Chained By the Alpha (Cleo and Zayn) novel Chapter 16

• Cleo •

Morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Yesterday is now a haunting memory I wish wasn’t mine. I’m uncomfortably aware of the pulsing sensation on my neck—the mark Zayn branded into my skin. It’s both a declaration and a binding, like a ring etched with fangs instead of diamonds. My fingertips graze the tender spot, and a shiver runs through me, not from pain but from the depth of what it represents.

Turning my head to the side, Zayn is not in bed, making me wonder where he is, however my mind is also stuck on yesterday. How my entire life was turned upside down and now I have no idea what I’m doing.

Sitting up against the mountain of pillows. The thoughts in my head are a jumbled mix of anxiety and excitement, each one colliding with the others like atoms gone wild.

For once I have no obligations or restrictions, yet at the same time, I have no idea what to do with this weird freedom. Is the pulsing of my neck truly freedom or just another cage?

One I willingly climbed into.

I swing my legs off the bed and pad across the floor, catching my reflection in the full-length mirror. Dark blonde hair tousled, deep green eyes staring back at me with an intensity I hardly recognize anymore.

“Morning,” Zayn’s deep voice rumbles from the doorway, his eyes taking in the sight of me with an intensity that ignites my skin.

“Morning.” I’m acutely aware of the power I hold over him now. If I reject him, he’ll be weakened, vulnerable. The thought makes my stomach churn.

I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, his muscular build outlined by the soft light, dark chocolate locks framing a face that could make angels sin. His eyes hold a glint of silver as they meet mine.

“Are you just going to stare at yourself all morning?” Zayn’s voice cuts through my reverie, low and laced with amusement.

“Maybe,” I retort playfully, and my heart skips a beat. “There’s a lot to take in.”

“Come here,” he says.

I cross the room to where he stands. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the mark on my neck with tenderness. A sigh escapes me, a sound of surrender that feels right at this moment.

“Zayn…” My voice is a breathy whisper as the countless emotions swirling within hunts for an outlet.

“Shh,” he hushes gently, pulling me close. “I know. It’s a lot. You’re safe here, Cleo. Just let things happen naturally.”

His lips find mine, and the world narrows down to the point of contact between us. The kiss deepens, sparking a fire that threatens to consume me, fueled by the raw energy of this one-sided bond. Yet I still can feel him, the sensation is odd, unnatural to me. I struggle to differentiate my emotions from his like they bleed into each other. It’s just a trickle since I haven’t marked him, but odd all the same.

“Zayn,” I murmur against his mouth, “what if…”

“Whatever you’re worrying about, it can wait,” he assures me before capturing my lips once more.

The fears linger, shadows at the edge of the bright flame we’ve kindled. What have we done? What does the future hold?

“Let’s not think about that now,” Zayn whispers, sensing my inner turmoil, his hands roaming over my body in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. Eventually, he pulls away, leaving me breathless. “Get dressed. I have pack members downstairs.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask him and he shrugs.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Just pack fears; word travels fast so I now have a house full of curious pack members; well, the ones who help run the pack with me.” I nod and get dressed before we head downstairs together, the atmosphere in the packhouse is charged with tension. The air is thick with whispered conversations that die down as we enter.

“Zayn,” Vance approaches with a heavy sigh, though his concern is etched into his features, “the pack… they’re nervous.”

I can feel their eyes on us as we enter the huge living room. Whispers slither through the room, coating my skin like frost as I take in all the people. There are about a dozen who must be Zayn’s community council; each pack has one, so it isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with. I am just shocked seeing them all here. My father never allowed pack members to freely come and go from the house. Which defeats the purpose of a pack house; it’s supposed to be communal, a safe place for pack members. It’s good to see Zayn’s pack has held onto older traditions that aren’t used much in today’s society where we have technology.

“Alpha Samuel has declared war,” one voice rises above the rest, laced with fear.

“Joseph, too,” another confirms, casting a wary glance my way.

“Are we to be strengthened by this union or torn apart?” a female pack member questions, her eyes piercing into mine.

“Why hasn’t she marked him back?” another member mutters, not quite under his breath. The question hangs heavy in the air, and I feel the sting of judgment. Zayn sighs heavily, like this wasn’t how he planned his morning.

“Settle, you’re panicking for no reason! So enough. It’s too early in the morning for this kind of headache.” Zayn’s command slices through the murmurs, and silence falls like a guillotine. “Cleo’s choice to mark me, Stanley, is hers alone, and it will not be questioned.”

He turns to me, his gray eyes softening. However, with every conflicted gaze that meets mine, I understand the gravity of our situation, the precariousness of a balance tipped by him marking me and the war that seems to be brewing.

