Page 56 of Taming the Alpha's Daughter

“That's the screen door,” Malik blurts.

My heart begins to echo, its rapid drumming against the hollow of my chest. Every fiber of my being screams alertness, a primal response coming from Zyan as he presses beneath my skin.

Barely conscious, I find myself bounding out of bed. The traces of slumber fall away rapidly, replaced by a raw and angry rage. My senses are sharper; my muscles coil tighter, and an untamed energy courses through me like lightning. I'm awake and just in time to see the front door convulse under the force of an unexpected blow. Time bends around me, morphing into a living entity stretching out every nanosecond, magnifying the fury within me.

My brother. My adversary. Vince. He is an unsteady silhouette swaying in the dimness of the porch light; he peers in the window. “Open the door, Casen!” I watch his silhouette swig from his bottle.

“I'm here to get my daughter,” he slurs, the words slinking into the room like uninvited and angry.

I storm through the living room, where Vince is stumbling around and shouting obscenities while banging on the wooden door.

I take a deep breath and make my way towards the front door. Images of Vince's drunken outbursts when we were younger flash through my mind as I approach the door, but I push them aside. Right now, I have to focus on getting him to leave.

When I swing the door open, I'm greeted by a disheveled and clearly intoxicated Vince. His eyes are red and bloodshot, and his breath reeks of alcohol. “What do you want?” I ask him sternly.

Vince sways on his feet before slurring out a response. “Where is she?” he snarls, his voice low and gritty. I tighten my fists, struggling to remain calm under the pressure of Vince's aggression because I don't want Casey woken.

“She's asleep,” I reply curtly. “Now, it's late, and you're not in a good state. I suggest you go home.” He takes another stumbling step forward, and I can feel Zyan pulse through my veins as my temper flares up in response.

Suddenly, Vince reaches out and attempts to push me aside. Instinctively, I grab his arm and throw him back onto the porch with ease before slamming the door shut behind me. Only a second later, he boots the door, which flings inward and slams harshly against the wall.

He takes a step closer to me, the smell of alcohol radiating off his skin.

Bitter rage swells within me, a churning vortex threatening to consume my restraint. “You're drunk, and tomorrow you can fix that damn door. Go home, Vince,” I command, stepping into his path, an unmovable wall of defiance. The sour reek of alcohol wafts off him, an unwelcome scent when first waking up.

His clouded gaze attempts to look past me, seeking something or someone beyond my shoulder. “Where's Casey? Give her to me,” he spits again, his voice echoing with an unearned sense of entitlement.

Adrenaline surges through me, ramping up my protective instincts. “He's not taking her,” Zyan snarls in my head. Well, that much is clear. I feel like a fortress shielding my loved ones from a storm. “My daughter is asleep. Rose will collect her when she's ready,” I declare, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Do you think you can just waltz back here and reclaim everything you lost?”

Vince’s laugh, a hollow, mocking sound, ricochets off the walls, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “Go home, Vince. It’s late. You'll wake Casey,” I warn, my gaze flitting around behind him, searching for Rose. I only encounter shadows and a prickle of unease that snakes down my spine.

“Where is Rose anyway?” I ask.

His gaze snaps to me as I move to force him back, but he lunges toward me with a bottle in his hand. I step back, dodging his hand as he tries to hit me in the head with it.

“What the hell, Vince?” I demand. “You can't just barge in here like this! And where's Rose?”

Vince smirks at me, his eyes glazed and bloodshot. “Oh, she's fine,” he slurs. “Just sleeping like a little angel.”

I feel my fists clenching as I take in his words. What the hell had he done to our mate?

“Get out. Come see me tomorrow,” I snap, advancing on him. Vince staggers backward, tripping over a rug and crashing to the floor.

“Fuck you, Casen,” he spits, struggling to stand up. “You don't know what it was like, watching you be happy with her for all those years.”

My blood runs cold at his words.

“Where is she?” I snarl, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Vince just laughs, his breath hot and sour against my face.

“As I said, she is taking a nap,” he chuckles. I feel a surge of rage course through me as I hear his words. With a primal roar, I headbutt him, feeling bone crunch beneath the force of my head connecting with his nose.

Vince collapses back onto the floor with a groan, blood pouring from his nose and mouth.

“Where is Rose, Vince?” I snarl.

The answer doesn’t come from him. Instead, he lurches forward, drunkenly flailing a fist in my direction. His attack is clumsy, slow from the alcohol, and I smoothly sidestep his lunge, shoving him back out the door. He swings and misses.

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