My Alphas Are Bikers

Chapter 6: Four Boys, One Choice

—Enzo’s POV—

—FLASHBACK—

The night they made the agreement, the air smelled like smoke and something worse—blood, maybe. Enzo could still remember it, years later. It scratched at the back of his throat and left a bitter, metallic taste, like he’d bitten down on a coin. Some memories stay sharp, no matter how far away they are.

The wind had rushed in from the mountains, wild and cold, carrying a stink that didn’t feel natural. It wasn’t just rot or damp moss. It was older, like the breath of something long dead and buried, sneaking out just long enough to be noticed.

And they noticed. All four of them.

Even before the fire. Even before a single word. They could feel it. No one had to say anything. Their eyes said enough. That night, their eyes looked too deep—like they saw more than just what was in front of them.

They met under the old Ashbourne water tower. The thing looked like it was sinking, its rusted legs bent and straining away from the trees around it. Moss clung to the metal, and streaks of rust ran like dried blood. The clearing around it was barely there. Roots pushed through the dirt. The woods hovered just at the edge, close, but not too close.

They left their bikes in a circle, tires turned outward, red taillights blinking like slow, steady heartbeats. No one said a word.

Even Enzo stayed quiet, and Enzo never stayed quiet. Usually he talked to fill the silence, like he couldn’t stand it. But not tonight. Tonight, something bigger held them still. Something older than teenage anger, older than fear.

The moon was low and bright, covered now and then by slow-moving clouds. Not storm clouds. These moved like they were watching. Like the sky didn’t want to see what would happen next.

Lucien moved first. Always quiet, always there. He leaned against his bike, arms folded, one foot on a rock. Moonlight made his skin look pale, sweat shining along his jaw. A few strands of black hair stuck to his cheek. When he finally spoke, it felt like dropping a stone into a still pond.

"If we don't form this bond," he said, gazing at the rusty barrel in the middle of the clearing, "we'll tear each other apart before we see twenty."

The words hung there, not requiring volume to carry weight. They were true, and they all knew it. Enzo could sense it. In the manner his muscles cramped for action, for brutality. In the manner his skin at times did not seem to fit anymore. In the manner that he'd started waking up in the woods with no memory of how he arrived there.

The change had started in all of them. That month, it had become bone. From metaphor to muscle. Their bodies weren't their own anymore. The animal was waking up. And it grew louder each day.

Daniel let out a humorless laugh, snapping open his silver Zippo with a too-loud click. The flame flickered in the dark depths of his eyes, casting eerie shadows on his face. Around his neck was that chain—thick, tarnished, familiar. It used to belong to his older brother. The one who hadn't made it through the shift.

"So this is it, then?" Daniel growled. "We utter some words, bleed into the ground, and hope it keeps us from rending each other asunder?" His tone dripped with cynicism, but beneath it something shuddered.

"Walk, then," Zane replied, smooth as a blade. He stood on the far side of the circle, one foot on a boulder, flipping a knife between his fingers. His lip curled, as if he knew too much and cared too little. "No gun to your head."

"That's just the thing," Daniel growled. "No one's holding me back."

Enzo stood silent while he watched it all, eyes darting from one face to the next. But beneath his calm lay something churning—hot and heavy and old. He had seen things recently. Not dreams. Not quite. Visions. Shards of a future etched in fire and rent in claws. Brothers bleeding in the dark. Recognizable faces, dead in the dirt. Hands stained red with blood that didn't seem like a stranger's.

He'd seen himself alone in the forest, mouth agape in a scream becoming a howl. Bodies all around him he couldn't bury.

Lucien started the fire. The barrel in the middle of their ring coughed and sputtered to start, not wanting to catch. But the flames caught, burning violently in orange and gold, reflecting dancing light over the faces of the boys. Shadows leaped like spirits rising.

Zane approached first, cutting his knuckles with his knife. The blood flowed quickly, dark and shiny. He held it over the flames, letting it fall like ink into the fire.

"I promise by fang and fire," he recited. "To defend the bond. To defend the pack. To shed blood only when it is required."

The fire spat as the blood hit it.

Lucien followed. His sword was smaller—curved, ceremonial, nearly reverent. He exposed the base of his palm, face impassive as the blood rose up. "I vow," he breathed, eyes clenched, "to serve the wild. To bind what would shatter. To be greater than the beast."

Daniel moved last before Enzo. He froze for too long. Then moved finally, his breathing rough in his chest. He stroked the knife along the edge of his hand—too hard, too quick. The blood flowed freely.

"I promise," he said, voice rough with pain. "Even if I detest it. Even if it kills me."

Enzo was alone now. The flames snapped and crackled behind his motionless form. The aroma of smoke and blood wafted around him, a cloud of incense. Gradually, he moved forward, every step intentional, the heaviness of every step pulling him back to what would soon be.

He didn't glance at the others. He sliced the blade across the flesh of his palm. Not deep. But far enough. The agony brought him down to earth.

"I vow myself to this," he murmured, his tone low and steady. "Until fate itself severs the tie."

The blood dripped. And the fire altered. The flames lunged like they had lungs, like they had teeth. They danced in hues no ordinary fire had any business displaying—first blue, then gold, then both together, twisting and writhing like a living entity.

Zane took a step back. "What the—"

Lucien winced, eyes open. "Did you feel that?"

Daniel didn't respond. His jaw was tight, fists trembling at his sides. Enzo's heart was racing. And then he saw her in his mind, just as if she stood before him. Running barefoot through damp leaves. Her breathing harsh. Blood on her hand. A crescent mark below her collarbone. Hair stuck to her shoulders, eyes flashing like the forest had erupted into flames inside her.

A voice emerged through the trees—female, ancient, integrated into the trees and the darkness. "One girl will bear the mark of the four. She will shatter you… or bind you."

The flames died at once. Smoke swirled into the air like something in flight. Like something afraid of what it had uttered.

Daniel broke it first. "What the actual hell just happened?"

Lucien didn't respond for a moment. Then, "A warning."

"Or a prophecy," Zane replied, still gripping his knife, knuckles pale.

Enzo said nothing. He gazed out at the forest, the trees still moving even though there was no wind. His hands shook now. His wolf was restless. He said nothing to the others of what he saw.

He heard the same voice again in his mind. A mysterious elder wolf warns Enzo—“If you fall first, the blood moon will rise.”