Page 12 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

Linda had convinced my father that my mother would marry Alpha Greyson, and they’d be without a pack if my mother removed my father’s title and merged packs.

All because my mother had grown closer to the Alpha when Linda came into the picture.

My mother never refused to let my father keep his mate despite them being married.

He refused to let her divorce him out of fear of losing the pack, since it legally belonged to my mother.

Linda worried about her status, had my father break the treaty alliance, and a few days later, my mother was killed in a rogue attack because our borders weren’t protected.

“Watch your tongue, Cleo!” he growls, his face turning red with a mixture of hurt and rage. I am sick of holding my tongue and just enduring his stupid mistakes.

Linda steps between us, her dark hair framing her eyes as she glares at me, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You ungrateful little brat. Your father has done everything for you, and all you do is cause problems!”

“Ungrateful?” I scoff, incredulous. “What has he done for me besides trying to control every aspect of my life? I am not some puppet he can manipulate!”

“Enough!” my father roars, silencing both Linda and me. “Cleo, get out of my face and do not disrespect my Luna. She is only trying to help.”

“Help?” My mind races with anger and confusion. How could they not see that I was suffocating under their expectations and rules? Lydia never has to attend meetings, train with the pack, or be used as his secretary. Yet, I am the problem child?

I am the one dragged to meetings and forced to work after school while Linda does absolutely nothing, just like her daughter, who gets everything handed to her on a silver platter.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their disapproval pressing down on me and knowing nothing I say will get through to him.

Unable to find the words to express myself, I retreat, storming out and back to my room, where I slam the door shut behind me in frustration.

I lie down on my bed, flinging my arm over my eyes, blocking out what little light is in the room. The more I sit in the room, the more my anger at my father’s foolishness festers.

I spend most of the day in the room, refusing to speak with my father.

However, later in the afternoon, I hear a knock on the door.

Sitting up, I see it’s him. Though right now, he looks remorseful.

He hesitantly walks over, dropping my car keys on the bedside table.

I pick them up, looking at him questioningly.

“I’m sorry I slapped you, but you were not entitled or authorized to do what you did. Nor do you have the right to speak to Linda like that.” He sighs heavily. I say nothing to him. I know he’s not in a space to hear what I have to say, so I decide not to waste my breath.

At my silence, he scratches the back of his neck nervously, then grips my shoulder.

“Anyway, I paid your outstanding bill on the car,” he says. I nod, and he presses his lips in a line. He knows he fucked up by hitting me; he can’t take that back.

I watch as he moseys out. I stare at the door where he left before, glancing at my keys in my hand. Getting up, I grab some clothes and pull them on, hissing as I pull my leggings up my legs. I need to get out of here.

Fuck Dad’s rules.

I am going to enjoy the rest of my break before I return to college. For now, though, I need some time away from them all and to think things through.

Without a second thought, I grab my purse and head for the door. Jogging downstairs, I storm into the kitchen, my anger still boiling from the confrontation with my father and Linda. Despite him apologizing, he still had no right to hit me.

The air in the kitchen is thick with tension as Lydia and I exchange barbs.

Her smugness irks me. I grab my drink bottle from the fridge, feeling its cold surface against my palm.

I take a long, deliberate sip, letting the silence stretch between us.

I feel Lydia’s eyes on me, analyzing, judging, waiting for me to crack.

“You think you can handle being Alpha?” Lydia taunts, her voice dripping with condescension. “You can’t even handle a simple conversation without running away.”

I turn to face her, my grip tightening around the bottle. “Handling the pack is more than just smooth talk and pretty dresses, Lydia. It’s about making tough decisions, something I’m more than capable of.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “You? You’re too emotional, too impulsive. And think with your heart, not your head. That’s not what the pack needs.” Her words sting. “Maybe that’s exactly what the pack needs,” I counter.

“Someone who cares about them, not just the power and status.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, but I notice a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze.

I know I’ve hit a nerve. The truth is, Lydia has always been about appearances, about maintaining some facade.

Being an Alpha requires more than that. It requires strength, determination, and a willingness to put the pack above all else, something she isn’t capable of.

Drinking half my drink, it tastes a little off.

