Page 40 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

“Enough!” he snaps. “I don’t know who to believe anymore, Cleo. You’ve been caught lying too many times.”

“Are you serious?” I feel a hollow pit form in my stomach. “Dad, Lydia lies like it’s as natural as breathing.”

“I don’t care, you are hardly role model material right now. Today, it will be sorted out properly once and for all. We need to stand united and you two look on the verge of going to war with each other. Be there at 4 PM.” He hangs up before I can argue further.

“Damn it,” I curse, throwing the phone onto the bed. It’s already 3:30 PM—the sinking feeling in my gut tells me this will end badly but what choice do I have?

“Your father being a dick?” Zayn’s voice, laced with concern, breaks through my frustration.

“Yeah,” I admit, running a hand through my tousled hair. “He wants me at pack training to sort out the drama with Lydia.”

“Lydia again?” Zayn’s gray eyes flash with a mixture of irritation and something else. “That girl is nothing but trouble for you.”

“Tell me about it.” I push myself off his lap. My movements are jerky and rushed. I have to get ready, have to face whatever ridiculous resolution Dad has in mind.

“Don’t go, come back to mine.” Zayn’s hand catches mine, stilling my frantic movements. His thumb brushes over my skin, dread coils in my belly.

“I have to, you know this.”

He hangs his head and curses. “Fine, just be careful around her.”

“Always am,” I respond, though my bravado feels like it’s wearing thin these days. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll handle it, I am not your problem.”

“Like hell you aren’t,” he says, the edge in his tone making me pause. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“Zayn, this is pack business. I have to deal with it. My father would flip his lid if you showed up with me.” I slip my hand from his grasp, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately.

“Pack business or not, it sounds like a trap Lydia has you walking into,” he insists, standing to tower over me. His presence is commanding, reassuring, and yet utterly infuriating.

“Since when are you my keeper?” I shoot back, the emotional turmoil bubbling into defiance.

“Since I started dating you, Cleo.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I? Because you’ve had nothing but issues for weeks now with that bitch and every time I’ve spoken to you since, your father has been forcing you into situations he has no right putting you in.”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding. “Just… stay out of it, alright? This is something I need to do on my own.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment I think he’ll argue further. Then he nods, stepping back with a frustrated huff. “Fine. But if things go sideways, I’m coming for you.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I reply, though part of me thrills at the idea of being someone worth coming for. Deacon certainly wouldn’t have dropped everything to come to my aid out of fear of my father.

The look he gives me as he turns to leave is filled with unspoken promises and dark warnings.

“See you later,” I say, watching as he climbs out my window. He stops perched on the windowsill and motions me over with one finger. I move toward him only for him to grab the front of my top and yank me closer, crashing his lips against mine briefly.

“Training grounds?” I pull away. “I just wanna know in case you call me to come get you,” he adds. I eye him suspiciously. “Or just say the word and I’ll march you out that door while telling your guards to suck each other’s dicks and kidnap you?”I huff.

“It was worth a try,” he chuckles.

“You really would, wouldn’t you?” I smirk.

“I can order them to fuck each other if you’d prefer?”

I laugh shaking my head. “Go, before you get me in trouble.”

“You call me if something goes wrong,” he tells me, and I nod. Not that I would; I can’t run to Zayn every time and lately, the amount of times I’ve needed rescuing is becoming embarrassing.

“See you soon,” he pecks my lips before jumping to the ground.

A part of me wants to run after him, to bury myself in his arms and forget everything going on. But obligation and pride anchor me in place. I steel myself for what’s to come, knowing it won’t be pleasant if Lydia is involved.

Seconds tick by like hours as I race around and slip my training gear on.

A knock shatters the silence. I grab a bottle of perfume and douse myself in the floral aroma, masking the lingering traces of Zayn’s musky scent that clings to my skin.

When I open the door, my guard stands there, nostrils flaring as they take in the heavy notes of jasmine and rose.

“Ready, Cleo?” one of them asks, his gaze probing.

“Let’s get this over with,” I reply, stepping out and locking the door behind me.

The car ride is silent and suffocating. Outside the window, the scenery blurs, my focus sharpens on the growing sense of unease.

We arrive at the training grounds, and I see the packs gathered, Bluesteel, Lakeview, Claymore.

All here, all training, which isn’t weird except usually today isn’t Claymore pack training day, they usually train with Lakeview just not on the same days as our pack.

