Chained By The Alpha Jessica Hall

The tension in the air is palpable, a dangerous energy that makes my skin crawl. Deacon's voice is barely recognizable, his words slurred and filled with a malicious intent that I never thought him capable of. The sense of betrayal cuts deep, leaving me feeling cold and hollow inside

"Deacon," I whisper weakly. My vision blurs as fear creeps in while I wait to wake up from this nightmare. It has to be a nightmare, Deacon would never. Once again, my eyes flutter shut, though my mind screams for me to wake "Stop, Deacon," I manage to say when I hear the unmistakable sound of his zipper. The dark haze encircling my mind is suffocating, like a vice

grip around my consciousness

"Don't be such a prude," Deacon growls, his voice cruel and unfamiliar. "Two years, Cleo, and we still haven't fucked. So Lydia gave you a little something to help you relax."

Lydia, I know I've heard the name before but can't place it as my mind is overrun with the

foreign feel of my body. Deacon pulls my underwear down

I can feel him moving my limbs like Iam a puppet, and he is the puppeteer, and the next second, bright light sears my eyes and then again and again. I hear the distant sound of laughing, but I am struggling to remain conscious

"You better keep your fucking word," I think I hear, but I can't be sure when the flash goes off

again. The ceiling swirls when I see a phone before another flash that blinds me

I struggle to keep my eyes open, to fight against the darkness that threatens to engulf me. Each flash from the phone is like a physical assault, disorienting and terrifying. I want to scream, to run, to do anything but lie here helplessly, but my body betrays me, refusing to respond to my desperate commands

Tears form in my eyes, but my body remains unresponsive to my desperate pleas for it to move, to do anything. My heart pounds in my chest as the gravity of the situation settles upon me, making it even harder to breathe

"Deacon?" I slur, wanting him to get me out of whatever is going on

Deacon's laugh 1s cruel and mocking, a sound

that sends shivers down my spine. "You're mine," he slurs, his words dripping with possessiveness. "I've waited long enough for this."NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Suddenly, the door of the wagon 1s ripped open

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"What the fuck, man," I hear a voice say

"She said no!" someone snarls, but I can't see them; my eyelids are now too heavy to open, but whoever it 1s, his voice carries an authority that sends shivers down my spine. Yet, I know that voice from somewhere. I'm sure of it

My heart races, pounding against my rib cage as if trying to escape the nightmare unfolding around me. I can hear the sounds of a scuffle, the grunts and shouts muffled as if coming from underwater

"Whoa, calm down, man! You can have a go

after me," Deacon retorts. It's Deacon! My mind tries to zero in on the other voice. It's a voice of power, of control, and it stirs something within me, a flicker of hope in the darkness

The sound of a struggle intensifies, the thuds and crashes reverberating through the wagon. I can sense the violence, the raw aggression of the confrontation, but I'm powerless to intervene

My eyes flutter shut again, the effort to keep them open too much for my drugged body

The darkness is all-consuming now, a suffocating void that seems to stretch on endlessly. I'm lost in it. I can feel myself slipping away, the edges of my consciousness fraying and dissolving into nothingness

Then, suddenly, a burst of light pierces the darkness, followed by a loud crash. The wagon

shakes violently, the sound of rattling glass and groaning metal filling the air

There's a final, decisive thud, and then silence

The oppressive weight of the situation lifts slightly, the air no longer thick with the threat of violence. I can sense someone else in the wagon now, a presence that is both comforting and terrifying in its intensity

Gentle hands lift me, cradling me with a tenderness that is in stark contrast to the brutality of moments ago. I can feel the warmth of the person holding me, a sense of safety that I cling too desperately

"You're safe now," the voice murmurs, its tone soft and reassuring. "I've got you, Cleo. You're safe."

I want to believe those words, to let them wash

over me and take away the fear and pain. But the darkness is too strong, pulling me back under with an irresistible force. I surrender to it, letting it envelop me completely, the last remnants of consciousness fading away into oblivion