Page 41 of Chained By the Alpha
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I chide gently. “We need more information before we can form any theories.”
“Right,” she agrees, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
“Let’s check his place,” I suggest. However, the uncertainty is eating away at me.
“Fine, let’s go,” Lydia nods frantically and pushes me toward the door.
As we head outside to my car, I wonder what’s gotten into her. I know she’s always had a thing for Deacon, yet her sudden surge of concern seems… intense.
“Where are my father and Linda?” I ask as we make our way to the car. She looks at me briefly before answering, “He went to speak with Alpha Dane, they’re discussing some pack business.”
“Pack business? What kind of pack business?” I press, feeling uneasy. Something tells me there’s more to it than that.
“Something about alliances, who cares, Deacon is missing,” she snaps, ripping my car door open. I pause in the driveway with a shudder. Alliances with Alpha Dane... My father wouldn’t agree to a marriage alliance without my consent, would he?
Shaking the thought from my head, I open the car door. “Cleo, hurry up. Who cares where they are! It’s nothing for you to worry about,” she dismisses with a wave.
“Let’s just focus on finding Deacon right now.”
“Fine,” I sigh, knowing it’s pointless arguing with her. We drive in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I can feel thetension between us, thick and palpable, like a fog that refuses to lift.
As we drive, my mind races with possibilities, my fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel, and I sneak glances at Lydia. She’s always been so composed, so calculating in her moves. Now? She is a storm of emotions, barely contained beneath the surface. I’d known for years she had feelings for Deacon, it still stings to see her so invested in his well-being.
“Did Deacon say anything to you about where he was going last night?” I inquire, hoping for a lead to Deacon’s whereabouts.
She turns in her seat to look at me.
“Why don’t you know where he is, Cleo? Weren’t you with him last night?”
I’m taken aback by her abrupt shift from worry to anger. “No, Lydia, I wasn’t with Deacon. Deacon ditched me! What’s going on with you?”
“Ditched you? I saw him leave with you!” she snarls, and confusion washes over me. What does she even mean by that? She’s delusional.
Her face contorts in anger. “Then where were you, I saw him leave with you? And why can’t we find him?”
“I’m not arguing over Deacon with you, it’s none of your business where I was,” I growl at her and Lydia mutters something under her breath.
As her accusations hang in the air, I start to piece things together. Lydia’s overreaction, her intense worry—it’s more personal than it should be. She’s hiding something. I can’t dwell on that now. Deacon is missing, and that’s what matters.
Pulling onto Deacon’s street, Lydia’s agitation seems to grow with each passing second. Lydia’s clenched jaw and furrowed brow, her tapping fingers and restless movements, allcontribute to the image of a person on the brink of panic. Her eyes scan the familiar street, searching for any sign of Deacon.
We stop out the front of his house, but his car is not there, which makes worry gnaw at me further. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to remain calm.
We step out of the car and approach the front door, my heart pounding in my chest. Lydia reaches out to ring the doorbell, her hand trembling slightly. I can see the fear in her eyes, the desperation to find any trace of him. The seconds stretch into eternity as we wait for someone to answer the door. There’s no response.
We exchange a nervous glance before Lydia takes a step back, peering in through the windows. The curtains are drawn shut, so we are unable to see anything beyond them.
We are about to leave when I remember the spare key he always kept outside.
“The spare key,” I blurt out. “Deacon always keeps a spare key under the doormat.”
Without wasting another moment, I rush over and lift the doormat, revealing the small silver key hidden beneath, letting out a breath of relief. I glance at Lydia, who waves her hands at me before shoving me out of the way. She snatches the key and jams it in the lock.
The door creaks open, revealing a dimly lit hallway, and all the lights are off.
The house is silent, and a chill runs through me as we step cautiously inside. It’s as if time has stopped, the air heavy with anticipation. We make our way through the familiar rooms, searching for any clue that might lead us to Deacon.
Lydia’s footsteps echo behind me, her breathing shallow and uneven. I can sense her desperation growing with each passing second, matching my own mounting fear. The house feels empty, void of any signs of life. Where is he?