Zayn stands watching them debate and argue in his living room like this is a normal thing. He is calm in the storm. He addresses his pack, his voice resonant and firm. “Alpha Greyson has offered his support. We’re not alone in this.”

“Support is one thing,” Stanley interjects, his brow furrowed. “What about our businesses? If we’re cut off from trade with other packs, we’ll suffer.”

I bite my lip, watching Zayn handle each worry with the grace of a true Alpha, yet still managing to dominate the room, too. I feel like an unwanted bystander listening to the mess I’ve made.

Needing to escape, I slip away, grabbing the keys to Zayn’s car, which he told me last night I could use. Needing to get my clothes and books, I head to campus, leaving Zayn to handle his pack. The college campus is quieter than usual, a contrast to the turmoil back home. As I insert my key into the dorm door, it refuses to turn. A cold knot forms in my gut. I try again before huffing, knowing I will need to check with the administration. Wandering down to the front of campus, I pass a few classes, and I’m thankful most are in class. I don’t think I could handle their glares today. Entering the front office, I close the door gently.

“Miss Carter?” The administrator at the desk looks up, pity etched into her features. “Hey, Samantha, my key isn’t working,” I tell her, holding it up. She bites her lip nervously. Glancing down at her computer, she pushes her glasses up her nose and slides one of her fiery red locks behind her ear as she types my name into the system.

Her brows furrow before she glances up at me, where I stand. “I’m sorry, but your tuition has been canceled. Your enrollment… you’re no longer a student here.”

“By who?” My voice comes out sharper than intended.

“Your father,” she replies, her gaze dropping. He cut my tuition. I knew he would, I just wasn’t expecting it to be done by the next day. What if I had nowhere to go? What would I have done? Does he truly hate me that much?

Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I storm out, heading to the car then slamming the car door behind me as I slump into the driver’s seat. How could he? My entire future is gone with a single decision; I stare at the campus office, trying to figure out what to do.

That’s when I notice my own car is missing from the parking lot. Panic flares up inside me like a wildfire. Everything is spiraling out of control. He’s even taken my car. I can’t even retrieve my belongings from my room.

“Hey.” Zayn’s sudden appearance beside the car startles me, concern etched across his handsome face as he opens my door, scaring the living daylights out of me. I clutch my chest in fright, wondering when he got here. Glancing at the clock on the dash, I realize I have been lost in my thoughts in the car for over an hour. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” I choke out, the walls I’ve built to contain my emotions crumbling down.

“Zayn, I have nothing left, he’s taken everything now and completely cut me off.” The weight of my world is heavy on my shoulders. “No school, no car… My own father…” I’m humiliated knowing I will have to ask for his help further now, because I don’t even have a place to go if Zayn gets bored with me or wants me gone.

“Shh,” he soothes, pulling me out of the car into his chest. His heartbeat is steady against my ear, a grounding rhythm in the chaos. “You have me.”

“Is that supposed to fix everything?” I retort, even as I cling to him, desperate for his soothing scent.

“Maybe not,” he admits. “But we’ll figure it out. Now get in,” he tells me, and I sigh. I slip into the passenger seat when I notice Vance’s car next to Zayn’s. Vance waves.

I nod back before Vance leans across the seat, Zane speaking to him a moment.

“Head back to the club,” I hear him tell Vance.

Vance gives us a curt nod and disappears, leaving us alone. As Zayn takes the driver’s seat, I stare out the window, feeling adrift in a life that’s suddenly unrecognizable. “I have nothing left,” I admit, the weight of my new reality pressing down on me. “No money, nowhere to live… I feel like such a burden to you.”

Zayn’s hand finds mine, his grip reassuring. “You’re not a burden, Cleo,” he says firmly. “If you want, you can come work for me or just stay at home until you figure out what you want to do. You have options.”

His words are meant to comfort, however all they do is remind me how completely my world has tipped on its axis. We drive in silence, the hum of the engine a soothing background sound to the chaos of my thoughts. Once back on pack territory, Zayn drives past the packhouse and pulls up at a massive oval field, dotted with figures moving in synchronized patterns—his pack training.

“I’ll be back,” he says, stepping out. “Just need to drop off this patrol roster for Andrea to give out.”

I nod as he climbs out of the car and heads to his pack. My gaze flits across the field where his pack spar and sprint, their forms a blur of power and grace. When Zayn returns, I can’t contain my curiosity.

“Why aren’t they training in the city?” I ask.

“Because I won’t risk exposing my pack to other packs right now,” he explains. “Not until things settle down.”

“Shouldn’t you be training with them?”

“You’re still getting comfortable with all of this, so we’ll train back home until you’re comfortable training with the rest of the pack.”

As we drive back to the packhouse, I’m acutely aware of the man beside me—his presence has been constant lately. His scent envelopes me, a mix of sandalwood and something that is uniquely Zayn, grounding me in the here and now.

