Page 117 of Chained By the Alpha
“Nobody,” I lie, clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles turn white.
“Give me that damn phone,” he demands, reaching over.
“No!” I snap, surprising both of us with the ferocity in my voice. I shove the device back into my pocket, away from his prying eyes. The air between us crackles with tension, and for a moment, I’m not just his daughter; I’m a defiant she-wolf challenging the Alpha.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Remember where you are, Cleo. You have responsibilities now. I know that’s Zayn; if you need me to handle him, let me know. We can’t have him getting involved right now; I need him to back off.”
“Why?” I ask when Linda calls out. He glances down the hall and sighs.
“Not now, tomorrow. I’ll find a way to get you out of this. I just need you to play nice for now. Get some sleep. You’ll need it with tomorrow being your first shift,” my father says, his tone softer now. It does nothing to ease the stone in my gut.
“Thank you,” I mutter, climbing the staircase to my room.
Hours later, lying on my childhood bed, the moon spills its cold light through the window. Every shadow seems to whisper Zayn’s name, and every creak of the house echoes with the promise of another message. My skin tingles with the memory of his touch, the roughness of his calloused hands against my flesh, and the way he can ignite a fire within me with just a look.
Zayn has been blowing up my phone all night. I have ignored every call when a message comes through that makes my blood turn cold in my veins.
Zayn: I will wipe out every pack in the city before I allow you to marry him. If you do this and I have to come to stop your wedding, I will make sure I paint your wedding dress red with your fiancé’s blood. You’ve been warned, Cleo. You are mine and only mine.
I gulp. Something about reading his words feels more threatening than if he said it to me, maybe because it’s so late at night, and he is still raging over it.
Chapter 23
• Zayn •
A couple of hours earlier
The incessant tapping of my fingers on the mahogany desk can’t drown out the chaos in my head. Nightshade City looms outside my office window, a concrete jungle under the cloak of dusk, indifferent to my turmoil. The report I was supposed to be reviewing blurs before my eyes, each word a taunt reminding me of Cleo’s absence.
Learning last night that her father was watching when I dropped her off, pissed me off. I didn’t think he was stupid enough to try anything with my guard keeping watch. I was wrong. He knocked him out, and God only knows what he told her to convince her to go back home with him.
“Vance,” I growl lowly, my voice a rumble that fills the spacious office, “any updates from the border patrols?”
“Quiet as the grave,” Vance replies without looking up from his own stack of paperwork. His dark hair is messy from running his hands through it in frustration—a mirror image of my restlessness, and I know my mood has him on edge.
“Good.” I sigh, pushing myself back into my chair. My wolf, Zarek, stirs within me, pacing relentlessly sensing my unease. I try to focus on the numbers and figures while my thoughts betray me, slipping to memories of her with her wildgreen eyes and that defiant tilt of her chin. Her laughter echoing in my mind feels like a knife twisting in my chest.
“Hey, turn that up, will you?” Vance’s voice cuts through my reverie as he nods toward the television mounted on the wall, which is muted.
I glance up, irritation flaring at the interruption. It dies as the screen fills with an image I know all too well—the Shadowcrest Pack insignia. The headline beneath sends a chill down my spine; ‘A Pack Engagement.’
“What the hell is this?” I spit out, standing so swiftly my chair topples over with a crash.
Vance finds and fumbles with the remote, raising the volume just in time for the poised newscaster to deliver the blow. “—and it seems the young heiress of the Shadowcrest Pack, Cleo, has returned to her father’s side to prepare for her upcoming engagement.”
“Engagement?” The word is like venom on my tongue. My vision goes red, a howl building deep within me.
“Zayn, calm down. We don’t know the full story.” Vance’s attempt to soothe me is futile.
“Full story?” I snarl, the sound more beast than man. “She left, and now she’s parading around, ready to bind herself to that sniveling worm?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. There has to be an explanation,” Vance says, though doubt laces his response.
“Explanation?” Fury thunders through me. “She’s made her choice, returning to that damned pack. To him.” My fists clench so tightly my knuckles whiten, the urge to shift and let Zarek loose almost overwhelming.
“Zayn, think this through. You know Cleo doesn’t want to marry Boyd,” Vance says, stepping closer with caution etched on his face.
The images flickering on the screen burn into my retinas—the headline screaming Cleo’s impending engagement. The sight of her standing beside him, her radiant smile mocking me from afar, is more than I can bear.
