Chained By The Alpha Jessica Hall

Book 2 Chapter 24

~Maya~

The pounding on my door echoes through the empty halls of my once-grand mansion, each thud a reminder of how far I've fallen. My heart races as I hear Vance's voice, deep and commanding, on the other side

"Maya, open up or I swear I'll break it down!"

With a growl rumbling in my throat, I yank the door open, coming face to face with Vance's towering form. His gray eyes flash to his wolf briefly, and for a moment, I'm caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze when his eyes move behind me which makes me remember I can't let him see inside

I step forward quickly, pulling the door shut behind me. "What do you want, Vance?" I snarl, trying to mask my panic with anger

He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he shoves the wad of cash into my hand, his fingers brushing against mine for a brief second. The touch sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine

"No, take it," I protest, attempting to push it back at him. But Vance is immovable, his broad chest like a wall before me, he looks down at my hand but doesn't move to take the cash fisted in

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Instead he turns, and his eyes drift toward my yard, taking in the overgrown wilderness that was once a meticulously manicured lawn

Weeds tangle with unkempt grass, reaching towards the peeling paint of the mansion's

exterior, strangling the rose bushes that barely bloom anymore

"What's with the jungle, Maya?" he asks, his brow furrowing. "This place looks like it hasn't seen a groundskeeper in months."

I glance back, really seeing the state of disrepair for the first time. How long has it been since I've paid attention to the outside of the house? The sight of my childhood home slowly being reclaimed by nature twists something inside me, I shake it off, but welcome the change in topic

Maybe I can slip the money in his pocket?

"T... I've been busy," I mutter, hating how weak my excuse sounds

Vance's eyes narrow, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He's putting pieces together, and I'm terrified of what picture they

might form

"Let me help you," he says, his voice softer now

"LT can clean this up for you."

"I don't need your help, Vance. I don't need anyone's help. Just leave me alone." I try to force the money in his hand hoping he'll leave

Vance shakes his head, his jaw set. He shoves the crumpled wad of cash back into my hand

"Take it, Maya. I don't want your money." His voice is firm, brooking no argument

The weight of the money in my palm feels like a hot coal, burning with shame and anger. I can't accept this - won't accept this. It goes against everything I've fought so hard to maintain

"And I don't want your damn help!" I hiss, trying to shove it back at him, but he doesn't

budge. My heart races, a mixture of frustration and fear coursing through my veins. Why can't he just leave me alone?

"Let me help you with this," Vance says, gesturing to the overgrown yard. "I'll clean it up

We'll call it even then." His face is serious, but there's a warmth in his eyes that makes my chest tighten

I want to refuse, to push him away like I've done with everyone else. But exhaustion weighs heavily on me. I cross my arms annoyed. "That makes no sense," I retort, my voice sharper than T intend

Vance's expression softens, the hard lines of his face easing slightly. "To me, it does," he says, his tone gentler now. "I get to help you, and this way, I know you aren't running back to that

club." There's an undercurrent in his words, something that sounds dangerously close to caring

My heart rate quickens, a mix of anger and something else I can't quite name. How dare he assume he knows what's best for me? And yet, a tiny part of me aches at the thought that someone might actually care

I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting back the urge to lash out. I want to tell Vance to leave, to mind his own business, but the words stick in my throat