Chained to the Enemy Alpha
Chapter 39: Ghosts of The Past

Chapter 39: Chapter 39: Ghosts of The Past

“Alpha,” A young messenger came up to Zayn, voice barely above a whisper. “Lady Talia has arrived on the pack grounds. She’s at the infirmary.”

Zayn’s fingers froze around his glass.

Talia.

He hadn’t heard that name in years.

He set the glass down quietly and straightened. “Excuse me, Your Majesty. I have an important matter I must attend to.”

Alpha King Dace waved him off with a hearty laugh, already reaching for another drink. “Go on.”

Zayn gave a short bow and turned sharply on his heel, walking out before anyone could stop him.

His chest felt tight as he made his way to the infirmary. His steps were quick and heavy.

Talia.

The last time he’d seen her, she was barely a teenager, trailing after her sister with nervous smiles and wide, hopeful eyes, She was so eager to be part of their world, yet still clinging to the safety of childhood.

That was when her sister, his mate, was still alive.

A flash of memory hit him.

Irene’s laughter, soft and unbothered. She sat by the riverbank with her sleeves rolled up, fingers weaving through Talia’s hair with practiced ease.

Sunlight danced on the water, but it was her face that had him in a trance.

The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. The way her nose scrunched when she teased him for hovering too close.

“Back off, you’re making her nervous,” she’d said, laughing, even as she gave him that look, full of warmth and love.

Talia had giggled, barely more than a child, too focused on the braid to notice the way her sister’s hand jerked when Zayn stole a kiss in passing.

Her touch, her scent, her presence.

The way the world slowed down around her. Her presence anchored him, kept him grounded.

But now, there was only silence.

Zayn clenched his jaw, shoving the memory deep down. He couldn’t afford to drown in it now.

He pushed open the ward doors. And there she was.

Standing at the far end of the ward, checking over a patient, her braid swinging lightly with every move.

“Talia!” He called.

Then she turned, spotted him, and her whole face lit up.

"Zayn!" she cried, rushing toward him.

For a moment, he couldn’t move or breathe. It was like seeing a ghost. Talia and Irene shared similar facial features.

Talia threw herself into his arms without hesitation.

Zayn caught her instinctively, pulling her in, his throat tightening painfully.

"Look at you," Talia laughed, pulling back just enough to study his face. "Still broody. Still way too serious."

Zayn smirked faintly. "And you’re still too loud."

She laughed again, a real, warm sound, one that tugged painfully at his chest. .com

But after a moment, her smile dimmed. She dropped her gaze, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

"I’m sorry," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "For not doing more. When you were—when they—"

She shook her head, frustrated. "I wanted to help. I did. But mum and dad said it was too dangerous. I-"

Zayn reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Talia," he said quietly. "None of it was your fault."

Talia’s chin trembled slightly. Her hands clenched into fists.

"I used to pray every night," she whispered. "That somehow you and the others would find your way back. That Irene would—"

She broke off, swallowing hard.

Zayn dropped his hand. Talia wiped her eyes quickly.

"You and Irene... you were everything back then. You were home."

Zayn inhaled sharply, steadying himself. Home.

A word that felt like an open wound.

"You’re still here," he said after a moment. "That’s enough for me."

Talia gave a shaky smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, kid," Zayn said, voice softer than he meant it to be.

Talia laughed weakly. "I’m not a kid anymore."

Zayn ruffled her hair lightly, making her squeak and swat his hand away, just like old times.

"No," he said quietly. "You’re not."

They stood there for a moment longer. Two people carrying too many memories, so much loss, trying to find something whole between the cracks.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said after a moment, voice rough. “We’ve got too many wounded and not enough people we can trust.”

Talia straightened, brushing her sleeves down. “Good. Because I’m not leaving until everyone gets better. No matter what.”

Zayn gave a small nod, feeling some of the weight ease from his chest. He looked over Talia’s shoulder for a moment. He couldn’t see who she had been caring for before he came in.

Curious, he asked, “Who’s the patient you were tending to before I came in?”

“Come,” she said without hesitation, already motioning for him to follow.”

