Chained By The Alpha Jessica Hall

Book 2 Chapter 8

The time on my phone reads 11:17 AM by the time the rickety old bus grumbles to a stop in front of my mansion. I'm dragging my feet as I step off. The chill morning air is a slap to my already exhausted body. I blink at the unexpected sight of my car parked in the driveway. That's not where I left it. How the heck did it get back here? Confusion muddles my fatigue as I approach, wondering if I am delirious. A mix of relief and dread washes over me, battling with the confusion. Relief because the car's presence means I won't have to walk or catch the bus to work, but dread because it means someone towed it here or broke into it

The unknown of how it got here is unsettling

My heartbeat quickens as I fumble for my keys, trying to piece together how it could have ended

up here

Unlocking it, I place the keys in the ignition and twist, jumping in part shock and part fright at the sound as it starts. Shutting it off, I stare at the car, looking around for a note, anything to tell me how it got here. I find nothing

Shaking my head, I lock it up and climb the steps to the front door. Unlocking the front door, I push it open, only to notice the note slid under the door. Picking it up, I read it

Fixed your car. It's parked outside. Call me if you need anything else. Vance. I read aloud, a frown creasing on my forehead

I crumple the paper in my hand, irritation flaring up. Great, now I owe Vance-Zayn's brother, the Beta who had a hand, albeit indirectly, in Deacon's death. I hate owing anyone, especially

someone connected to that whole mess. Owing someone a favor puts me in a position of vulnerability, where I might be expected to repay at a time that's inconvenient or even dangerous for me. Plus, in this world, favors are rarely given without strings attached, and those strings can easily become chains

Stepping inside the house, the silence is a stark reminder of my isolation. The mansion, too large and too empty for just me, the place echoes with the lonely sounds of my footsteps

My stomach growls, reminding me of the more immediate problems-like the fact I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon. I head to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets, hoping to find something to eat. I'm disappointed to find nothing apart from some old bread and some stale vegetables. When I remember the instant noodles in the bottom of the pantry. But as I yank open the cupboard, a

curse escapes me. The packet is torn open, its contents a feast for some unwanted guest. A mouse scampers from the shadows, its beady eyes fixed briefly on mine before it charges at me, I shriek as it darts between my legs and disappears behind the fridge

Anger and frustration boil inside me. Not only do I have to worry about repaying Vance now, but I also need pest control. And with my car back, I need to pay for fuel. Brilliant. I snatch the noodle packet from the shelf, spilling the remaining contents onto the floor. It takes me two seconds to realize that is what the mouse was helping itself to

I consider the mess, my anger seething. I'll have to eat at work. Trevor will no doubt dock it from my tips, sure, but what choice do I have? I can't even afford to fix the pest problem or fill my car's tank, let alone buy groceries right now

With a resigned sigh, I leave the kitchen dumping what's left of the noodles in the trash can and head to my makeshift room by the fire in the living room, my last $10 burning a hole in my pocket. I curl up on the shitty mattress on the floor and stare into the fire that is now only glowing embers. I try to numb my mind to the despair I feel. Later, I tell myself, I'll figure something out

Sleep doesn't come easy, even though my body 1s screaming for it. The mattress on the floor creaks as I toss and turn, my mind racing with the events of the night and the debts I need to settle. Eventually, fatigue wins, pulling me into a restless sleepThis content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

It doesn't last long. A soft rustling sound wakes me up, and I sit up, straining my ears in the dark. The noise comes again, a faint, desperate nibbling sound. I slip out of bed and tiptoe to

the kitchen, where the sunlight spills through the block-out curtains on the window, illuminating the kitchen enough that I can see