Page 19 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

“They used to be best friends, and they were talking again before my father died. Your father hates me because my father is dead, he blames me. My father was going to sell him back the land, but I stopped him, not wanting Linda to get her hands on it. When the city was founded, your father and mine, along with four other men, co-owned the land on which it was built. However, Joseph got into debt to my father, and after Joseph was caught out, he spent the funds put aside for his half. My father was going to file for bankruptcy when your mother told my father to sell half of it.”

“So he was forced to sell half of their shared half or lose it all. He left a patch for your father from his half, which he finished paying off just before you were born, back then my father had no choice to sell the rest off. It took until I took over my father’s pack to recover what he lost.”

“As a result, your father has been holding a grudge against my father ever since, and he’s been trying to find a way to take the land back.

That’s why he hates me – he thinks my father sold him out and tried to steal what is his.

However, that hatred grew when my father died; your father hated him for it. For years they were really close.”

“If my father were in debt, he wouldn’t have had a choice,” I say, the pieces not quite fitting together in my mind.

“True, but your father didn’t see it that way and reckons my father caused issues in his marriage to your mother.

However, what he doesn’t know is that your mother told my father to sell it because the money used to buy it originally came from her parents.

” My grandparents died when I was six, so hearing him speak of them is a little odd?

“Only when your mother learned your father spent the land taxes and defaulted on her parents’ credit, she asked him to sell it to get back anything he could for it.

My father, luckily, was able to sell a sizable chunk that paid her parents back.

He kept a piece and gave it to your mother because your mother used to be best friends with mine until your father got it in his head that my father was meddling and after his wife. ”

“Yet he left her for the troll he has now because she is his mate,” I scoff, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. Zayn remains silent on the matter, clearly uncomfortable with discussing my father’s choices.

“So, where is your mother now?” I ask him, trying to shift the conversation.

“Dead. She died nineteen years ago.” Zayn swallows thickly as if the words still sting after all these years.

“So just after I was born?” Realization dawns; I never heard of this or met him before the Council meeting. If our mothers were close, surely I would have known him if she did not die.

I stare at Zayn, trying to wrap my head around it all. My father’s long-standing grudge against him wasn’t because of some imagined slight or personal vendetta – it was rooted in a complicated history between our families, and a sense of betrayal that has festered over the years.

“Wow,” I murmur, feeling a mix of emotions churning inside me.

“That’s… quite a story.” The weight of it settles on my chest, making my heart heavy with the knowledge of their shared past.

As we pull up next to a quaint café and boutique clothing store, Zayn climbs out of the car and gestures for me to follow him.

I hesitantly move around to head into the café, feeling foolish in the oversized clothes he lent me, when he grabs my hand and tugs me in the direction of the boutique instead.

He pushes the door open with a jingle from the bell above, revealing an array of colorful summer outfits on display.

“Andrea!” Zayn calls out, his voice echoing through the small store. A woman around my father’s age appears, her face lighting up with joy upon seeing Zayn. She rushes forward and embraces him tightly, her eyes sparkling with affection.

“Oh, I’ve missed you! I haven’t seen you in weeks! How’s your brother?”

“Doing much better, picked him up last week,” Zayn replies, his voice softening.

“Who is this lovely young lady?” Andrea asks, her gaze shifting to me. Her expression is warm and welcoming.

“This is…” Zayn begins when Andrea interrupts him.

“Gosh, you look like your mother,” says the woman, her eyes lighting up. “Hello, Cleo, I’m Andrea, Zayn’s mother’s twin sister,” she tells me.

“You knew my mother, too?” I ask, always eager to meet someone who knew her. Back home, hardly anyone mentions her and when I do, I always get told not to bring up the past, or not to upset Linda by speaking of his previous marriage.

“Of course, honey. Your mother and I were close friends,” Andrea says warmly, her gaze softening as she gazes at me.

I swallow hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. No one has ever spoken so openly about my mother before, and it feels both thrilling and forbidden. Last time I heard anyone speak of her I was eleven years old, then Linda got upset, rarely does anyone mention her now.

“I was devastated to learn she passed. Many regrets. I should have intervened earlier, I did warn her, but…” Andrea’s voice trails off under Zayn’s disapproving gaze, changing the topic swiftly.

