Accidental Surrogate for Alpha-Chapter 160
Posted on February 17, 2025 · 1 mins read
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Chapter 16: Refugees

Ella

I knew it wouldn't be easy. I expected grieving widows, wounded warriors, and heartbroken families. I expected gruesome injuries and desolate faces; I expected to hold weeping hands. I wasn't prepared for the orphans, or for the parents who'd lost their children.

When we entered the main tent, the refugees were initially absorbed in their own worlds, but that quickly changed. As soon as they realized the Vanaran King, Henry, Roger, and I were present, they surged forward, eagerly gathering around. I'm not sure why it surprised me, but they seemed even more thrilled to see me than the others. A blush crept onto my cheeks as they cried out my name. "It's Ella! It's our Luna!" More than one wolf threw their arms around me, and despite their suffering, they only expressed concern for Sinclair and me. "We're so glad you're all right. Is Alpha Dominic—"

"He's safe," I assured them, raising my voice to be heard above the clamor. "He's in the capital, bolstering the war effort. He would have come, but he's focused on planning and forging alliances. He's determined to reclaim the continent from Damon before anyone else is harmed… but it's slow going."

Murmurs of understanding rippled through the crowd, and I was ushered to a seat in the center. A hollow-eyed woman cleared a space on her cot for me, ignoring my protests. Soon, I was seated in a large circle of shifters gathered on the floor and cots. They seemed eager to hear about our escape, but I couldn't allow that to be the focus.

"Dominic and I escaped early, as the Royal Army was at our doorstep. We know little of what's happening at home beyond the few videos that have bypassed the media blockade. What we need most is to hear from you. We need to know how the pack is faring, and how we can help you feel at home here. Your stories will help us understand the situation on the ground so we can fight back effectively."

The refugees exchanged mournful glances before beginning to speak, one by one. Over the next few hours, I heard countless stories of tragic loss, violation, and abuse. I listened intently, fighting back tears, determined not to break down. I thanked them for sharing, offered hugs, and made notes to help Gabriel find housing for everyone. I was proud of my composure—until we visited the tent housing orphans and unaccompanied children. My first impression was that it was far too quiet. Any place with children should be loud, messy, chaotic—full of the energy and playfulness of children.

Instead, I found a room full of pups who looked far older than their years. My heart ached.

The children ranged from infants to young teenagers, though most were younger. Unlike the adults, they seemed oblivious to our presence. Neglected toys lay scattered in the middle of the tent. Unable to make eye contact with a single child, I sat on the floor in front of a tower of blocks.

Gabriel, Henry, Roger, and Cora watched from the entrance with puzzled expressions. I began playing with the toys, building a tower, then grabbing dolls to stage a miniature fairy tale. I must have looked mad as I adopted silly, high-pitched voices and ridiculous dialogue, but soon a hesitant group of pups gathered around. I pretended not to notice at first, then paused. "If only I had someone to play the witch," I mused, tapping my finger to my lips.

"You could use this one," a small voice whispered, offering a third doll.

"Excellent idea," I agreed, concealing my pleasure. "But I only have two hands… could you help?"

The little girl hesitated. "I don't know the story."

"That's okay," I said. "We can make up our own. Sometimes that's best when things don't go as planned."

She remained hesitant, so I bounced a doll toward her, pointing it at the offered doll. "Hmm, are you a good witch or a bad witch?" I asked in the doll's silly voice.

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. Dropping her voice to a lower octave, she said, "I'm a bad witch, of course, mwahaha."

I raised my doll's hands. "Aaaahhhhh, it's a witch! It's a witch! What do we do? Somebody help!"

A little boy stepped forward, grabbing a fourth doll. "Don't worry, I'll save you!" I grinned. Little by little, the other children joined our make-believe game, until they were so engrossed that I could step back and observe with the others.

Tears welled in my eyes, but they were tears not of sadness, but of cold fury. I was so enraged by the man who'd caused these children so much pain that my wolf was indulging in gruesome fantasies of her own. Lost in my wrath, I almost didn't notice a pale woman near the edge of the play area. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her arms were wrapped tightly around her body. She watched the children with such longing and heartbreak that my stomach churned. I suspected I knew her story, and I cautiously approached.

"What's your name?" I asked gently.

So absorbed in the children's game, her eyes snapped to me in surprise, then dropped to my rounded belly almost as quickly. Something hardened within her, and she barely mumbled, "Isabel."

"I'm sorry we meet under these circumstances, Isabel," I replied softly. "I'm Ella."

"I know who you are," she answered, giving me another sullen glance.

I considered sharing my story about nearly losing Rafe, but decided my happy ending might only highlight her misfortune. Instead, I nodded toward the pups. "These little ones need more than the volunteers can provide—more than shelter and food," I sighed, letting my concern and sadness show. "They need what they lost—love and nurturing, a parent's protection." I watched Isabel closely as grief deepened in her eyes. "I wonder if you might be interested in helping…"

Her eyes widened, but a grudging expression remained. "We could arrange a salary for you—"

"I don't need to be paid to care for orphaned pups," she snapped, offended. I shrugged. "You may not want it now, but you might need the funds later. We can set it aside for a rainy day."

She gave a noncommittal shrug, then looked back at the pups, her longing now tinged with hope.

"Go on," I encouraged. "Whether you see it as a job or not, don't let your love go to waste. You have it to give, and they need it."

Isabel's lower lip trembled, and she stepped forward uncertainly. I sensed her desperate longing and subtly nudged her forward with my nascent abilities. She paused, casting a final glance over her shoulder. "I know what you're doing, you know."

"Then you know there's nothing to fear in accepting," I replied, unfazed by her scowl. I knew the anger and jealousy childless women can feel, and I could only imagine the deeper resentment of a mother who'd lost a child.

Yet, as I watched the childless mother join the circle of little ones, her demeanor transforming as she introduced herself, I felt a profound sense of rightness.

When Henry approached, I had only one thought.

"Dominic needs to see this. He needs to meet these people and hear their stories himself. I'll never do them justice."

"I agree," Henry murmured. "Though I doubt you'll easily convince him."

I squared my shoulders, determination surging through me. "Just watch me."