ALPHA BIKER WHO CLAIMED HIS BROTHER'S MATE

9

MAYA’S POV:

My body was trembling, a violent shudder that started in my knees and raced up to my throat. I wanted to fight—my wolf was scratching at my insides, desperate to bite, to snarl, to tear this man’s throat out. But I was an Omega. I was a weak link in a world of predators, and I knew for certain that he could snap my neck before I even drew blood.

Yet, beneath the fear, that cold, violet-black power held me in a chokehold. It wasn’t scared. It was offended. It pushed against my skin, wanting to explode outward, but I tried my best to hold it down. Rafe didn’t want trouble, and I couldn’t spoil his reputation. So, I prayed to the goddess to send me help before I did something I would regret.

“You’re going to regret this,” I choked out, my cheek pressed painfully against the rough wood of the wall. “I’m with Rafe. He’ll kill you, and you know that.”

The man let out a dark chuckle that sent a wave of nausea through me.

“Rafe is my president, sweetheart. He wouldn’t care if I had a go at one of his hoes. He’s got plenty, and you are nothing special.”

Being referred to as a hoe stung badly. It was even more painful than his grip because, a few hours ago, a man like this wouldn’t even dare speak to me like that.

Before I could say a word, I felt the man’s weight being lifted off my body. I turned instantly to see Rafe’s fist connected to the man’s face. It remained there as the sound of something breaking hung in the air. The biker hit the floor, and Rafe was on him in a heartbeat.

“You’re right about one thing,” Rafe growled in a loud voice that shook the club. “I am your president. But you’re dead wrong about the rest. She isn’t a hoe. She is protected. And she is f*****g mine.”

He gave him another punch to the nose. “You made a f*****g mistake touching her, and you know I hate my belongings being touched, Hart!” he gritted his teeth.

The man trembled, muttering words of apology, but Rafe didn’t budge.

I stood there in absolute shock. The entire bar continued as if nothing was happening—men kept drinking, music kept blaring, and the bartender just went back to wiping a glass. It was a nightmare of indifference. It showed this was a normal routine, and that alone sent chills up my spine. This was definitely not a place for me. I belonged with the elites.

Rafe didn’t stop. He rained blows down on the man’s face, his knuckles turning crimson. The biker wasn’t even fighting back anymore; he was just a limp weight under Rafe’s fury.

“Rafe! Stop!” I screamed, the sound tearing from my lungs. “Somebody help! He’s going to kill him!”

I looked around frantically, but no one moved. They wouldn’t cross him. Rafe was their law, their judge, and their executioner. He would face whoever it was. No wonder he was known as the deadly alpha prince. He was younger than Jalen, but f*****g ruthless.

I couldn’t just watch. I rushed forward and grabbed Rafe’s arm, my small hands digging into his tensed, rock-hard muscles.

“Rafe, please! You’ll kill him!”

Rafe paused, his chest heaving, his eyes glowing yellow. It was feral and predatory. I’d never seen him like this before. He looked up at me, a smear of blood on his cheek that wasn’t his.

“So?” he asked, his voice cold and devoid of remorse. “Is he the first man I’ve killed? He touched what belongs to me, and he has to f*****g pay for it.”

The way he made me feel like property was concerning, but this was not a place to bring up such a topic. I couldn’t look at the man on the floor anymore. Rafe was a f*****g monster, and it was ridiculous he was scared of what was inside me. He needed to look in a goddamn mirror to know what a monster looked like.

Yes, the man wanted to assault me, but he didn’t, and killing him wasn’t the solution.

“I want to go,” I said, my voice cracking. I let go of his arm and stepped back. “I want to go home. Now.”

Rafe stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans, looking like he wanted to argue, to finish the job, or maybe just to roar at the room. I didn’t wait to see which one it was. I turned and walked off angrily, pushing through the crowd toward the exit. My heart drummed in my ears. I could feel the voices laughing and taunting me for thinking I was special to him.

I told myself he wouldn’t come out for me, because they were right—I was nothing important to him. I felt tears hanging in my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry. I told myself I’d find my own way back, even if it meant walking through the dark. He wasn’t my savior, and I would be fine without him.

I stepped out into the cool night air, the silence of the compound feeling like a heavy blanket. I hadn’t made it five steps toward the gate when a hand clamped onto my shoulder and spun me around.

Rafe didn’t say a word. He just gripped my arm and dragged me toward his bike. His movements were rough, fueled by leftover adrenaline that made him look twice his size. This was when I realized the critics had all been in my ears. But even at that, he had referred to me as property more than once.

“Let go of me!” I snapped, trying to wrench my arm away.

He ignored my protest, practically shoving me toward the passenger seat. He swung his leg over the bike and looked at me. His face was darkened with fury and rage.

“Get on,” he commanded, his eyes burning into mine. “We’re f*****g going home.”