ALPHA BIKER WHO CLAIMED HIS BROTHER'S MATE

12

MAYA’S POV:

I stood in my room, which was just above the front door. I pressed my ear to the window, listening to everything Rafe said to the men who were downstairs.

My blood ran cold as I realized what Rafe had done. He had gone back to end that man’s life. It was all because of me.

The thought of it was suffocating. I didn’t want any of this, and I couldn’t get my mind off the fact that I caused a man to die. I made a woman a widow. Goddess, he deserved it, but no woman deserved to lose her husband. He might have been evil, but who knows if he was good and caring to her?

I was the reason the Iron Fang MC was in an uproar, which meant one thing—more enemies for me. The legit pack members already hated me, and now the bikers did too.

I started pacing the small confines of the room, my bare feet silent on the floorboards, but my mind was screaming. I was a catalyst for his inner monster.

I didn’t hear Rafe coming to my room until I heard a knock on my door and opened it. I jumped, a small gasp escaping my lips as I spun around to face him.

Rafe stood there, looking like he was about to rain down on me. Two nights ago, we were supposed to be in a partnership, but now he treated me differently—like I had uprooted the anger in him and given the world all his ugly sides.

His eyes, those glowing yellow orbs, scanned my trembling frame. He looked at the way I was clutching my elbows.

"What?" he asked, lowering his voice and loosening his arched brows. "You afraid of me now, Maya?"

I stood frozen. I wanted to scream at him, to ask him how he could be so casual about murder, but the words couldn’t come out. I stayed silent, my wide eyes the only answer he got.

He didn’t wait for me to find my voice. He let out a huff of irritation, the scent of stale whiskey and cigars clinging to him.

"Pack a bag. We’re heading to the ship. We need to find out what it is you have.”

He turned to leave.

"I... I have nothing to wear," I whispered, finally finding a shred of courage. "Everything I own is back at the pack house." I swallowed hard, thinking of the judgment waiting for me there. "And Rafe... please. If we have to go see my parents, can you let the ship get to shore? Let the pack members return to their homes first."

He turned to face me and arched his brow, waiting for the rest.

"I don’t want them to see me," I admitted, my voice breaking. "I don’t want them to judge me. I can handle Jalen’s judgment because it means nothing, but I can’t face the mocking eyes of the whole pack. They do not know I am innocent, please."

Rafe didn’t say a word. He simply opened the door and walked away.

I stood there for a second, my heart hammering. Was he angry? Was he going to force me out there anyway? I didn’t want to find out what happened when his patience snapped for a second time. The uncertainty made my throat dry, and even as I grabbed the water from my nightstand, it did nothing to help.

After a while, I jumped into the shower, scrubbing my skin until it was red. I tried to let the shower calm me, but it did nothing. I quickly rushed through it.

When I stepped out, I had no choice but to pull on the clothes I’d worn to the bar the previous night. They felt dirty, tainted by the memory of the club—especially the memory of a dead man trying to force himself on me. But I had no other options. It was either that or risk pissing Rafe off even more.

When I was finished dressing, I walked downstairs, my damp hair clinging to my neck. Then, I sat on the sofa, looking at the wall clock.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. I looked at the stairs, but Rafe never came down.

The silence in the house was eerie. My anxiety began to spiral—had he left me here? Was he outside waiting to blow up at me? The walls felt like they were closing in. I couldn’t take the quiet anymore.

"Rafe?" I called out, but no one answered. I stood up and yelled again, "Rafe!"

There was nothing. This made my heart pound faster, louder, and harder.

Suddenly, a knock echoed from the front door. My heart leapt into my throat. Was it the bikers from earlier? Or could it be someone out for revenge?

The doorbell followed, and I swallowed hard. I waited for Rafe to come downstairs like he did earlier that morning, but he didn’t. Then the person knocked again.

“Package for Miss Maya!” someone yelled from outside, causing my racing heart to calm a bit.

But then I remembered—I hadn’t ordered anything. Suspicion rose again, and I grabbed a vase from a stand by the door. I reached for the door handle and yanked it open, ready to swing the vase at them.

“Woah!” the delivery man in uniform ducked.

I lowered my weapon, swallowing hard. Then I scanned him. He didn’t have a gun or a biker vest. He was just a delivery man, almost hidden by a mountain of high-end paper bags with designer logos pooling at his feet.

"Are you Miss Maya?" he asked, and I flashed him a small, nervous smile.

I nodded, holding my chest to calm my heart down.

“I am sorry. I thought you were an intruder, and I didn’t order anything.”

“I figured,” he said, taking out a sheet. “Alpha Rafe ordered these, and I would like you to sign here.”