Chained By the Alpha (Cleo and Zayn) novel Chapter 12

• Cleo •

I wake to soft light filtering through the curtains. His steady breathing beside me is comforting, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. The warmth of his body seeps into mine.

For a brief, precious moment, the world outside this room doesn’t exist—no looming threats, no iron grip of my father’s expectations. Just me and Zayn. I let myself sink into the illusion of serenity, nestled against him, the Alpha whose presence promises protection and stirs something deep and aching inside me.

Reality claws at the edges of my peace, reminding me I can’t stay hidden here. As much as I crave this escape, I know I have to leave. The weight of my responsibilities— and my father’s wrath if he finds out where I’ve been—pull me back.

I shift carefully, not wanting to wake him. My gaze lingers on the sharp lines of his face, softened in sleep. His dark hair falls messily over his forehead, and I trace the arc of his brow with my eyes, trying to commit it to memory. His gray eyes, now hidden, twitch beneath long lashes. I wonder what dreams haunt him when his brow furrows like that.

As much as I like Zayn, I barely know him. Right now, I’m every serial killer’s dream—trusting blindly. Yet with Zayn, it feels like home. I don’t know if it’s the sire bond or if I’m starting to fall for him. He’s nothing like the ruthless Alpha people make him out to be. He’s nothing like Deacon.

Deacon would’ve never stood up to my father. He never came to check on me unless I begged for it. I chased him. Not once did he chase me. Zayn, though… Zayn is ready to start a war. Over me.

With a quiet sigh, I slip from beneath the covers. My feet hit the cold floor as I sit on the edge of the bed, grounding myself in the uncomfortable truth—I’m going to be in deep trouble. The warmth of Zayn’s body still clings to me, and I hold onto it like armor.

I’ll need it.

“You’re up early,” Zayn murmurs, voice husky as his fingers curl around my wrist. He shifts beside me, gray eyes slowly opening, catching me in their hold. He pats the bed, tugging the covers back invitingly.

“Don’t make me drag you back. I wasn’t done cuddling you,” he teases, lips twitching with a sleepy smile.

“I need to get to school,” I say, already bracing for the day ahead.

His eyes flash black for a heartbeat. “You need to get your butt back in bed.” I raise an eyebrow at his playful tone.

“Ten minutes,” I bargain. “Then you need to run me back to my dorm.”

I move to lie back down, but he grabs me, yanking me under the blanket and trapping me there.

“Stay,” he whispers. “You don’t have to leave, Cleo.”

He brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear with heartbreaking tenderness. Then his lips find mine, and I melt into the kiss, lost in the taste and feel of him. Zayn. Just Zayn.

However, the outside world creeps back in. The weight of what’s waiting out there presses against my chest.

“I can’t,” I whisper against his lips.

His brow furrows as he pulls back to study me. “Why not?” he asks. “You’re nineteen, Cleo. Technically an adult. You don’t have to answer to your father.”

“An adult in human years,” I correct him. “In werewolf society, I’m still under his protection until I shift.”

“You don’t need his protection. You have me.” His thumb brushes my cheek.

“The silence from him… it’s the calm before the storm. You know it.”

Zayn’s arm tightens around me, his aura flaring. It rushes out so suddenly it steals the breath from my lungs. I gasp. He startles, pulling it back instantly.

“Shit,” I mutter, shaking my head. I know he didn’t mean to lose control.

He sighs—a deep rumble of frustration—and sits up in one smooth motion. His arms close around me again, and I know the feelings I have aren’t one-sided.

“Let me worry about your father,” he growls softly. “I can handle him.”

His gray eyes lock with mine, burning with conviction. And as much as I want to believe him, to take comfort in that promise, I can’t. Because if I do, we risk everything.

Reluctantly, I pull away from his warmth, the cool air kissing my skin where his touch lingers.

“I have to go back to college, Zayn,” I say, sliding out of bed and wrapping myself in the thin barrier of a sheet. My heart races as I meet his silver gaze. “I won’t risk my pack.”

“What risk, Cleo?”

I purse my lips. “What if my father declares war?”

“Then he’s more stupid than he looks. I’d annihilate his pack—probably singlehandedly. Sorry, your pack is kind of small,” Zayn chuckles.

“Exactly. He would declare war. He was already willing to risk us by refusing your protection. If he does it again, my pack will follow him… and they’ll get hurt.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This is such a mess.

Zayn watches me silently, eyes tracking my every move like a predator. Instead of acting, he leans back against the headboard, his dark hair tousled, a raw edge in his expression like he’s fighting some internal war.

“I don’t like you being away from me,” he says, voice rough.

“You say that like I’m your only friend.”

“If I say you are, will you stay?”

I roll my eyes and start looking for my clothes.

As I dress, I can feel the weight of his gaze, heat building with every layer I pull on.

I pause, glancing over my shoulder—my resolve falters for a second.

“Zayn…” I start, needing him to drive me or I’ll miss my first class. It’s clear he doesn’t want me to go. “Please. I need to get to school.”

“Fine. Since I’m not allowed to kidnap you, I’ll drive you back—” I smile. Then he adds, “For now. Your father keeps getting under my skin. I may not give you back next time.”