“Thank you,” I murmur, unsure of how else to express the gratitude and tumultuous emotions churning within me.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies with a wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ve got a lot of training to do, and I won’t go easy on you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” I respond, the corners of my mouth lifting in spite of the situation.

The engine purrs to a stop and the world outside Zayn’s car fades as we pull into the packhouse grounds. The familiar sight of towering trees and a sprawling house greets me, but this time, it feels different. It’s not just a place I’m visiting; it’s my new home.

My heart thrums in my chest as Zayn leads me inside. The door shuts with a soft click behind me.

“Go get changed; Andrea dropped clothes over before I left to find you. They are in the walk-in closet.” Zayn’s voice is a calm command that somehow makes the chaos inside me still for a moment. I nod once and he wanders into the living room.

In the privacy of Zayn’s bedroom, I rifle through the clothes, my heart in my throat. The closet is filled with leggings, T-shirts, jeans, hoodies, and dresses. I change into the first thing I see, black leggings and a loose sweatshirt. A quick look in the mirror reveals I look like a mess, but I have much more significant problems right now.

Leaving the room, I find Zayn has moved all the furniture aside in the living room and has already changed out of his jeans and button-up and is in all his shirtless glory, abs rippling with muscles as he stretches like he just woke up looking sexy as hell for good measure.

My gaze trails over the ridges and valleys of his abs, and I’m caught—snared in the sight of him.

“Enjoying the view?” his voice rumbles, teasing and warm.

I roll my eyes, feigning indifference. “Seen better.”

“Sure you have,” he chuckles, stepping closer, pulling me into the cleared space.

“Let’s get started.”

“I’m shocked you are seriously going to make me train with you. After everything?” I ask, even though the heat of his body draws me in like iron to a magnet.

“Haven’t I been embarrassed enough? And now you want to hand my ass to me.”

“You can hold your own. And it’s about being prepared.” He grasps my wrists gently, his silver wolf eyes glinting. “And I need you prepared with everything going on.”

“Fine,” I concede, my pulse dancing as he keeps hold of me, guiding me through defensive stances. Each touch ignites sparks along my skin, each brush of his fingers against mine sends shivers up my spine.

“Good, now try to pin me,” he instructs, a playful edge in his tone.

“Like I could,” I scoff, but the challenge lights a fire within me. I’ve seen him fight three Alphas, yet he’s pretending I could actually cause him harm.

We move around each other, part combat, part me evading his reach. His body is a force of nature, and every move is precise and potent. He allows me close and lets me think I might have a chance. Our bodies collide, and I find it invigorating. He may have skill, but I’m a lot smaller and faster as I escape his grip and duck under his arm with a laugh. I kick the back of his knee, and he drops to one knee, and I pounce on him.

“Got you,” I pant as I manage to jump on his back. He laughs.

“Got me how?” he laughs, he only has to lean forward, and my feet no longer touch the ground. Reaching back, he grips my arm and a shriek leaves my lips as he rips me over his shoulder. The air leaves my lungs in a rush as I hit the foam mat.

“I got you,” he laughs. My breath hitches as I stare up into his eyes, molten gray.

“Seems you do,” I murmur. “Helps you have a lot more reach than me!”

“And heaps taller; I could wear you as a backpack,” he snickers. I glare up at him, and he pushes off the ground to stand when I turn, kicking his legs out from under him. He hits the ground hard, and I scramble to pin him while he stares at the ceiling, having the air knocked out of him.

“Fine, you aren’t short, you’re compact—You’re fun-size,” In one swift motion, he rolls, reversing our positions with an ease that leaves me breathless. Now pinned beneath him, I marvel at his agility, so at odds with his size. His eyes, gleaming with a playful glint, meet mine. “Seems the tiny predator has become the prey.”

I try to throw him off as he pins my hands above my head, his lips tugging in the corners as I struggle against him before I give up with a huff.

“See? Size does have its advantages. Height for reach and weight,” he shifts slightly, emphasizing his point without putting his full weight on me.

“Well, I thought you were supposed to be showing me how to defend myself, not showing me how utterly defenseless I am against someone your size?” I laugh and squirm beneath his weight.

His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto mine with a gaze that could command the moon. “You might think being smaller puts you at a disadvantage,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending a thrill through me. “Remember, you have the big bad wolf always ready to defend you.”

His smirk is a shadow, playing at the edges of his mouth, his eyes burn with a lethal promise. “Let them come for you,” he says, his voice low and cold.

“They’ll quickly learn I’m the last shadow they ever cross.”

My hands roam across the expanse of his chest, tracing the lines down his abs.

Zayn’s breathing grows ragged, matching the erratic beat of my heart.

