Chained By The Alpha By Jessica Hall

“How many people are here, Blake?” Zayn asks, and he turns around. Only now he has a child in his arms. She clings to the shirt Zayn had given him, though the jumper she now wore, it swallows her small frame

“This is Piper, my sister.” My brows raise, and I look at Zayn, who seems to come to the same conclusion: if our roles were reversed, we would have all done the same thing, especially when looking into the eyes of a child. Piper appears to be about 9 years old; her blonde hair is matted with mud, grass, and twigs

“Roughly 70 of us are here.”

“All from Alpha Joseph’s pack?” Zayn asks

Blake shrugs, looking at one of the other men. A man with salt and pepper hair comes closer; he’d have to be the oldest here. “No, some of us are from Alpha Samuel and Alpha Dean’s pack; very few, the majority are from Joseph’s,” he answers

I tilt my head to the side, looking at the man in front of me. He appears to be in his fifties, with salt and pepper hair and deep wrinkles etched into his face. His eyes are a piercing blue. There is something about him that seems familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on it

“You look like your mother, Cleo,” he tells me, and my brows pinch, and I worry they would hate me for what my father did to them

“We’ve been biding our time on returning when you’d have your pack,” he tells me, and I chew my lip

“You’re from my mother’s old pack?” he nods slowly

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“I was one of her Beta’s, Beta Noah,” he answers, and my heart breaks. That means he was one of the people closest to her that she trusted. Trusted to keep her safe when recognition smashes like a ton of bricks, how had I not wondered what happened to him?

“You saved me that day,” I tell him, and he smiles sadly

“She’d never have forgiven me if I saved her over you,” he nods once and tears prick the comers of my eyes as I nod. Yet, I wonder if he’d change his mind now after living like this for so long. I look at Zayn. “Please, we can’t leave them here,” I tell him

“We aren’t; I have nowhere to place them; my

pack is already overcrowded, but I will call Greyson,” he tells me, wandering off and pulling his phone from his pocket. I move toward Blake

“Oh right, I will take you to my mother,” I shake my head

“No need to, we believe you. But tell her to pack what she needs,” I tell him. Blake stares at me

“Zayn is organizing to take you all back with us

He’s calling Alpha Greyson.”

“Alpha Greyson?” The man steps forward, Beta Noah. I turn to him, nodding

“You don’t like Alpha Greyson?” I ask

“No, we do. Your mother was his mate. We were all supposed to be merging packs when they got together until your father’s mate

intervened.” “What?” I gasp in shock

“Alpha Greyson was your mother’s true mate, not your father; she was going to merge packs, and we would have become one pack. Linda apparently carried on about that; she didn’t want that. Your mother agreed to let him and Linda keep her pack and only take those of us who wanted to leave with her and take you.” Beta, Noah tells me

“How many are from the original pack?”

“Most of us, but we never had a chance to merge. The same day she signed the pack over to your father, Linda had her killed. Those who refused to submit were cast out, which is all of us

Zayn nods, pulling out his phone with swift fingers. He moves away just enough for privacy, but I still catch snippets of urgency in his tone

There’s no time for pleasantries, not when lives hang in the balance

Minutes stretch into an eternity until Greyson’s SUV kicks up dust on the horizon. When he steps out, his expression turns somber, mirroring our own shock as he takes in the squalor before him

Zayn and he shake hands, and Greyson looks over at me, “Please tell me you can take them.”

“We have enough space and housing, but I will need to screen them,” he murmurs. Zayn goes to say something, but Greyson looks at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take them all; I know your pack is overcrowded since you took in that last pack.” Greyson tells him, and I look at Zayn, but he doesn’t elaborate on what Alpha Greyson mentioned, I’d have to ask him about it later

“Thank you, Alpha Greyson,” I breathe out, relief flooding through me, though it can’t wash away the sorrow etched into the faces around us

“Let’s get those buses arranged,” Zayn commands his men who start moving to help pull down tents, and Greyson nods, already dialing numbers and issuing orders with the authority that comes from years of leadership

The commotion stirs the commune, drawing curious, wary faces from their shelters. Eyes wide with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, they watch as salvation rolls in on wheels buses that promise warmth, safety, and a future

“Come on,” Zayn yells out, his voice louder than I anticipated, carrying across the broken ground

“There’s room for everyone. You’re safe now.”