Page 60 of Chained By the Alpha (Claimed Duet #1)
The tension between us simmers, thick and palpable, as we drive the rest of the way in silence. The familiar gates leading into our small, gated community finally come into view, and I feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance at the screen to see Zayn’s name illuminated.
As we pull into the driveway of my family’s home, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the chaos awaiting me. It’s going to be a long night.
“Welcome home, Cleo.” My father’s voice breaks through my reverie as we pull up to the house. It looks just how I remember it; imposing, grand, and yet utterly lifeless.
“Thanks,” I mutter, stepping out of the car onto the concrete driveway and peering up at my childhood home. Despite the familiarity of it all, an unease rolls through me.
I follow my father into the house, my gaze drifting over familiar surroundings. Every portrait hanging on the walls, every piece of furniture seems to whisper my life growing up here—a life that now feels like it belongs to someone else entirely.
The moment we step into the foyer, Lydia and Linda are upon us, their eyes flashing with a mix of shock and anger that I’m back. Linda’s hair is pulled back into a severe bun, and her black dress is pressed and impeccable as always.
She looks like a stern governess from a child’s nightmare, and I can feel her disapproval radiating off her as she stares at my father for an answer. She doesn’t say a thing, but Lydia in her daisy pajamas hasn’t got Linda’s self-control.
“What are you doing here?” she demands, her voice sharp and accusing. “Why are you here?” Her voice is sharp like a whip.
“Lydia,” my father growls, his voice resonating with the authority of an Alpha.
“Watch your tone. Cleo is here because this is her home.”
Her lip curls, unsatisfied. “After everything—”
“Enough!” My father’s snarl cuts through the air. “You’re on thin ice already. Don’t push me further or pack up and go live with your father at Bluesteel.” Lydia’s eyes widen in shock at my father’s harsh words. She looks like she wants to argue but wisely keeps her mouth shut.
I swallow back a mix of emotions, feeling like an outsider in my own home. Linda goes to no doubt back Lydia, yet one growl from Dad shuts her up quickly.
Lydia quickly glances at Linda, and whatever silent communication passes between them, I don’t know, she stomps upstairs, slamming the door behind her.
Linda follows behind her, casting one more disapproving glare over her shoulder.
As soon as the door slams behind them, my father sighs, running a hand through his graying hair.
“I’m sorry about that,” he mumbles, “You know how they can be. Your room is still the same; nothing has changed, your stuff still remains untouched.” I nod.
“Try to rest,” my father suggests, his voice softening. “We’ll speak more tomorrow.”
“Sure.” I nod, though sleep is the last thing on my mind.
My old room awaits me, preserved in time as if it’s a shrine to the girl I once was before everything became so complicated and out of my control.
I push open the door wider and I am greeted by a wave of nostalgia so strong it nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.
I sit on the edge of my bed, tracing the patterns on the quilt with my fingers. The fabric still holds faint scents of lavender and pine—the same scents that used to lull me to sleep. Tonight, they do nothing to calm the storm raging inside me.
I let out a frustrated sigh and lean back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling. Everything is so different now. My room, once my hiding place from Lydia, my safe space, now feels foreign and unfamiliar.
As the night stretches on, I find myself unable to sleep. Every tick of the clock is loud and incessant like its ticking down to when the other shoe will drop. I don’t know who to trust.
I can’t stop thinking about Boyd and the suffocating life I will have if I accept this arranged marriage. A life where I will be nothing more than a pawn in a power play between packs. At least I would be able to take my pack back… or so I try to remind myself.
Deep down, I know it’s not just about reclaiming my pack. It’s about my freedom, my autonomy, and my right to choose who I want to spend the rest of my life with.
I toss and turn in bed, trying to quiet the storm raging inside me.
Closing my eyes, I try to push away these thoughts and focus on finding a solution. Maybe there’s still a way out of this predicament. Maybe Dad will understand and let me get out of it, maybe he has changed.
However, I know that’s just wishful thinking.
The moment our families agreed upon this marriage, it became a matter of honor for both packs.
To back out now would be seen as a weakness and an insult, and I won’t be forgiven for a second time.
How can I marry Boyd, and what will happen if Zayn is, in fact, my mate? I can’t ignore a mate bond.
Unable to sleep, my thoughts continue to swirl around my head like a neverending storm. Every time I close my eyes, I’m bombarded with images of Boyd’s smug face and the thought of being trapped in an arranged marriage.
My phone vibrates again, and this time, I can’t ignore it. Zayn’s message stares back at me, and something within me shatters.
Zayn: Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering?
How can I tell him I’m anything except okay?
I take a deep breath before responding, trying to come up with a way to downplay the situation without lying.
Me: I’m back home.
The word feels foreign on my fingertips as I type it out. A wave of sadness washes over me as I realize this is no longer my home. Not really.
I switch off the phone before I can receive his response, the weight of the world pressing down on me until I’m gasping for air.
As much as I want to run away from all of this, a part of me knows there’s no escaping it. My pack needs me now more than ever, especially with our recent losses. And if there’s any chance of saving them, then I have to play along with this arranged marriage.
But what about Zayn? What if he is telling the truth about us having a mate bond? Does that mean he senses something is wrong? Maybe he does, and that’s why he keeps messaging me.