Page 44 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)

· Cleo ·

The cool afternoon air hits my face like a slap as I step out of the stadium, my chest heaving with sobs that threaten to break free at any moment.

My whole world has just been turned upside down—I am officially alone, abandoned by the man I called father for nineteen years.

Somehow, my feet carry me away from the mess behind me, away from the whispers and glares of everyone who saw those horrific images.

I stumble around outside, the ground coming fast toward me.

I lean against the brick wall for support before my legs give out completely, dropping me onto the cold pavement.

Humiliation, anger, grief—they all rush through me in an uncontrollable torrent.

Hot tears stream down my cheeks, creating streaks in the dirt and blood that coats my face—a result of Zayn and my father’s fight above me.

“Cleo!” Zayn’s desperate voice cuts through the thickening fog in my mind. I can’t bring myself to look at him, not now. His footsteps come closer, crunching on the gravel, relentless. “Cleo…”

“Go away!” I choke out, the words like shards of glass in my throat. My eyes are swollen, my vision blurred by the onslaught of tears. I can barely make out his form as it approaches, a shadowed silhouette against the waning light.

“Look at me,” he demands, there is a tremble in his voice that betrays his own turmoil.

“Why?” I spit out bitterly, pressing my back against the bricks as if I can disappear into them. “So you can gloat? So you can see the mess you’ve made?”

Zayn is kneeling before me, his muscular frame somehow making even this position seem powerful, commanding. “I didn’t do this. I didn’t want this for you.”

“Then what did you want, Zayn?” My voice rises, fueled by a rage I don’t fully understand. “Because right now, it feels like you wanted to destroy everything!”

“Everything I’ve done…” he starts. I cut him off.

“Everything you’ve done has led to this! I asked you not to get involved!” I gesture wildly to my tear-streaked face, to the empty space around us where my life seems to have fallen apart. “You think because you’re some all-powerful Alpha that you can just—”

“Damn it, Cleo, I’m trying to protect you!

” His shout echoes off the wall behind me, and for a moment, we’re both stunned into silence.

Zayn’s gray eyes meet mine, and the intensity within them pins me in place.

“This isn’t about power or me one-upping your father.

It’s about you. Can’t you see that?” I shake my head, and he reaches for me.

“Stop,” I choke out, batting his hands away. Shame and confusion coil tightly within me as Zayn remains crouched in front of me, his eyes softening slightly.

“I get you’re angry, upset, and want someone to blame, but I’m not it.” His fingers are cool and gentle on my hot skin, an unwelcome contrast to the heat of my embarrassment.

His touch is hesitant, a reminder of the chaos I’ve just left behind. “I’m so sorry this happened.” A tremor races through his words, betraying the iron strength I know he possesses.

The raw honesty in his tone stirs something inside me, yet I can’t allow myself the comfort of his apologies—not now.

I push him back, needing distance, needing air.

My legs find their strength, and I rise, heart pounding against my ribcage like a trapped bird desperate for escape from its owner’s cage.

“Enough, please just stop, Zayn, stop with the act, stop acting like you fucking care!” I manage to stand, trying to loom over him even though I’m only 5’4”.

It’s futile; he’s a tower of muscle and resolve, dark hair tousled from the fight, his presence overwhelming as he stands there chest bare and in just a pair of sweatpants.

“Can’t you see? This was never about what you wanted or didn’t want!” Anger flares up again, burning away the tears, replacing them with a bitter taste in my mouth.

“You couldn’t just stay away, could you?”

“Stay away?” Hurt flickers across his face like a shadow.

“Yes! Stay the fuck away!” I shove Zayn, my hands striking his chest like bricks, the force of my betrayal driving each blow.

“Don’t make out this isn’t what you wanted!

I asked you to stay away, not to step in!

This is exactly what you wanted!” My words are a whip, lashing out with venom and despair.

He staggers back, a look of hurt flashing across his rugged features.

“You think sorry is enough?” I cry, my voice breaking under the strain of anger and tears that refuse to stop.

They blur the world around me until there’s only him, the source of my pain, and the target of my fury.

He flinches, a visible wince, as if my accusations are physical blows beating against him and inflicting injury.