Lakeview trains daily; so I’m not surprised to see them here.

“Damn,” I mutter under my breath, noting Alpha Samuel’s presence. Today isn’t ordinary at all if Lydia has gone running to Daddy.

My father emerges from the crowded stadium grounds, his face contorted in anger. The sight of him, so furious, sends a chill down my spine—not of fear, but frustration.

Climbing out of the car, I shut the door. “Father,” I start, but he’s already upon me.

“Explain yourself, Cleo!” he demands. “Lydia’s got a broken nose, and now Samuel is threatening to cut ties with us!”

I roll my eyes, unable to help myself. “She’ll heal,” I scoff. “Wolves heal faster than their egos.”

“Enough!” He seizes my arm with a grip that has no room for argument, pulling me toward the heart of the training grounds and inside the stadium. “Fix this. Samuel won’t stand for your bullying any longer.”

Bullying? I want to laugh, to rage, to scream. Instead, I grind my teeth and follow, because sometimes being future Alpha means swallowing your pride and facing the music—even if that means forcing a fake apology from my lips for that troll of a stepsister I have.

“Fine,” I say, letting my anger simmer beneath the surface. “I’ll handle it.”

Inside, my mind races, when I realize Claymore Pack isn’t training, they are sitting in the grandstands. As I step onto the training field, I realize this meeting isn’t just about Lydia or our petty squabbles– something else is going on.

And deep down, I know Zayn was right. This feels like a setup, and I’ve walked right into it.

The moment I step onto the training field, the tension is palpable. Lydia stands there, decked out in gear that looks foreign on her—like a lamb donning wolf’s clothing for a masquerade. Her smirk is as out of place as her attire, and it grates on my nerves.

“Training for once, Lydia?”

“Preparing for the inevitable,” she retorts with a smug lift of her chin. “Unlike some.”

Beside her, her father, Alpha Samuel, appears as though a storm is about to break. His eyes are narrow slits, his jaw set in lines of disappointment and barely-contained anger. The air between him and my father crackles with hostility as we come to a stop next to them.

“Your daughter has crossed the line this time, Joseph,” Alpha Samuel growls, his finger jabbing in my direction.

“Lydia provoked her,” my father fires back, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest. “She insulted Cleo’s mother—my ex-wife.”

“Is that true, Lydia?” Samuel turns his sharp gaze onto his daughter.

“Of course not, Father,” Lydia lies through her teeth.

“Ask my new guards,” I retort, refusing to let her deceit slide. “They were there.” I motion to them where they stand leaning against the hip-high fencing that is supposed to protect spectators.

Samuel signals sharply with his hand, and my guards approach, their posture rigid and alert.

“Is what Cleo claims true?” Samuel commands. Under Samuel’s piercing scrutiny, they confirm my account without hesitation.

“Damn it, Lydia!” Samuel explodes, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I’m at my wits end with this petty crap between you two!”

From the edge of the gathering crowd, Alpha Dane, who always seems to be around lately eavesdropping, comes forward. “Why not settle it with a fight?” he suggests casually.

“Lydia has a wolf. Cleo does not,” my father scoffs, dismissing the idea immediately.

“Ah, but Cleo has been trained,” Samuel counters, mulling over the suggestion with a gleam of malice in his eyes. “Could be an even match.”

“Even?” I laugh bitterly. “Right, because going teeth and claw against fists is fair.”

“You claim your daughter trained with wolves in training before,” Dane chimes in, his question directed at my father.

“Training is not the same as fighting for real,” I snap before my father can reply.

My skin prickles with anticipation and dread.

I’ve sparred with wolves before, but a real fight?

That’s different altogether. In training they aren’t allowed to bite or rip me apart, it’s all strategic, not combat.

I am not stupid enough to believe I would stand a chance against a wolf in a real fight, the rogue attack at the Council meeting was proof of that.

Dane just shrugs, his indifference stoking the fire inside me. “A fight is a fight.”

My father’s face is drawn tight, the weight of his position and the expectations of our pack etched into the furrows of his brow.

He’s caught, trapped by his own pride and the pressures around us.

I know he’s considering it, the possibility of letting me prove myself—or perhaps letting me be sacrificed to maintain peace and that infuriates me.

“Joseph, think carefully,” Samuel goads him. “This might be the solution we need.”