Zayn frowned but followed without questioning, weaving through the narrow space between the cots.

Talia led him straight to the far corner of the room—where Lily lay, pale and weak under a threadbare blanket.

Zayn stiffened slightly when he saw her. He pulled Talia back, forcing her to face him.

“Do you know who she is?” He asked, surprised.

Talia sat down beside Lily’s bed, glancing up at him.

"I was tending to her when you came in."

Lily blinked up at them both, confusion flickering across her face.

Zayn stared at Talia for a long moment.

"Do you know who she really is?" he asked carefully, voice low.

Talia nodded without hesitation. "I know exactly who she is."

Lily tensed, pulling the blanket up higher as fear flashed in her eyes.

But Talia just smiled gently at her, then shot Zayn a pointed look.

"And that’s why I stayed.”

Zayn blinked, caught off guard by her tone.

He hadn’t expected Talia to even glance Lily’s way, much less sit by her like they were familiar.

Lily’s stomach twisted painfully. She looked between them, her heart racing. What was Talia going to do now? Would she turn away? Would she hate her too?

But Talia simply stood, crossing her arms. Her gaze hardened.

"What really happened to her?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to make a few healers glance over.

Zayn stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

"The wounds," Talia said, pointing at Lily. "Her back is torn to pieces and barely stitched. Her wounds were all infected. Is this how you run your pack now, Zayn?"

Zayn’s jaw tightened. "I didn’t—"

"Or did you do this to her yourself?" Talia cut in, stepping right up to him.

"Is that it?"

Lily’s eyes widened in horror.

She pushed herself up on shaky arms and grabbed at Talia’s sleeve.

‘No!’ she mouthed desperately, shaking her head.

Talia looked between them, studying Lily’s pleading expression and Zayn’s rigid posture.

Her mouth twisted in frustration.

He looked... stunned that Lily was protecting him.

“She’s not her father,” Talia said, voice calmer but firm. “She’s not the man who ruined all our lives. And she’s been treated like an animal.”

Zayn didn’t respond right away. His gaze moved to Lily, and for a long second, he just looked at her.

He saw the pale skin under her fresh bandages. The way she curled into herself and the bruises that hadn’t even started to fade.

Still, Talia wasn’t ready to back down.

She looked at Zayn, her jaw set.

“You need to see for yourself,” she said firmly, then turned to Lily, her voice softening.

“Lily... is it alright if I show him?”

Lily blinked at her, startled. Her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket.

“I won’t do anything without your permission,” Talia added gently. “But he needs to understand.”

There was a pause—long, hesitant. Then Lily gave a small nod.

Talia reached out, slow and careful.

“I’m just going to lift your shirt, okay?”

She waited again.

Lily nodded once more, her body tense, but she didn’t pull away.

Talia sat on the edge of the cot and gently lifted the hem of Lily’s shirt from the back, undoing the loosely wrapped bandages.

Angry, raw gashes lined Lily’s back, some still red and inflamed. A few were stitched clumsily, others already scabbing, and several spots showed signs of infection that had only just begun to ease under Talia’s care.

Thin bruises covered the skin between them—scratch marks, lash marks.

Zayn stumbled back a step like she’d punched him in the gut. He sucked in a sharp breath, his stomach twisting violently.

For a split second, he wasn’t standing in the infirmary anymore.

He was a slave again. Shackled and bleeding out under a whip. With no one coming to help.

The smell of old blood and decay burned in his nose.

The sound of his own breathing was ragged and desperate.

Zayn closed his eyes, forcing the memory away.

When he opened them, he didn’t hesitate. He turned toward the nearest healer, his voice cold and firm.

"Get fresh bandages. Hot water. And bring a real healer—."

He was already reaching for his mind-link, ready to summon more help, when Talia’s hand caught his arm.

"Don’t," she said firmly, her voice steady.

He froze, frowning down at her.

“I’ll take care of her if you will allow me,” Talia said. “Personally. I don’t trust others. They have already left her to die once.”

Zayn studied her for a moment.

Talia, who had once followed him around like a little sister, had grown up into someone fierce.

He exhaled slowly.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll allow it.”