The taste of salt from my tears and bitterness floods my mouth as I confront him with the truth he can’t escape. “You just ruined my life! You fucking sired me and now I wonder if it was your plan all along when you healed me.” He growls his own anger showing at my words.

“Was it you who gave her those photos?” I scream, my fingers curling into fists, wanting to strike, to hurt, to unleash the storm within me.

He is the only one who would have had a chance to take them.

How else would she have them? “Were you bored and wanted to humiliate me?” The sob that follows cuts through the tension, a raw sound that bares my soul to the man who stands before me, the man whose actions have unfurled my world.

Zayn’s face hardens, his jaw set in a defiant line as he grabs my wrists, halting my assault.

His grip is firm yet careful, trying to contain the rage without causing more damage by unleashing his.

“Cleo, listen to me,” he begins, his voice low, a growl simmering beneath the surface, “everything you’re thinking—it’s wrong. I could never—”

“Let go of me!” I wrench my arms away, stumbling back against the cold brick wall. It scrapes against my skin, a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside me. “How can I believe anything you say when everything since you came into my life has gone to shit?”

Tears blur my vision as I try to back away from Zayn, the sting of betrayal burning hotter than the humiliation on my cheeks.

“No, that wasn’t me, Cleo, I swear…” His voice cracks with desperation, his hands reaching out then retreating as if he’s afraid to touch me—afraid I’ll shatter.

“Then explain it! Explain everything!” My demand is a scream, raw and ragged, slicing through the tension between us. “Where is Deacon? Where did those photos come from!?”

Zayn’s jaw clenches, his gray eyes stormy with emotions I can’t decipher. “Who the fuck cares where Deacon is, he isn’t here is he!”

“Is that what this is, part of what? Is this some game to you?” My body trembles, anger and fear wrestling within me.

“Why the fuck have you been stalking me? Everywhere I turn you are there, getting in my business, knowing the conflict you’re causing me,” I press him, my voice cracking under the strain.

“I may be sired to you, but you’re a full-blooded Alpha.

You have your aura, you can reject the sire bond, order me away!

” My words are a challenge, thrown into the space that divides us.

“Was this your plan all along?” I’m shouting now, my vision narrowing until there’s only Zayn who listens to my outburst calmly and the whirlwind of my thoughts.

“You hate my father! I feel so fucking stupid, naive! I should have known better than to trust you!” Grief morphs into fury, and I growl, claws slipping from my fingertips.

He steps forward, his presence commanding even as his voice softens. “Cleo, I could never use you as a pawn against your father.”

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I search for an answer, any form of relief that might explain the madness crashing down around me.

“You’re a liar!” I spit at him, and something seems to snap in him because Zayn becomes a storm, his fury encapsulating him like a cloak, and when he reaches out, his fingers encase my jaw with a grip that’s both commanding and careful.

“Where is Deacon?” The low growl emanating from Zayn carries a weight that drops my heart to my stomach. It rumbles with barely restrained anger, threatening to unleash and break me further.

His steely eyes lock onto mine, the gray hue swirling like the tumultuous clouds that forewarn of a violent storm. In our bubble of intensity, the world around us fades, the escaping crowds from the stadium become nothing more than a distant murmur, background noise.

“Right where he belongs,” Zayn continues, his thumb brushing against my cheek as if to soften the harshness of his hold. Confusion knots inside me, trying to make sense of what feels like a puzzle missing half its pieces.

I blink away tears that threaten to fall, not just from fear or frustration, but from the raw emotion Zayn invokes within me. My heart races, pounding against my ribcage, each beat crying out for something I can’t quite understand.

His hands still hold my face. “The photos?” he breathes out, and his voice is a blend of hurt and disbelief. “You really think I had any part in that? Cleo, you know me better than that.” His eyes sear into mine, twin infernos of sincerity. “I would never expose what’s mine to the damn city.”

My heart hammers against my ribs, threatening to burst from the sheer intensity of his stare. Zayn has always been possessive, his protective instincts primal and sometimes overwhelming. But this? This accusation strikes a chord too deep, too raw even for him.

His thumb caresses my jaw, and the gesture feels like both a plea and a promise. “And why haven’t I pushed you away, broken the sire bond? Because I love you, Cleo. I love you with a ferocity that frightens even me.”