I swipe at the papers on my desk, scattering them across my office. I throw the crystal decanter belonging to my father. It crashes against the wall, shattering into shards that reflect my fractured soul.
“Zayn!” Vance’s voice cuts through the chaos, but I’m too far gone. The primal roar that erupts from my chest is not human, it is the sound of a wounded animal, Zarek, pushed to his breaking point.
Overturning the mahogany desk with a strength born of my torment, the polished surface splinters, just like my self-control. Monitors toppled, technology sparking, and the scent of destruction mingles with the musk of my rage.
“Zayn, you have to stop!” Vance attempts to intervene. I’m far beyond reason. My vision blurs red, the world narrowing to the betrayal that sears my every nerve ending. I want to tear apart everything in sight.
“Zayn, listen to me!” Vance grabs my shoulders, his grip firm, grounding. Yet his voice is a distant echo in the eye of the storm that rages within me.
“Look at yourself!” he implores, desperation threading his tone. “This isn’t you. You’re letting it consume you.”
As suddenly as it began, the fury abates and I stand in the ruins of my office. My breaths come in ragged gasps, each one a battle between man and beast.
My gaze locks on the broken glass that litters the floor. “I need to see her. She can’t marry him.”
“Zayn, think about what you’re doing,” Vance says cautiously. “You can’t just barge into Shadowcrest. It’s her father’s territory.”
“Her father fucking sold her again,” I spit out like venom. “He has no right. She is mine—my mate.”
“Then let’s be smart about this,” Vance replies, his voice steady now. “You go in there. You’re just going to scare her,” Vance tries to reason, but I snatch up my phone and try calling her. I keep calling, when she doesn’t answer, I text. “Zayn, stop!” Vance says, reaching for my phone. I snarl at him, and he backs away from me.
Chapter 24
• Cleo •
The next morning
My father promised me an answer today, and all night, I was up trying to find the reasoning behind his decisions and why he needs me to play along, yet I came up empty. The moment Lydia and Linda leave for the day to go Goddess knows where, I go hunting for my father.
I don’t have to search long before I find him in the study. His yelling at someone over the phone is a dead giveaway. My heart sinks when I see his face. He is wearing a serious expression, and I know something is wrong. There’s a faint scent of coffee and cologne lingering in the air, overpowered by the smell of stress and tension emanating from my father. It’s suffocating.
He hangs up when I enter, and I fall into the seat across from him while he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs heavily.
My father’s face is tense and drawn, his brow furrowed with worry. I can see the exhaustion in his eyes, the lines of stress etched into his features. His shoulders sag as he exhales heavily.
“So?” I begin, and he leans back in his chair, his dark eyes watching me. He steeples his fingers under his chin like he istrying to work out where to begin. “You promised me answers,” I remind him, he nods reluctantly. The air is thick with the musty scent of old books and secrets. “Why am I suddenly engaged to Boyd? I don’t understand. Why would you even agree to that in the first place?”
He shuts his laptop screen, a silent signal that he’s giving me his full attention—an act so rare it heightens my anxiety even more.
“Cleo, I know this is a lot to take in, and I wish I could have protected you from it for a little longer. But you’re my heir, and you need to know the truth.” His words hang heavily in the air like an ominous storm cloud, dampening the musty scent of old books and secrets that permeate the room.
“What truth? Why me? Why not Lydia?”
The look that flashes across his face is equal parts pain and fury. It’s gone as quickly as it came. “I should have told you earlier, prepared you better for this day. I was selfish. I wanted to keep you innocent for as long as possible.”
“Wait, how long has this been planned for?”
“Roughly two years now,” he answers, and my brows raise. Two years and he never said anything?
My breath catches in my throat at his admission. My father was never one for displays of affection or vulnerability. The seriousness in his eyes tells me he means every word he says.
He gets up and pours himself a glass of bourbon, gesturing to me with the bottle. I shake my head no; I can’t stomach it right now if my life depended on it. He takes a long swig before placing the glass back down on his desk with a thud that rattles its very foundation.
“Cleo, if your mother was alive, she would have killed me for the mess I’ve made. I’m supposed to keep you safe no matter the cost, and this is part of that. Not only that, I can’t risk thepack.” His voice trembles slightly with emotion, as though even after all these years, losing her still affects him just as much as the day it happened.
“I never wanted this for you, and I will try to find a way out of it.” His voice is gentle, but there’s an undercurrent of steel in it. My hands clench the armrests.
“Your engagement to Boyd was never suggested initially. It is the only way to ensure we don’t lose the pack.” He pauses, rubbing his temples as if to ward off a headache—or perhaps the guilt gnawing at him. “If you back out right now. We will lose the pack, Cleo.”
