I'm gripping my sister's hand, gritting my teeth and groaning through my first pushes when the door bangs open again. I don't open my eyes—I can't look. Quite frankly, at this moment, I don't care who it is—Hank, Roger, or insurgents—all I care about is the horrible, tearing pain as I work to bring my baby into the world. I moan, throwing my head back against the pillows as I pant, feeling the pain subside slightly.

"How is she?" Hank asks.

I open my eyes to see him beside me. I try to smile, failing a bit.

"Hello, Ella," he says softly, his voice warmer than usual. "You look like you're doing great."

I murmur my thanks as he turns his attention to Cora, getting a report. I shift my gaze to Roger, standing awkwardly across the room.

"Roger," I say, extending my hand.

"Hello, Ella!" he calls awkwardly. "Happy happy birth. Or whatever."

Sinclair chuckles quietly.

"Come over, Roger," he demands. Roger sighs, hangs his head, and avoids looking at me as he joins his brother.

"More of a 'cigars in the waiting room' kind of guy?" Sinclair asks.

"Yeah," Roger agrees, glaring slightly. "That's much more my vibe."

"I wanted you here," I say, giving him a tired smile. "I want you to meet the baby."

"Of course I want to meet the baby, Ella," Roger says, his voice kinder as he meets my gaze. "Just when you've cleaned it up a bit. Gotten some of the goop off."

I laugh, but groan as the pain returns. Cora climbs onto the bed, cursing the lack of stirrups and the soft mattress.

Roger muffles a groan as he turns away, perversely making me want to laugh in this painful moment. Hank quickly takes Cora's place, Sinclair standing firm beside my head.

"You've moved quite quickly through this, Ella," Hank informs me as the contraction ends. "This is rare, even for a wolf birth, but you should be in the final stages now." He pats my knee, offering an encouraging smile.

I smile back, noting Cora rolling her eyes. I have no idea what that means—is there trouble in paradise?—but any interest is obliterated by the returning pain.

This continues: huffing, pushing with all my might during contractions, then resting between them. I can feel my baby moving. It's hard, agonizing work, but my sister encourages me, and my mate is by my side, holding me together.

After what feels like forever, Cora gasps.

"Okay, he's almost here!" she says, her cheer a balm.

I look at her hopefully; she nods happily. "One big push, sis, and his head will be born, then it's easy!"

I take a deep breath, looking excitedly at Sinclair. I wait for the next contraction and, when Cora tells me to, I push—as hard as I can, yelling to help me push through.

"Oh, his little head!" Cora says, smiling. "He's here, Ella! Just a couple more to bring forward his body!"

I nod, eager, and push again. I gasp, panting as the contraction ends, looking to Cora for instructions. Instead of a happy smile, she exchanges a strange glance with Hank.

"What?" I demand, sitting up and moaning in pain. "What's wrong? Where's my baby? Is something wrong?"

Sinclair asks, suddenly tense. His voice shows his struggle to remain still, to let the doctors work. Inaction has never been his strong suit. My mate wants to be involved.

Cora hesitates. "It's okay, Ella—he's almost born—but"

She and Hank hesitate, exchange glances, then look down at the baby. I struggle to sit up, but my sister shakes her head, pressing me back to the pillows.

"Please," I beg, eyes fixed on Sinclair. "Please, you have to tell us."

Cora sighs. Her face is worried. "Ella, he didn't make any progress in the past few pushes. Which is sometimes a sign that"

"There is some worry," Hank continues, "that because he's such a large baby, he could be stuck."

"Stuck?" I gasp, horrified.

Sinclair stiffens.

"It's common," Hank says hurriedly. "Lots of women experience this with large babies. It's called shoulder dystocia—we think his shoulder is trapped behind your pelvis."

"What?" I gasp, confused and worried. "What do we—"

"It's okay!" Cora says, her worried voice belying her words. "We're trained for this—"

My sister moves beside my head, puts a hand under my shoulder, pulling upwards. "Come on, Ella, you need to change your position before the next contraction—I'm going to move you on your side to shift your pelvis, and then—"

"Don't tell me—" I gasp, moving with her.

"Just do it."

I look into Sinclair's worried eyes, mirroring my own. I nod, letting him know it's okay, praying it's true. I send love to baby Rafe, but he doesn't respond. He's predictably distracted. I moan in pain as Cora shifts me onto my side and presses on my stomach above my pelvis when the next contraction starts.

"Good, Ella, keep going" Hank murmurs as I pant, push, and shout in pain.

Then, moments later, "No progress, Cora—I'm going to cut—"

"All right," Cora says shakily, my eyes squeezed shut. I hear Sinclair roar at the same moment I feel cold metal against me. His hand rips from mine; I don't know where he goes. The metal slices, eliciting a guttural scream.

But then, pressure is gone, my shoulders collapse, and the need to push disappears. I'm still in agony, but I blink and sit up as a baby's cry fills the room.

Rafe. Rafe is here.

I gasp, seeing him in Hank's bloody hands. I reach for him, but feel woozy and collapse back against the pillows before I can hold my child.

Dear readers, thank you for your support and love for Accidental Surrogate. Book 1 has ended at Chapter 292. Due to your enthusiasm, we're presenting new stories after Rafe's birth. Following the platform editor's suggestion, Book 2's content will be updated here, so you can continue reading.