With a final piercing look, I retrieve Cleo’s bag, sling it over my shoulder, and leave.
Chapter 29
• Cleo •
Nervously, I pace, waiting for Zayn to return, and find out what my father said to him after I spoke to him. Zayn said we would speak when he is home, and I didn’t want to try to mindlink him when he is driving or call him; he would already be angry, I don’t need to be another distraction. However, the longer I wait, the more unsettled I become. Every echo from the hallway makes me jump. The silence is oppressive, like a heavy blanket smothering me. I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to dampen the tremors that ripple through them.
Surely my father won’t expect me to marry Boyd after learning Zayn is my mate?
Then I hear it - the soft click of the door. My heart leaps, lodging itself in my throat as I whirl around. Zayn strides in, his face full of fury.
“Cleo,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly from contained rage. He halts as he takes in my worried expression, a fraction of his anger fading away as he reaches out to caress my cheek soothingly.
His gray eyes meet mine, flashing with an intensity that takes my breath away. I stare back, hoping his anger is only directed at the situation and not me.
“I talked to him.” His voice is hushed. He shrugs off my bag from his shoulder and places it gently on the wooden table near the door, his every move radiating quiet command.
“What did he say?” My voice trembles at the edges despite my best efforts to mask my anxiety. The apprehension gnaws at me, festering into something much more dangerous, something almost akin to fear.
Zayn moves toward me, his black hair falling messily over his eyes. He halts in front of me and reaches out for my hand placing it over his heart, and I don’t like the look he is giving me, like he is worried what he says next will rip the rug right out from under me.
“He told me that Dane already owns the pack. And marrying Boyd is the only way to ensure it remains with your family.” His words are measured and calm, but they hit me like a punch to the gut.
I process this revelation. We’re going to lose the pack.
I shake my head vehemently, “I won’t do it, Zayn,” My voice wavers betraying my terror. “I won’t marry him.”
His expression remains unruffled, his eyes hold an intense flame when he replies. “You won’t have to, Cleo. Nor would I allow that.” His hand, warm against the small of my back, pulls me close. His scent envelopes me, wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. “I will fix this,” he promises yet how can he when it’s already gone and my refusal to marry Boyd ensures that? “How?”
“By proving it was never his to give away.” My brows pinch in confusion.
“That’s not all, though. I saw Vance on my way home. I have a plan; two in fact, just in case the first one fails, but I’m worried how you’ll react.”
My heart pounds in my chest, a dull throb of unease resonating in my veins. This feels dangerous, like skirting the edge of a cliff with nothing but a blindfold to guide you.
“Zayn,” I began hesitantly, “what are you saying?”
“Plan A,” he says, disregarding my apprehension with a wave of his hand. “We challenge Dane’s claim to the pack, prove your mother never signed it over to your father, meaning it falls to you. If we can prove your father manipulated or lied to acquire it, then we can take it back.”
I shake my head, disbelieving. I can’t even entertain the idea. Zayn said it himself, his father never would have gone to witness it if my mother hadn’t signed it over.
“Plan B,” Zayn continues, his voice steady and sure even as doubt gnaws at me from the inside out. “If we can’t beat him fairly, then we use Vance.”
“And that is?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes flash ominously under the dim light of the room. “Vance,” he says simply. What’s his brother got to do with this?
“He’s your brother,” I gasp out in disbelief, horror knotting itself in my stomach. That Zayn could consider risking Vance seemed unthinkable and also beyond me, what could he possibly do?
“He’s not just my brother, Cleo,” he tells me, only managing to confuse me further. “He’s yours,” Zayn tells me. I scoff.
“Wait, you think we are related, ew. No,” I tell him. Did he hit his head? Mates aren’t mated to family members, geez. I’m pretty sure the moon goddess has limits too, incest nope! I’ve never heard of mates being relatives! Zayn snorts. “We aren’t related, Cleo.”
“Well, duh!” I blink at him.
“Your father is Vance’s father. Vance is only my half-brother; we share a mother. You and Vance share a father,” heexplains, dumbing it down like I am five years old, and honestly, I’m thankful for that because what he said initially went way over my head.
“Wait, what?” My mind stutters to a halt, snagging on the implications. The room spins, and suddenly the air seems thinner. “You’re joking,” I stammer.