“You’re really not helping my training here,” I say, my voice shaky, as I try to focus on the task at hand and not the sinful thoughts creeping into my mind.

“No?” he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I could always…” His lips brush against my ear, sending a shiver through me. His lips press below my ear gently, his lips grazing his mark on my neck; my back arches at the sensation it causes, like I can feel him everywhere at once as his lips travel along my jaw before meeting mine.

Our lips meet in a clash of passion, tongues fighting for dominance. He tastes like wildness and promises; I drink him in greedily. The room spins, and everything narrows down to the feel of his body pressed against mine, the sound of our mingled breaths.

My hands tremble with anticipation as they reach for the waistband of Zayn’s pants, my fingertips gently tugging at the fabric. But in an instant, his body freezes, and he pulls my hands away, his lips trailing down my neck. Confusion furrows my brow at his sudden rejection.

“What’s wrong?” I manage to pant out, my voice heavy with desire.

Zayn groans, his head resting on my shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “You’re barely a week away from your birthday, Cleo,” he breathes out, his voice filled with longing and restraint. “I’d rather wait until you’ve gotten your wolf.”

His words hang in the air, leaving me bewildered and hurt. He marked me and claimed me as his own, yet now he denies me? The conflicting emotions swirl within me, leaving me feeling like a mere pawn in some game I’m not privy to.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I ask, my voice trembling with frustration.

Zayn sits up, guilt etched across his face. He runs a hand through his tousled hair before meeting my gaze. “I told you this before, Cleo, not until you get your wolf,” he states, his voice filled with sincerity.

My heart sinks as the words leave his lips, and I try to hide how much they truly sting. The vulnerability in my voice betrays me as I stutter out my confusion. “I don’t understand,” I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. “You marked me…but won’t have me? What am I to you, then? Just a plaything when it suits you? A weapon against my father? None of this makes any sense. What has waiting for my wolf got to do with it when your mark is on my fucking neck!”

The room descends into a heavy silence, the weight of my accusations hanging in the air. Zayn watches me; his expression is unreadable, and he remains silent. Unable to find the right words, or maybe he doesn’t have any more excuses. Frustration and anger surge within me, and with a swift motion, I push him away and rise to my feet.

“Cleo!” Zayn pleads. But I refuse to listen. Instead, I head for the stairs before remembering I can’t escape him in his room, either. So, instead, I make my way toward one of the spare rooms, hoping to escape the embarrassment that engulfs us.

As I shut the door behind me, the hollowness of my heart echoes in the stillness. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision as I desperately try to make sense of it all.

Even at this moment, I can hear Zayn’s footsteps approaching, growing louder with each passing second. Panic grips me, pushing me to lock the door. The walls seem to close in around me as I struggle to catch my breath.

“Cleo,” he pleads again, his voice soft as he tries to turn the handle, finding the door locked. I remain silent, unwilling to expose myself to further disappointment.

His fist bangs lightly on the door, rattling the frame as he speaks through gritted teeth. “Cleo, I can explain.”

I don’t respond and close my eyes, trying to block out the world around me. Finally, after minutes pass, I hear his footsteps retreat, and I can breathe again. I collapse on the bed, curling into a ball as I tug the blankets up, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and get this day over with.

• • •

The next morning, sleep evades me, flashes of last night’s humiliation replaying in my mind. I need to get out of this room; I need a distraction. I quickly dress in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt before leaving the room. My bare feet pad quietly down the hallway as I make my way downstairs. In the kitchen, I find Zayn sipping a steaming cup of coffee, his eyes finding mine from down the hall where he sits at the island counter.

His silver orbs are filled with remorse, but it’s too late for apologies now. I don’t want to hear any excuses or half-hearted justifications. I just need space from him in this situation. His jaw clenches as he sees me fully dressed. “Cleo,” he says my name warningly, I ignore him and head straight for the front door, only to hear his chair scrape across the floor.

“Cleo, where do you think you’re going?” he demands, his voice authoritative as he catches up to me in the foyer.

“I’m going to look for work since I can’t go to school,” I say coldly, placing my bag over my shoulder with a resolute thud. “I can’t stay cooped up here all day.”

“Not until we talk,” he growls out, his hand wrapping around my wrist, stopping me dead in my tracks.

I whirl around to face him and meet his gaze head-on. “There’s nothing to talk about, Zayn! You made your feelings crystal clear yesterday!” Anger laces my words, my green eyes blazing with unshed tears.

“You’re not going alone,” he growls out, his jaw flexing as he stares me down, challenging me to defy him further. And while a part of me wants to push him, the other part of me knows I’m no match for him until I get my wolf. So, I know I have no choice as he tightens his grip on my wrist. He leads me back to the kitchen and motions for me to sit. “I am at war with nearly every damn pack in this city because of you right now. You can’t just wander off and leave the damn pack!”

