Chained By The Alpha Jessica Hall

My eyes dart around the room, searching for something to use as a weapon if need be. With a shaky breath, I wipe away the tears clinging to my lashes and stand, opening the door cautiously

"Dad," I breathe out in surprise as I find my father standing there. My father stands before me, his normally stoic expression now softened with concern. His eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. I take a deep breath, my heart racing. I can feel my tears welling up as I take a step forward and wrap my arms around my fatherContent protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

He hugs me back tightly, and I feel a wave of emotion wash over me, half expecting him to

shove me away, yet growing up, there was no place I felt safer than on his shoulders or in his arms. That was until all this mess since that stupid Alpha meeting. When I step back, he holds up a bag of Chinese food

"Hungry?" he asks, and his stern face softens slightly when he sees me. His graying hair and tired eyes give him an air of vulnerability I've never seen before

"Cleo," he says gently, his voice betraying his own hurt. I nod and he passes me the bag. He sits down next to me, and we eat in silence

After a moment, he says, "I'm sorry," and his voice cracks with emotion

"What are you doing here?" The question tumbles from my lips unbidden, my defenses crumbling in the face of his unexpected presence

"I saw Zayn banging on the window of your room, Cleo, so I figured I'd check on you," he replies, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "I came to make sure you're alright." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I really didn't mean to interrupt you, especially after... But I knew you wouldn't take my calls, and Zayn won't let you near me. I Just wanted to make sure everything was ok." He smiles weakly, his expression a mixture of guilt and something else

"Well, I'm sure you see that I'm not?" The words burst forth, raw and accusing. "Everything I believed in has been shattered. I don't know

whom to trust anymore."

"Trust me," Dad says softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I know what's best for you."

"Is that why you banished me?" I ask him. He drops his head, looking ashamed

"T did that out of anger, I never should have, Cleo. By the time I came to my senses and returned you were gone, you went with him."

"Zayn said he was trying to protect me," I murmur, the weight of my uncertainty heavy in my voice

"Zayn has his own agenda, Cleo," my father replies, his grip on my shoulder tightening

"You need to focus on what's best for you and our pack."

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"How can I do that when I don't even know what's true?" The desperation 1n my voice is palpable, the ache in my heart unbearable

"Give it time," my father advises, pulling me

into a tight embrace. His familiar scent washes over me, bringing with it a sense of comfort and safety that I haven't felt in so long. "Things will become clear eventually."

After a few moments, I reluctantly let him go

"How did you get past Zayn's man downstairs?" T ask him

"Knocked him out," I place my hands on my hips

"Really, Dad?" he shrugs

"T put him in the garden, it's not like I left him on the stairs to be trampled." I roll my eyes, and he moves to the small kitchenette and grabs some forks before handing me a plastic dish full of Chinese. "So are you going to tell me what you and Zayn were arguing about?" he asks, and I shrug; I don't trust anyone right now, least of

all the men in my life, and that means my father, especially after learning about the rogues my father banished

But at the same time, he is my father, and I know he loves me in his own way. Even if he struggles to convey that, especially now that I am older

The dim light of the room casts shadows on my father's face, highlighting the deep lines etched into his forehead. I can see the weariness in his eyes, but there's also a glint of determination that I've always admired

"Tell me everything," he says, his voice low and firm. I take a shaky breath, preparing myself for the tough conversation ahead

"Zayn showed me this video," I begin, my heart racing as I recount the events from earlier, but

keeping out the part where Zayn killed him, instead telling him Zayn scared him off, I don't know why I don't share that info, I just can't bring myself to throw Zayn under the bus for murder. As I speak, my father listens intently, his expression unreadable

"Deacon was trying to hurt you?" he asks, his brow furrowing with concern

"Zayn claims he was protecting me," I reply, frustration lacing my words. "But I don't know what to believe anymore." My hands tremble as I clench them into fists, tears threatening to spill over once more

"Sweetheart," my father says gently, reaching out to touch my arm. His calloused fingers feel rough against my skin, yet oddly comforting. "I understand your confusion, but you need to trust yourself. What does your gut tell you?"

"Everything is so tangled," I admit, my voice cracking. "I want to believe Zayn, but I can't shake this feeling that there's more to the story."