“I take it you need clothes,” she laughs, switching subjects with skill and pulling clothes from the shelves. I glance at Zayn, wanting to know what she was going to say, when he nods for me to follow her.

“Really? You already gave me a phone, showered me, healed me, and now you’re dressing me?”

He chuckles. “At this rate, you might as well move in with me,” he mocks, then laughs and nudges me to follow his aunt.

I comply, and Andrea hands me a long, flowy dress. I avoid glancing at the price tag, instead turning toward Zayn for reassurance.

“Go on, this place was my mother’s. Pick what you want,” he shrugs, and the ease of his generosity baffles me, especially since I am from a rival pack. Why is he being so nice?

I slip into the fitting room and change into the dress, admiring how it hugs my curves and finally feeling better in clothes that fit me. I don’t have to worry about them falling to my ankles when I am walking.

“Looks like you’re ready for breakfast,” Andrea says, her eyes twinkling with approval as she takes in my appearance. “Go on, Zayn’s waiting for you at the café next door.”

Heading next door into the café, I spot Zayn seated at the back. When we arrived at the boutique store, this place had been bustling with people. Now I find we’re the only ones here. I peer around, wondering if I drove them off, being that I am not from here.

Zayn notices me, sets his phone down, and rises from his seat, coming over to me.

“You found something you like?” he asks, eyeing me up and down with approval. I nod, still peering around at all the empty tables.

“Yes, thank you,” I tell him, and he places a hand on my lower back. “Where did everyone go?” I ask as he leads me toward the table he was sitting at.

“Patrols, home, we have the place to ourselves besides the staff.”

My eyes narrow at him. “I scared them off, didn’t I? They don’t like rival packs around,” I frown, feeling terrible when Zayn pulls out my chair. I reluctantly sit in it.“I would hardly call you a threat to my pack,” he chuckles.

“I never said a threat, just that I’m not from here and it’s obvious,” I tell him.

Zayn grips my shoulders, making me look up at him, only to find his face barely an inch off mine. His lips are so close, my eyes dart to them, and his scent floods me, making me instinctively lean in.

“I asked them to leave, you didn’t scare them off,” he whispers. My face heats at his answer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I blurt, horrified. “Your pack doesn’t bother me, this is their territory,” I tell him, and he smirks.

“You were worried about people seeing you, so I asked them to leave. Stop stressing. Besides, most had duties to attend to, anyway.” He squeezes my shoulders before sitting across from me. “You don’t like being alone with me,” he softly laughs.

“It’s not that; I’m just worried about being seen with you,” I admit.

“Here? Your father wouldn’t dare, besides my pack won’t snitch on you,” he adds.

I chew my lip.

“They may not, I know Deacon would have stopped by home looking for me by now, which in turn will have my father questioning my whereabouts.”

“You seriously like that little weasel?” he questions, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, he is my boyfriend,” I admit. Zayn leans back with his arms folded across his chest, eyeing me.

“He’s not your mate?” he questions, and I shake my head. Deacon already admitted I’m not his mate, he is two years older than me and has his wolf.

“No, that I do know. His wolf hates me because Deacon wants to mark me when I come of age.”

“His wolf wants his mate?”

I shrug, unsure. I tend to try not to be around him when his wolf is loose.

“You’re scared of his wolf?” he presses.

“Can we talk about something else?” I ask, not feeling this conversation is appropriate.

“Does mine scare you?” he asks.

“Yours hasn’t bitten me, besides nipping me in the freezer. At least not to deliberately hurt me,” I tell him. “Though he is huge, and his aura is potent, but no, your wolf doesn’t scare me. Well, he did when you shifted. Not after falling asleep with him.” I snort.

“Deacon’s wolf bit you?”

I nod when a lady brings out a milkshake. I thank her, then reach for my milkshake. The coldness of it soothes my dry throat as I take a sip.

“Yes, he lost control a couple of years ago and shifted when we had an argument. He tore into me,” I admit.

“That’s why you have the scar on your hip, the one you covered with your tattoo?” he questions, and I nod.

“What about your tattoos? You have a heap?” I ask, trying to push his attention away from my relationship with Deacon. My eyes roam over his arms that are covered in them to his chest, I can just make out the edges of them poking out beneath his shirt.