“I’m sorry about yesterday, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, but I have made it clear, Cleo, I won’t mate you until you get your wolf—” he starts, and I cut him off.

“It’s fine, Zayn. I don’t want to hear any more excuses; it’s fine, I get it,” I lie through gritted teeth, forcing a fake smile on my face. I don’t get this man at all!

He narrows his silver eyes in disbelief yet he doesn’t press further as he finishes his coffee in one gulp and places the mug in the sink. “Put on a jacket, it’s cold outside, and we’re leaving.”

“We?” I ask hesitantly, looking at him suspiciously.

“We are going together; you want to work, you can work with me, until this shit is settled with your father and the other Alphas, I don’t want you wandering off without me,” he grumbles out impatiently, gesturing at the door. “You want a distraction, fine. I’m giving you one; take it or leave it.” I swallow grabbing my jacket before meeting him back at the front door where he stands in his suit trying to fix his cufflinks, and in a terrible mood, which isn’t helping when he looks on the verge of shifting. Moving closer, I take them from him, flipping his hand over, I do his cufflinks.

“Why are you so cranky?” I ask him, and at first, he says nothing until I glance at him when moving to do the other one. “My wolf is furious with me; he is fighting me,” Zayn admits, and I stare at him.

“Why?” I ask quickly, fixing the other cufflink.

“For upsetting you; he didn’t like that you weren’t sleeping in our bed,” Zayn states, coming out in a growl at the end as his wolf tries shoving forward. “Your wolf is angry I wasn’t in the bed?”

“You forget I’ve marked you, Cleo; our wolves are possessive, animalistic sides of us; he kept me up all damn night wanting me to drag you back to the room like some barbaric caveman. He thought you were rejecting him.” He rubs his temples. I bite my bottom lip at his words, not knowing what to say.

Zayn reaches for his keys, when I snatch them from the hallstand. “I’m driving. I’m not getting in a car with you if you’re on the verge of shifting.” He clenches his teeth but says nothing. Instead, he turns to open the door.

We head out to the car when it occurs to me that I have no idea what he does for work; all I know is he has an office in the city. “What are you doing for work, anyway?” I ask him, hitting the key fob.

“Real Estate, property development; I have all the city pack businesses, and I own a few clubs and bars. The proceeds go back into the pack.”

“So how much do you own exactly?” Zayn seems thoughtful for a second. “My pack or me in general?”

“Both?”

“Half the city, between my father’s assets that were passed down and what my pack owns,” he tells me as I open the driver’s door and climb in, and so does Zayn, slamming the door behind him.

“That was not me!” Zayn growls as his claws slash his seatbelt when he goes to pull it on. “Zarek, you stupid mutt!” he snarls. My eyes widen as he talks to himself. Well, his wolf.

“She is right fucking there!” he snarls as fur sprouts across his hands. I raise an eyebrow at him, worried this will be a very embarrassing all-day thing in his office.

“Sorry, he’s being a…” His words cut off as Zarek presses beneath his skin.

“Zarek, knock it off, or I won’t sleep in our room tonight, either,” I snap at him, knowing he is about to shred Zayn’s suit. I want to get out of this house and can’t without Zayn. Zarek instantly settles, and Zayn sucks in a breath of relief. I stare at him, bewildered that his wolf so easily listened to me.

“He never listens to me like that,” Zayn mutters.

“Maybe because you called him a mutt.”

Zayn snorts and shakes his head. “Ready?” I ask him. He nods, motioning for me to go; the tension in the car is thick the entire way to his office building. I park the car and climb out in front of a large building with his name at the top. Z.H. corporation. “I can honestly say I have never been to this side of the city,” I tell him as I park his car.

“It’s only ten minutes from your university. How have you never been here before?”

I shrug. “Dad always told me this side of the city was rougher, so I avoided it.” I wonder why my father would say that when this seems to be the nicest part of the city and is only a few minutes away from the city center.

“He lied,” Zayn states coldly as we walk into the lobby. The second we enter, all eyes are on us, and instinctively, I stop. Zayn drapes his arm across my shoulders, tugging me closer. He leads me through the large lobby, my gaze darting everywhere as people greet him left and right. I feel like an outsider, a trespasser in this world of glitz and glamor I don’t belong in. When we reach an elevator, Zayn uses a swipe card and then presses the level he wants to go to.

His office takes my breath away—panoramic windows look over Nightshade City’s expansive skyline. On one wall is a mahogany desk with a sleek computer setup, while another showcases various awards and pictures of Zayn shaking hands with official looking people. His scent permeates everything, claiming this space as his own. Despite the grandeur, it feels impersonal and cold—like him when he isn’t around me.

