ALPHA BIKER WHO CLAIMED HIS BROTHER'S MATE

10

MAYA’S POV:

The ride back to his house was done in a blur. In a matter of minutes, we were back at Rafe’s place. When we finally pulled into his driveway, he killed the engine, and the sudden quiet was deafening.

He didn’t help me down—just like he didn’t care if I survived being at the back of his bike or not.

He stormed toward the front door. I could tell he was angry, but I had done nothing wrong except tell him to stop hitting the man.

I followed him inside. Then I locked the front door, standing there for a second.

He headed straight for the kitchen, his movements jerky. He was probably looking for something to smoke. My heart was heavy at the moment, so I needed to let that out too.

"Are you really not going to say anything?" I demanded in a trembling voice, but it was loud enough to stop him in his tracks. "After everything that just happened back there?"

Rafe turned slowly, his jaw set so tight I thought his teeth might crack. "What do you want me to say, Maya?"

"Anything!" I yelled, breaking instantly. "You humiliated me! You stood there in front of all those people and called me property. You told Hart you hate it when your belongings are touched. Is that all I am to you? A chair? A bike? A piece of leather? Or a hoe you can just f**k whenever you want?"

Rafe didn't blink. He reached for a drawer, pulling out a cigar with fingers that were still stained with Hart’s blood.

“My day has not been the best, Maya. I think it is best we both go to bed and come back tomorrow with a clear head.”

I let out a sharp, bitter scoff, shaking my head as I backed away.

"You know what? Never mind. I don't even want to know. I don't want to hear whatever twisted logic you’ve got to justify being a monster. Everyone knows you, Rafe, and I do not even know why I expected anything from you."

I saw a glow in his eyes, and I could tell I ticked him off.

"You must know," Rafe growled, his voice dropping to a low rumble. He stepped toward me, the unlit cigar gripped between his fingers. "And as a matter of fact, Maya, you are property. You’re under my roof, under my name, and I just kept a man from tearing your clothes off. You should start acting like it, because I saved you tonight."

He lit his cigar, then blew the smoke in my face.

“Be grateful, or like this smoke, the benefits can all just be gone.”

He puffed more smoke, causing me to cough.

I felt the tears finally shimmer in my eyes. It was hot and meant for mockery. I stared him directly in those glowing yellow eyes, refusing to look away even as my heart shattered.

"Yes, sir," I whispered, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Thank you for reminding me I’m absolutely nothing. Instead of comforting me for almost being raped, you’ve made sure I know my place. I hope the Goddess protects the women you pass around in that club, Rafe. You’re all disgusting."

I didn’t wait for a rebuttal. I turned and bolted up the stairs, the sound of my sobbing breaths lost in the cold night.

RAFE’S POV:

The sound of her door slamming upstairs vibrated through the floorboards, hitting me right in the center of my chest. I stood in the kitchen, the cigar still in my hand. My blood sang with a rage I couldn't categorize.

Even though I’d spat those words at her with such conviction, I couldn’t tell if I meant them. I didn’t like how I felt at the moment. It was frustration bubbling underneath.

I looked down at the counter and, without thinking, slammed my fist into it.

The crack was loud enough to make me realize how hard I’d hit it. A visible dent appeared, and I felt the immediate dull throb as my knuckles began to swell and turn a dark, angry purple.

I didn’t care. I’ve broken bones before, but this felt different.

"This is f****d up," I hissed to the empty room. "This s**t is so f****d up."

I needed more smoke, I told myself. I needed the nicotine to dull whatever all this was that I was feeling. I didn’t want it—at this moment or at any moment to begin with.

She had to fall in line with the other women, and we were to please each other.

But why is my heart telling me she is different?

I told myself I was being unreasonable as I put the cigar in my mouth. I blew out smoke, and all I could see when I closed my eyes was Maya—not the way she looked just now, but the way she looked against that wall.

The terror in her eyes when Hart had his hands on her.

The voices in my head started up again. A chant I wished would stop. A chant telling me to go back and finish what I started.

Hart was still breathing—and that shouldn’t be.

Suddenly, I crushed the cigar in my hand. I pulled open a drawer and picked up my gun. I shoved it into my pocket and left the house, making sure the doors were padlocked shut.

Quickly, I hopped on my bike and headed back there.

The moment I arrived, I saw Hart already on his feet. He was standing with another woman who looked terrified.

I was right.

He was a f*****g bastard—a man who wouldn’t leave women alone or take no for an answer.

Without thinking twice, I pulled the trigger.

As he dropped to the floor, the woman screamed, running away.

I sped off on my bike—even though I didn’t need to, not as president—but I needed to process my thoughts.

And to know if I still controlled them.