Alpha Biker's Little Mate

Chapter 1

Sofia

I force my leg to stop shaking under the table and yank the front lapels of my jacket close. I try not to look suspicious with my fidgety self. I sneak a glance around the old-style pub, I decided to crash in with my minimal stuff.

I clutch the strap of my bag and pull it close. There are a few people present in the pub since it's 11:30 at night. A drizzle has also started outside. It has been over fifteen minutes since I have been sitting here in the chair, sunk with only a glass of water and ginger ale.

I have been too tense to do anything. I haven't even taken a single sip from any of the liquids sitting on the table. I release a deep breath and allow my eyes to fall shut, but the moment I do, the snippets from my past, which I am not sure if it's too early to address as such, start floating in front of my eyes, paralysing me.

My eyes fling open, and I inhale sharply, filling my lungs with a large amount of oxygen as if I were drowning underwater.

I clench my fists resting on my knees.

No, this won't do. I need to snap out of it. I haven't eaten anything except two sandwiches all day. I am hungry, and my stomach is aching.

I stand up to place my order at the bar. My shoulders feel heavy when I walk up to the bar. I feel as if I am carrying tons of weight on my head and chest.

It feels like someone is chasing me, and they probably are.

I unclench and clench my hand, smiling awkwardly at the old guy wiping glasses.

"Umm, I would like to order food," I say awkwardly.

"Yeah, what would you like?" He grunts, flashing me his silver tooth.

"I would like a burger and a grilled meat plate." I choose after reading the menu.

"Coming right up." He answers and moves to the open kitchen behind him, leaving the glasses.

I smile and stretch my hand to put the menu back on the counter, but when I retract my hand, the crystal glass decanter that the bartender had just set aside after wiping it clean drags along with me and succumbs to gravity, crashing to the floor.

A horrified gasp escapes my chest as I quickly step back on reflex, watching the mess I just made.

Oh my god!

I watch the tiny crystals and glass shards scatter around on the floor. The loud crash attracts everyone's attention to me and the broken decanter.

"For Christ's sake. What did you do, lady?" The bartender yells, slamming the towel-like cloth on the counter and walking around the bar with hurried steps.

"I-It happened by m-mistake." I am already reduced to tears when he holds his head and stares back and forth between the dead decanter and me.

His own face becomes a slate of extreme worry.

I can feel the others' stares pricking the back of my head. I turn around and see the kids at the table standing and craning their necks to take a look at the mess I made.

"Do you even realise what you just did?" The bartender snaps, glaring at me. "It's the most expensive decanter we have in the bar. It was luxurious, handpicked by the owner!" He yells, and my shoulders cower out of habit.

From inside, I am trembling. A luxurious crystal decanter must cost too much. I don't have that much money on me. I can never scrape that much!

"I really am sorry, sir. I was just putting the menu, and when I was withdrawing my hand, the decanter fell because it was sitting close to the edge---

He cuts me off with a loud scoff. "Now, now, are you trying to pin the blame on me?" He snides, watching me with harsh eyes.

I bite my lower lip and blink the tears away. "No, I am not. I am just telling the truth." I say meekly.

This makes the bartender angrier as he rests both his hands on his waist. "Forget about compensating the price; you should first start by cleaning this mess."

I flinch when he mentions the cleaning. He isn't wrong. I can't pay, so I should probably help with the cleaning, but why do I not want to?

"Bill, you are being too hard on her!" A woman sitting at the table at the back says, calling the bartender out.

So, his name is Bill.

"What do you mean by that, Joanna? The girl can't pay, so the least she can do is clean up the mess." He says, giving me a nasty stare.

"Aren't I right, lady?"

"R-Right." I stutter, not liking the way my body is forcing itself into an autopilot mode like it's used to do this rather than fight back like how my brain wants it to.

"Then what comes after it, Bill? Surely the cleaning is not going to cut it." A man in his fifties asks as I ready myself to clean.

"I don't call the last dibs. The boss will tell, but I am sure it won't end nicely. That decanter cost $700,000."

My eyes nearly pop out of my head after I hear the astronomical amount he declares. Air whooshes out of my lungs, and I clench my fists at my sides.

"Oh, I am so sorry, lady. Your luck was bad that you broke something so pricey." The man says pitifully, pulling his kid, who is standing on the stool, to look at the broken remnants of the decanter.

I am still in shock, and I can't help but think what will happen to me now when the bell chimes and someone walks inside. It's not just one pair of footsteps, so it's probably more people.

I am still in my head, so I don't notice the reaction of the people around me, and when I do, I can't help but turn around.

Bill's spooked face and straightened posture lead me to check who it is. My face breaks into a similar sense of surprise when my eyes land on the three tall, muscular and dangerous men.

My eyes zero in on the black ink stretching from one of their shoulders, bulging muscles on his arms to his wrists. He is smoking a cigarette as he stops before me, wearing a black leather jacket, but he is also wearing a patch, which means he is part of an MC club.

The other man who accompanied him has long black hair and deep blue eyes. He has an easygoing smile on his face, but I can see the danger lurking in it.

The third guy, who has taken out a bottle of vodka from the shelf, has a tattoo on his naked chest and piercings in his ears and lower lip.

A shiver runs down my spine. They are bikers, and members of an MC club. The surprising turn of events one after another are enough to scare me, but I am not prepared for what happens next.

"Boss." Bill stammers, and my lips part with shock.

"What happened here?" The man with the cigarette tucked between his lips asks in a gravelly, deep voice before his eyes fall on the

broken mess on the floor, and then narrows at me.