meantime.
“This is amazing!” I cried, dancing without any inhibitions, raising my arms over my head as I swayed to the hypnotic beat.
“I never knew it could be so fun!” Cora replied happily. “Why isn’t dancing around in the dark at home this great?”
“Because we’re not allowed to have music,” I laugh, “or do anything even remotely resembling fun!”
“We should come back some time!” She suggests, obviously trying to figure out when we might be able to spend money again.
We both know it should be a special occasion, so I throw out, “The last night of summer! Before we go back to the orphanage!”
The memory shifts before I can stop it, sweeping me off to the night we’d agreed on during that first outing, to the last night of
summer. The evening had started out precisely the same way, with us changing in the children’s restroom at work, trying our best

to look grown up, and bribing our way in through the back door. It soon dissolved into a hazy fog of revelry, where Cora and I
spiraled into the dizzying lights and deafening music.
It was all wonderful until an aggressive man twice my age took me by the hand and began grinding his body against mine,
gripping me so tightly I couldn’t escape his hold no matter how hard I struggled. He pulled me away from Cora from the start, but
I didn’t truly panic until he began dragging me towards the bathroom. The music was so loud that no one could hear me crying
out for help. I wriggled and fought with all my might, but it wasn’t until Cora flagged down one of the bouncers to come and pry
the horrible man off me that I finally escaped.
It had been a close call, but one which was bound to raise other ghosts from the depths of my past – specters I have no intention
of resurrecting now. I reach for Cora, determined not to continue down the path into my shattered memories, “I need some air!” I
shout.
She’s been dancing with a handsome man who hit on her at the bar, looking as though she’s having the time of her life. Still, she
takes one look at my face, and her own crumples with concern. “I’ll come with you!”
“No,” I wave her off, “You stay and have fun, I’ll be back soon!”
I stalk out into the snow, not bothering to retrieve my coat from the coat check. The bracing cold is an utter relief after the
writhing heat of the dance floor, and though I chafe my arms against the chill, I welcome the brisk air filling my lungs.
I hate it when this happens, when I’ve been doing so well staying in the present – and then my waking nightmares rise up at the
most inopportune moments. I drag a hand through my hair, trying to clear my mind, to get myself back to that happy haze of a
little while ago. I haven’t wished for a drink since I was inseminated, but I wish I could have one now – just to help me escape, if
only for a moment.
As I stand in the cold, contemplating how long is too long to spend out here and distractedly wondering why I never seem to feel
the elements the way others do – the sound of clinking glass shatters the silence. I whip around, startling at the sudden sound.
I’m out behind the club, where there shouldn’t be anyone else present except perhaps a raccoon raiding the dumpster.
Yet as I watch, four shadowy figures emerge from the darkness. I know they’re shifters the moment I lay eyes on them – though
I”m not sure how. Each one of the rough, ragged looking men is twice my size, and I immediately turn for the door to the club. I
yank on the handle, once twice, then over and over again when it doesn’t open. It must be locked!
Annoyance wells up inside me – despite the morbid turn of my thoughts, this night had been the break I needed from my new,
surreal reality. Since we came out I haven’t thought about wolves, shifters, Sinclair or the campaign even once. I finally felt like I

was clearing my mind of all the chaos, but now that’s all gone to hell. I can’t very well ignore this.
“What do you want?” I demand, trying to sound braver than I feel. “If it’s money, I’ll give it to you, but you should know Alpha
Dominic is my mate.”
The man nearest me laughs, a cruel, humorless sound. “You think we don’t know that?” He scoffs.
“That’s why we’re here.” The second shifter states, as if this should be obvious.”
“Then you also know I’m pregnant.” I add, praying that this might provoke some semblance of mercy from them. They simply
laugh again, and I add, “if you lay a hand on me, he’ll kill you.” I threaten, sensing in my heart that this is true, even though he’s
never told me any such thing.
“That assumes he can find us.” The first man, clearly their leader, proclaims.
“And trust me, he won’t.” His side-kick contributes.
“Who sent you?” I scramble for any lifeline to help myself, to delay them long enough for me to find a way to escape. I’m
scanning the alley behind them, but they’re blocking every possible exit. “What are they paying you? I’ll double the fee whatever
it is.”
The man scoffs, “We’re not here for money, you dumb bitch.”
“Then what?” I demand, “a cause?”
The first shifter lashes out so quickly and suddenly I don’t even see him moving. He backhands me across the face, his knuckles
exploding against my cheekbone with a violent crack. I tumble to the ground, even as he looms above me. “Shut the fuck up.”
The coppery tang of blood fills my mouth, and I spit the viscous, crimson liquid into the snow. The world is spinning around me.
When I look up at my attackers, they seem to multiply, looking like eight men instead of four.