“So… what do you want me to do?” I asked tentatively as he settles behind his desk, shuffling through papers.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he motions to the lounge. I sit heavily on it. For some reason, I was expecting it to be some cozy little building, not an actual skyscraper. However, I am now left twiddling my thumbs as he logs into his computer.

“Sitting on your lounge and watching you is not what I had in mind for work.”

Zayn sighs heavily. “Considering I wasn’t planning on coming in here today for now, it will do; just give me a second, and I will give you something to do.”

I mosey around the room looking at all the pictures, ones with his family and him as a child to him graduating from university to a picture of him and… me? My heart stops.

“What?” I find myself picking up a photo of me.

“This was at the pack meeting when I met you.” he states, coming up behind me.

“What are you doing with it?” I demand.

“I took it while I was sitting across from you.” He smirks before returning to his desk.

“That’s creepy!” I huff as I put it back on his desk. “So, what do you want me to do, Alpha Zayn?” I ask sarcastically as he glares at me for using his title like that.

“My files are right there. Sort them by date, will you?” he points to a mountain of files at the end of the desk.

“Are you serious?” I ask incredulously. He simply raises an eyebrow at me, waiting for an answer. With a huff, I grab the first pile and sit on the lounge, dumping them on the small coffee table that is vacant in his office. The next few hours pass by boringly slowly as I look through papers after papers on mergers, takeovers, shares, and deals. I don’t understand it all, however I date them. I did manage to do just fine until lunchtime comes around.

“Hungry?” he asks, not looking up from his computer screen. I stand, my back stiff and sore from sitting in one position for so long, before grabbing the next pile of files.

“Starving,” I tell him.

“Let me finish these emails, and we’ll go get something.”

I nod, taking the last few documents back to the coffee table. Then I notice my mother’s name. “What’s this?” I ask him. He glances at me before standing and shutting down his computer. He comes over to me while I try to decipher what it is; it looks like land title transfers, but that isn’t my mother’s signature, that much I do remember. I used to be jealous of her handwriting.

“Zayn?” I ask, holding up the documents before noticing the one behind it. I see the official title changeover for my father and Linda.

“Show me,” Zayn tells me, and I hold out the paper to him, his eyes narrowing before he snatches it off me.

“Were you going through my drawers?” he accuses, shocking me. I stare at him.

“How can you say that? Your mother was killed by rogues,” he reminds me as if I have forgotten.

“That was different, Zayn, and you know it. This would be different if they killed people but they haven’t; everyone got to the bunkers, and our men pushed them back. Like he said, no deaths. I thought they were attacking, they could have easily killed me and didn’t. I was outnumbered once I lost Vance,” Andrea says, glancing at the man.

Zayn averts his gaze, jaw clenching tightly as he considers this. His eyes flick back to the pathetic man before him, who is now shaking in fear, awaiting his fate. I chew my bottom lip trying to think of something to say but nothing comes to mind.

Zayn, however, chooses not to answer Andrea. Instead, he waves one of his men over as they head forward out of the tree line, having driven the rogues out.

“Send out teams to scout the northern borders. Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, increase training sessions with our warriors, and send word to Alpha Greyson of our newest addition please,” he says as he still has a death grip on my hand. I stare up at him in question, remaining silent.

“I don’t want any slip-ups if your father sends more our way,” he says gruffly before turning away, rubbing a hand over his face. The pack member rushes off..

“What about him?” Vance asks. I glance at the rogue.

“Take him inside, I want to be sure before we let him go,” Zayn states and my stomach sinks.

“Zayn?” Vance and Andrea ask simultaneously.

“I want to be sure.” Zayn states leaving no room for argument.

Zayn’s fury at the attack is obvious when Vance and Andrea hesitate; neither of them looks like they want to punish or torture this rogue for information, however Zayn is blinded by his anger. Vance hesitates a second too long, and Zayn moves toward the rogue man, who whimpers and begs again.

Zayn’s grip on the rogue’s arm is ironclad, his knuckles white with tension as he drags him inside the pack house. The air is thick with Zayn’s menacing aura, and the scent of the rogue’s fear, which emanates from his pores in a thick musk scent. “Zayn, stop,” I plead, my voice steady despite the hammering in my chest. “He’s scared, look at him. Please don’t hurt him, he’s too scared to lie to you!”

“And that is precisely why he would lie, Cleo! Especially knowing what he says decides if he lives or dies!” I shake my head, racing to catch up to him.

The rogue’s eyes flicker to me, wide and brimming with a raw desperation that clenches my heart. He’s not much older than I am, his face gaunt, dirt smudging his skin like a second layer.

“Please, Zayn,” I urge, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on Zayn’s tattooed forearm, feeling the thrum of power beneath the surface of his skin as his skin ripples. His aura blasts me, and I gasp, my hand dropping, and I nearly do too before he realizes what he did.

