Chapter 65: A Helping Hand

Words : 1297 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

Here is Chapter 65 of "Chained to the Enemy Alpha": Chapter 65: Chapter 65: A Helping Hand The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed across... Don’t miss it!

Chapter 65: Chapter 65: A Helping Hand The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed across the training field as Zayn circled his opponent. Sweat glistened on his bare chest, his muscles tense and ready to strike. Three warriors already lay defeated on the sidelines, groaning in pain. “Get up,” Zayn growled at the fourth trainee sprawled in the dirt. “The enemy won’t give you time to catch your breath.” The young warrior, barely twenty, struggled to his feet. His lip was bleeding, and he could barely stand straight. Still, he raised his fists, determination blazing in his eyes despite the fear. Zayn didn’t wait. He lunged forward, feinted left, then struck with brutal precision. The warrior crashed to the ground again, this time spitting blood. “Again!” Zayn barked. “That’s enough, Zayn.” Ezra stepped forward from the crowd that had gathered to watch. His voice was firm, the only one who dared challenge the Alpha. Zayn glared at his Beta. “They need to be prepared.” “Not if they’re dead first,” Ezra replied quietly. He gestured toward the fallen warrior whose friends were now helping him up. “Take a break, everyone. Fifteen minutes.” The trainees scattered quickly, grateful for the reprieve. Ezra gripped Zayn’s arm and pulled him aside, away from eager ears. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked in a hushed tone. “You’re supposed to be training them, not beating them senseless.” “I’m toughening them up,” Zayn snapped, shrugging off Ezra’s hand. “Our enemies won’t show mercy.” “This isn’t toughening them up. This is you taking out your frustrations on warriors who can’t fight back.” Ezra’s eyes softened slightly. “I know you’re under pressure, but this isn’t the way.” Zayn’s jaw clenched. “I don’t need your psychoanalysis.” “No, you need to calm down.” Ezra picked up a towel and threw it at him. “Go cool off. I’ll handle the rest of today’s training.” For a moment, Zayn looked ready to argue, but then his shoulders slumped slightly. He wiped sweat from his brow and nodded, stalking away from the training grounds while warriors parted for him like water. Hours later, Zayn sat at the head of the dining table, fingers tapping impatiently on the polished wood. He’d instructed the servants to prepare dinner for two and had sent word for Lily to join him. It had been days since they’d spoken properly, and the memory of her determination in his office yesterday nagged at him. The door opened, and Lily stepped in hesitantly. Her eyes widened slightly at the elaborate table setting. She walked toward him with cautious steps, her hands tucked behind her back. “Sit,” Zayn gestured to the chair at his right. Lily obeyed, keeping her hands under the table. Her gaze darted around, seemingly unsure why she’d been summoned. “You wanted to be useful,” Zayn said bluntly as servants began bringing in food. “I’ve been thinking about that.” Surprise flashed across Lily’s face, followed by hope that she couldn’t quite hide. She nodded eagerly. “But first, we eat,” Zayn said, filling her plate before his own. The meal proceeded in awkward silence. Zayn watched as Lily struggled with her utensils, noticing how she winced every time she gripped her fork. “Show me your hands,” he commanded suddenly. Lily froze. She shook her head quickly, tucking her hands further under the table. Zayn’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t a request.” Reluctantly, Lily placed her hands on the table. They were wrapped in crude bandages, blood seeping through in several places. “What happened?” His voice was low, dangerous. Lily stared at her plate, refusing to meet his gaze. Zayn reached across, grabbed a notepad and pen from a side table, and thrust them toward her. “Explain.” Her fingers trembled as she took the pen. She wrote slowly, painfully: Just some cuts. From helping in the infirmary. Glass broke. Zayn read the note, his expression unreadable. “And you thought hiding this was smart?” Lily scribbled again: Didn’t want to bother anyone. I want to be useful. “By injuring yourself further?” Zayn’s voice rose slightly. He took a deep breath, controlling his temper. “You mentioned wanting to fulfill your duties as Luna yesterday.” Lily nodded vigorously, hope returning to her eyes. “This,” he gestured to her bandaged hands, “isn’t the way. A Luna who can’t even take care of herself can’t take care of a pack.” Her shoulders drooped visibly, and she wrote: I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Something in her dejected posture made Zayn pause. He remembered Ezra’s earlier words about him being too harsh. With a sigh, he softened his tone. “Your title as Luna is currently just that—a title on paper.” Lily’s face fell even further. “But,” he continued, noticing her reaction, “if you want to help, I won’t stop you. I won’t force duties on you that you don’t want, either.” She grabbed the pen eagerly: I want to help. Anything. Any task. Zayn studied her face—the earnestness in her eyes, the determined set of her jaw. It reminded him of someone else, someone he’d lost long ago. He pushed the thought away. “First things first,” he said, standing up and walking to a cabinet. He pulled out a first aid kit. “Those bandages need changing. They’re soaked through.” Lily shook her head, writing quickly: I can do it myself later. “No, you can’t,” Zayn replied flatly. “Not properly. And infection won’t help anyone.” Without waiting for her response, he pulled his chair closer to hers and took one of her hands carefully in his. He began unwrapping the bandages, revealing several deep cuts across her palms and fingers. “You should have gotten these treated properly,” he muttered, cleaning the wounds with antiseptic. Lily flinched at the sting but didn’t pull away. Instead, she watched him work, curiosity in her eyes. Zayn’s touch was surprisingly gentle for someone so powerful. His fingers moved with precision, cleaning each cut thoroughly before wrapping fresh bandages around her hand. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them. “How did this really happen?” he asked quietly, starting on her other hand. Lily hesitated, then wrote with her free hand: Man at infirmary recognized me. Knocked glass from my hand. I cleaned it up. Anger flashed in Zayn’s eyes. “Who?” Lily shook her head firmly, writing: Doesn’t matter. They have reason to hate Brightpaw name. Zayn finished bandaging her second hand in silence, his jaw tight with restrained anger. When he finished, he didn’t immediately let go of her hand. “Your first duty as Luna,” he finally said, “will be learning to communicate better. Writing notes is inefficient.” Lily tilted her head questioningly. “I’ve arranged for a teacher from the Eastern Pack to arrive tomorrow. She’ll teach you proper sign language—not just the basic gestures you use now.” Lily’s eyes widened in surprise, then filled with gratitude. She nodded vigorously. “Second,” Zayn continued, “if someone mistreats you, you report it to me or Ezra. Immediately. I won’t have pack members attacking their Luna, regardless of your origins.” He finally released her hand and sat back in his chair. His eyes met hers, intense and serious. “There’s a full moon coming in two weeks,” he said. “And I need your help.” Lily blinked in surprise, uncertainty crossing her features. What could he possibly need from her—a mute, wolfless girl—during a full moon celebration? Zayn leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. “It’s time the pack sees their Luna standing beside their Alpha. And for that, we have work to do.”

Chapter 65: A Helping Hand

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