“And you said you weren’t a serial killer. I’m supposed to trust you?”

“I never said anything about killing you. I just wouldn’t give you back. I’d keep you all to myself.” He laughs, grabbing jeans and a black shirt.

We head downstairs. He grabs his keys—and my hand—and leads me out to his car. The ride is quiet. Neither of us wants to disturb what little peace remains between us.

When the engine stops outside my dorm, the world feels distant, and gray compared to the intensity inside the car. Zayn pulls me into him, kissing me with a heat that ignites something fierce between us.

“I’ll call you,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of parting.

“You better,” I reply, the taste of him still on my tongue. I don’t want to leave.

He brushes a thumb across my cheek. “When will you start working for me?”

“You’ll still protect the borders even after everything with my father?”

“If it means seeing you, then yes.”

I press my forehead to his. “I’ll check my class schedule. I might drop one or two.” The words are tight in my throat. I know what I’m risking. But once I’m Alpha, I’ll be able to form treaties without my father’s permission. This will have to do—for now.

“I need to go,” I whisper, even though my whole body protests.

“Wait,” he says, catching my hand. “Call me after class. We’ll get dinner.”

“Zayn… we’ll get caught.”

“I’ll pick you up,” he grins, wicked and unbothered.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. Sneaking out last night was reckless. Doing it again tonight? Probably stupid.

I climb out of the car and slip into the dorm building. The halls are quiet— students still asleep or just waking up. No one sees me.

I reach my room. The key turns in the lock with a soft click, the moment the door opens, a cold aura hits me like a slap. The energy is sharp. Angry.

My eyes lock onto the bed.

There he is.

My father.

Sitting like a judge, carved in stone. His jaw clenched, eyes thunderous.

“Dad…” My voice is a breath, tight with dread.

“Quiet, Cleo.” His tone is sharp, final. Any protest I had withers on my tongue.

Two enforcers stand behind him—still as statues, their presence unmistakable. Dangerous.

They turn toward the window, pretending not to see what’s about to happen. I take an involuntary step back, the room feeling too small, too loud with silence.

“When Lydia told me you were seeing Zayn, I hoped she was wrong—especially after the shitstorm he caused at the council meeting, staking claim to you.”

It’s not that I go looking for trouble. Trouble just has a way of finding me. Especially when its name is Lydia.

“Watch your step,” one enforcer mutters as a student darts in front of me, nearly knocking into my shoulder. He’s alert, eyes scanning the hall, his words barely register past the curses looping through my mind over my father’s latest punishment.

My gaze flicks through the crowd—faces blending together, whispers brushing past me like static. They see the enforcers, see me, and their curiosity is already twisting into gossip.

“About time.”

The voice slices through the noise, sharp and familiar. Lydia leans against Maya’s dorm door, arms crossed, smirk curled like a blade. She lives for this—power plays, public humiliation. Her favorite sport.

“Lydia,” I greet, flat and disinterested.

She pushes off the door and struts toward me, heels clicking like a countdown. Students part instinctively, creating a tense circle around us.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my voice level.

“You know perfectly well why I’m here.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Enlighten me.”

“I see your father finally realized his little princess isn’t safe roaming around alone. About time he put you in your place.”

The enforcers beside me tense, silent and alert. Lydia’s smirk deepens.

“I wouldn’t be under guard if you hadn’t been running your mouth,” I snap. “What have I ever done to you?”

She leans in, her perfume cloying. “You should’ve thought about that before choosing Zayn over Deacon.”

“I didn’t choose anyone,” I say, voice sharp. “And what I do is none of your business.”

“Oh, but it is,” she shoots back. “When it affects the pack, it’s everyone’s business.”

“Then maybe worry about your own mess. The only thing you’re good at is draining pack funds.”

We’re nose to nose now, the tension crackling. My pulse races. Lydia’s always known how to bait me—but today, she’s pushing harder.

“I’m trying to protect you from making a mistake with that mongrel,” she snarls. “God only knows what he did to Deacon, and you’re defending him?”

I grit my teeth. “Not this again. I don’t know where Deacon is. Wherever he is, he’s not looking for me—or you.” Her eyes flash with fury.

“Hey,” Maya cuts in, voice soft. “Let’s all take a breath—”

Lydia’s already pointing at me. “You were the last one seen with him. And now you’re covering for Zayn. He followed Deacon out that night.”

“Bullshit,” I snap. “We checked the tapes. If you’re so worried, go find him. I’m done with this drama.”

I turn to leave, when her voice stops me cold.

“How dare you! You call me dramatic? You started a pack war! You’re just like your whore mother—always stirring trouble!” The word hits me like a slap.

My vision goes red. Everything else fades—students, walls, even the enforcers. All I see is her. The smug look. The venom behind her words.

A snarl rips from my throat.

I lunge.

My hand tangles in her hair, yanking her forward until our faces are inches apart. Her eyes widen in panic, but I don’t care.

“You don’t get to talk about my mother,” I hiss, low and shaking.

“Let go of me!” Lydia screeches, trying to wriggle free.

The enforcers freeze, unsure what to do. Maya gasps behind me.

My other hand clenches into a fist.

Lydia’s scream barely registers as I slam her forward. Her face connects with the brick wall, the impact sickening.