“Cleo!” he blurts, letting the man go, who staggers and stumbles onto his knees at the abruptness of Zayn no longer dragging his weight. “I didn’t mean that,” he murmurs, reaching for me. I slap his hands away, only for him to lift his hand to the rogue. “Look what you made me do!” he snarls, about to backhand the poor man, when I move, stepping in front of him. Zayn only just pulls back in time.

“No, you’re letting your anger rule you, stand down, Zayn, or I am leaving!” I growl at him, before covering my mouth with my hands at what I did. Zayn startles at the sound, too.

“Cleo, he…” Zayn starts, pausing as I glare at him.

“Leave him, hunger makes you do crazy things.” I grab the rogue man’s arm and I help him up. He looks at Zayn warily, yet doesn’t move a muscle, using me like a shield. Zayn growls at his hand clutching the back of my shirt. Turning, I push the man toward the kitchen instead of the basement.

“Cleo!” Zayn snarls. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding him!”

Zayn’s silver eyes lock onto mine, searching, probing, before he exhales sharply, the tension uncoiling from his frame.

“Fine,” Zayn grunts. “But if he tries anything—”

“He won’t,” I interject quickly, giving the rogue an encouraging nod. “Will you?” The rogue man looks between us, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “No, Alpha… I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. We just needed help; our pack is starving.”

“Pack?” Zayn raises a skeptical eyebrow, his Alpha aura dominating the room.

“Other rogues, like me. I guess we aren’t a pack, but by remaining together we haven’t lost our minds, or I hope we haven’t, maybe we have? We aren’t like the other rogues.” Zayn watches him carefully, cautiously.

“Other rogues?” I repeat.

“Alpha Dane and Alpha Samuel, they got rogues doing their dirty work. They ordered the attack at that hotel Council meeting a couple of months back. We don’t associate with them; they’re not safe, they have mostly lost their humanity.”

Zayn’s jaw clenches, the mention of Alpha Samuel and Alpha Dane sparking a dark fire behind his eyes.

“Come on,” I tell the rogue man, leading him toward the kitchen, so I can make him something to eat.

I motion for the man to sit on the stool at the island and open the fridge, looking for something to make him. I pull out ingredients for a sandwich. Zayn leans against the door watching me, his aura isn’t as angry and violent anymore, although I can tell he doesn’t trust the rogue at all, refusing to take his eyes off the man. The rogue’s eyes dart around the kitchen, his posture tense, like a cornered animal. His gaze settles on Zayn, and I can see the flicker of recognition in those haunted depths, a silent plea for some semblance of mercy.

I add layers of turkey and cheese, tomato slices, cucumber, lettuce – everything I can think of not knowing what he likes. Maybe I should have asked if he has allergies, I think to myself. Surely, he would have mentioned he was allergic to these things, since he is watching me. Glancing at the man, he doesn’t seem comfortable around us, which I can’t blame him for when Zayn was only threatening to kill him moments ago.

When the sandwich is ready; I slide it across the counter to him, he hesitates for a second, so I grab him a bottle of water from the fridge, all while being very aware of Zayn’s eyes watching me.

His hands shake as he tries to open the bottle of water, taking huge gulps of it down like he hasn’t had anything in days.

“Thank you,” he mumbles around a mouthful of food, staring at his sandwich.

“Eat, we’ll talk after,” I tell him before feeling Zayn’s chest press to my back. The rogue’s eyes dart to him behind me when he speaks.

“Eat, I won’t hurt you,” Zayn tells him before pressing his lips to my shoulder. The man takes a bite, and eats slowly like he is savoring every bite.

“So, what’s your name?” I ask

“Blake,” he mumbles around food. “Cleo, right?” he asks before taking another bite.

“Correct,” I tell him

“How long since your last meal?” Zayn asks Blake.

“Three days,” he admits, and I chew my lip.

“So why did you agree? You had to know it was suicide?” Zayn coaxes out.

The rogue man swallows his food before answering, “Mitchel the Alpha’s Beta said our Alpha would take us back, that we could come home. I haven’t met him, but Mom didn’t want us to go, she said she won’t ever bow to him.”

“Him? You mean Alpha Joseph?” Zayn asks when I point to the other half of the sandwich, telling him to eat. He shakes his head. “I’ll save it for my sister,” he murmurs.

I look at Zayn, but he doesn’t comment about Blake’s sister. “You said you didn’t know who sent you?” Zayn states.

“I don’t, it was the first time I had seen the Alpha. I only know the Beta’s name because of Jamie,” he states.

“And Jamie accepted the deal? Where is Jamie?”