I set it on the counter as I rustle in the pantry for something to snack on and choose a beef jerky stick.

I bite a piece off when she speaks again.

“You’re going out?” Lydia asks me, and I glance at her.

“I thought you were, too?” I ask, and she shrugs.

“I am just waiting for Amber to show up. Do you want a lift into the city?” she asks me, and I eye her suspiciously. What is she sucking up for? “Not from you,” I tell her, holding up my keys. “I’ll drive myself.” “How did you afford to get that out?” she demands.

“Dad got it out of the shop for me.”

“Typical, your father is always rewarding bad behavior,” she hisses.

“You’d know since your behavior is hardly the little princess you make out in front of him.”

Lydia laughs. “I’m not gonna be the next Alpha. You are,” she says, unable to hide the bitterness from her tone.

“You’re right, I will be, and I can’t wait because that means I will kick your freeloading ass to the curb!” I sneer, going to grab my drink bottle from the fridge when I don’t notice it on the counter. I could have sworn I left it on the counter. How did it get in the fridge?

“Did you put my drink in the fridge?” I ask Lydia. She looks at me like I’m a fool.

“Why would I touch something you’ve had your cock-sucking lips on?

” I roll my eyes, turning back to my task.

I rinse the bottle and refill it with iced coffee when I remember that I left my jacket upstairs.

With a growl of annoyance, I head for the stairs and cringe every step.

Once back upstairs, I snatch it off the back of my chair next to my desk and head back downstairs.

My hands shake from the pain of moving down the stairs. I ignore it and move to the kitchen. Lydia stands beside the fridge. “Don’t get caught now,” Lydia sneers.

“I’m sure you’ll snitch the first chance you get,” I retort when she hands me my drink bottle.

“Sure will. I can’t keep my reputation so clear with Daddy Dearest without muddying yours.”

I roll my eyes at Lydia, who wears a malicious glint in her eyes. Refusing to pay her any more attention, I loosen the cap on my bottle and take a large gulp, desperate to quench the fire of rage within me.

“Enjoy your night, Cleo,” Lydia sneers, sashaying her hips as she saunters away. “Oh, and Cleo? Don’t get too wasted; you don’t want to be too hungover when your father punishes you for sneaking off!”

I squint at her words. Lydia knows I am not much of a drinker. I am just going there to spend time with Deacon, not get wasted.

Shaking my head, I move for the front door, and there is only one thing that can help me forget the suffocating tension at home—going out and having some fun. I need to get out of here, away from Lydia’s snide comments and my father’s overbearing presence.

As I step outside, the cool evening air hits me, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the house.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me.

I can’t let my family’s drama dictate my life.

With a burst of defiance, I pull out my phone and dial Deacon’s number.

“Hey, Deacon, are you still at the club? I need a break from this hellhole,” I whisper into the phone.

“Of course, Cleo. I’ve been here for ten minutes waiting for you. I was wondering when you’d show up,” he replies, his warm voice soothing my frayed nerves. “Whose phone are you calling from?” he asks as I unlock my car.

“Ah, new one. I got it today. I’ll see you soon,” I tell him, hanging up.

I climb into my car, the familiar scent of leather and pine air freshener enveloping me. The engine starts with a purr of the motor as I pull out of the driveway.

The drive to the club is quiet, giving me plenty of time to think of a way to build up the courage to tell Deacon about my father’s plans to marry me off.

Outside the club, the thumping music vibrates through my body as Deacon and I wait in line to go into the club.

The longer I wait, though, the dizzier I get.

I grab Deacon’s arm, and he glances at me. “Are you okay?” he whispers.

I nod, it must be vertigo. “Must be from the painkillers,” I answer.

He presses the back of his hand to my face. “Do you want me to take you home?” he asks. I shake my head, knowing it will wear off when I hear her nagging voice.

“Deacon!” Lydia calls, and I groan. Deacon turns just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck and lean into him.

“Hey, Lydia, Amber,” he states, and Lydia steps back. Deacon hugs Amber, and she pecks his cheek.

“I thought you were going to be here earlier?” Deacon says, and I cut him a glare.

What does he mean?

“We were until Maya bailed on us,” Amber states, looking disappointed.