The man looks away. “Dead. Your Beta killed him when we were trying to escape.” Zayn points to the sandwich. “Eat, you’ll have food to take home,” Zayn tells him.

“Tell us about the other rogues, the ones you’re scared of,” Zayn demands, his voice a low rumble that resonates.

“We call them The Bandits,” the rogue murmurs, his voice hollow. “They come, killing our people, taking what little we have.” He shudders, the fear palpable in each word. “We’re not safe even from our kind.”

I feel a surge of pity for these outcasts, their eyes reflecting a mix of hope and dread as they watch us from a distance. Families huddle together, their children peering out with wide, curious eyes. I couldn’t imagine having to live like that.

“What else?” Zayn asks

The rogue swallows quickly. “They… they don’t take prisoners,” he rasps. “They’ve killed some of us. It’s a sort of warning—to stay in line or else.”

“Or else what?” Zayn prods, moving closer so his entire chest lines my back.

“Death isn’t the worst thing they threaten us with; they’ve taken a few of the women when we’ve refused them,” the rogue whispers, casting a wary glance at Cleo before returning his focus to Zayn. “We live like ghosts; most of us are banished families clinging to the fringes of Nightshade City; the majority of us were from his pack or so mom says. I don’t remember not being rogue. That Alpha… Joseph? He gave us an ultimatum; scare your pack or remain exiled forever.”

“Banished? Why?” I ask, stepping forward with a creased brow, only Zayn tugs me back against him and I sigh. “You said you’re from my father’s pack?” I ask.

The man’s face drains of color, and he stumbles back a step, as if the very ground beneath him had shifted. “You’re… you’re the Alpha’s daughter?”

“Your father…” The rogue hesitates, his eyes widening as if he’d just pieced together a puzzle. “When his mate—your mother—was killed, he banished my mother for not submitting to him along with those who refused.”

“Submission is not loyalty,” Zayn growls. “It’s control, fear. That’s not how you lead a pack.”

“Wait,” I say, my voice quivering with a mix of anger and curiosity. “You knew my mother was killed. Why would my father banish you for not submitting?”

“Because we refused to be his pawns,” the rogue states, his own anger surfacing.

“Just like he’s using Alpha Dane and Samuel to manipulate the packs now.”

The rogue’s revelation hits me like a physical blow, my breath catching in my chest as I struggle to reconcile this new piece of the puzzle. Zayn’s grip on my shoulder tightens.

“Tell us more,” I demand, trying to keep my voice steady. “What do you know about my mother’s death?”

The rogue man looks between Zayn and me, his eyes darting nervously, as if the truth he harbors is a dangerous secret itching to break free. “I only know what my mother told me; I had a head injury a few years ago, and lost all earlier memories.”

“What did your mother tell you, then?” Zayn asks, his curiosity now piqued.

“Her mother… she was a visionary,” he began, his voice a husky whisper. “She saw the potential for peace, for unity between packs. She and Alpha Greyson had been discussing a merger, one that would have strengthened both packs against enemies; my mother believed Greyson was her true mate.”

“Did your mother tell you anything about my father?” The question spills from my lips before I can stop it.

“Alpha Joseph,” He hesitates, swallowing hard. “He didn’t take kindly to the idea. Said he was Alpha, and that if your mother wanted to leave he expected her to give up her pack for him and his new Luna; something about her owing him for something?” the man asks, his brows creasing like he isn’t sure on the last part.

My heart races, pounding against my rib cage like a caged animal desperate for release. The implications are staggering. My mother’s death, the banishment of these rogues—how much of it was orchestrated by my own father? It now has me questioning if he had something to do with her death.

“Did he kill her?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, I can feel Zayn’s silent growl vibrating through his chest, the sound feral and protective.

“No,” The rogue shakes his head, adamant yet somber. “But when she died, he seized the chance to tighten his grip, to make sure no such union could threaten his rule again. That’s why we refused to submit—my mother was one of her warriors. She also said those rogues killed her. The ones who attacked the city a couple of months back. If you need information, you can meet her.”

“You said they answer to Alpha Samuel?” I ask. The man nods, and I glance at Zayn, trying to make sense of this mess.

“Well then, I guess you need to take us back to your mother,” Zayn states.

“You won’t hurt them?” Blake asks.

Zayn shakes his head. “I’ll do one better, your rogues help me, I’ll help them,” Zayn offers and the man glances at me nervously.

“He’s telling the truth?” he asks, and I look at Zayn.

“His word is good,” I tell the man, and he nods slowly before pushing out his stool to stand.

“Okay, I will take you to them, but you can’t hurt them. We are mostly families there, women, children, the only men left were sent here, and your people killed most of us off,” he admits, his lips quivering.

“I’m not about to hurt women and children. I may be an asshole, but I’m not a monster,” Zayn tells him.