The Biker Alpha's Cinderella

Chapter 3

Nova’s POV

The sound of the retriever’s bone breaking echoed through the room, and I flinched, my back pressing against the cold wall. The man who had hunted me across three states was on his knees, screaming, his arm bent at a sick angle. And the man standing between us didn’t seem to flinch at the sight of his work. He was a monster, maybe worse than them.

The biker didn't stop; he looked like he was just getting started. He moved with a terrifying grace. When the other two Retrievers drew their weapons, he didn't back down. He walked forward towards them, looking like it was just another day to him.

I knew the bikers were dangerous, and I had heard numerous tales about them, but nothing prepared me for this man. One minute, he was looking at me like he had just found the answer to his prayers, and the next, he was back to being this cold, ruthless man.

"Subject Zero is unsecured!" one of them shouted into his comms. My stomach dropped; there were more of my father’s men out there to take me back to him.

"She's not a subject," the biker roared. He ducked a swinging baton and drove his fist into the man's gut. The punch sounded wet. "She's mine!"

The hallway erupted into chaos. The velvet ropes were torn down. Guests were screaming and fleeing.

I stood frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs. The pull of the bond was physical, a hook in my navel trying to drag me toward the man fighting for me. Every instinct I had screamed to go to him and stop running.

But my brain screamed louder: Run. No matter how dangerous he was, I am sure he couldn’t take them all down at once. If I stayed, the Obsidian Pack would bring reinforcements. They would kill him. Then they would drug me, shackle me, and drag me back to the white room with the glass walls. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't be the reason this stranger died.

I took a step back. The biker was busy, tussling with the third Retriever, a massive guy who had partially shifted his claws. I made my decision, I turned and bolted.

"No!" the biker roared behind me. The sound vibrated in my marrow, making my knees weak, but I forced myself to keep moving. I sprinted toward the service door at the end of the hall. My lungs burned. My suppressants were completely gone now; the world was too loud, too bright.

I reached for the handle, and a hand shot out from the shadows. The Retriever with the broken arm had scrambled to his feet. He lunged, his good hand clamping around my ankle. I screamed as I hit the floor hard. My chin struck the carpet, biting my tongue.

"You're not going anywhere, little wolf," he hissed, dragging me backward. Panic, blind and primal, took over. I wasn't a fighter. I was a hider. But I wouldn't go back. I kicked out, my heel connecting with his nose. blood sprayed. He swore but didn't let go. He reached up, grabbing the front of my apron, his fingers tangling in the silver chain around my neck, my mother's locket.

It was the only thing I had left of her. It held the crushed herbs that masked my scent—the only reason I had survived this long.

"Let go!" I shrieked. I twisted violently, thrashing like a wild animal. The Retriever fell back, clutching the silver chain. I didn't look back. I scrambled to my feet, tears blurring my vision. My neck felt naked. Cold. Without that locket, I was a target now. Every wolf in the city would be able to smell the Blood Wolf genetics on me within the hour. I slammed into the crash bar of the service door and burst out into the night.

The cold hit me like a physical blow. I was shivering instantly in my thin waitress uniform, my bare arms covered in goosebumps.

I ran.

I ran past the dumpsters, almost slipping on the icy pavement. I kicked off my black flats and ran barefoot, the ice biting into my skin. I needed to get to the subway. I needed to get underground, where the scent of ozone and rat poison would hide me. Behind me, the heavy steel door banged open.

"Nova!" The roar was so loud it shook the snow from the eaves. It wasn't the Retrievers. It was him—the biker wolf. How did he know my name? The urge to turn around was crippling. It hurt physically to run away from him. My wolf was howling, clawing at my insides, begging me to go back to the warmth of his touch.

I can't, I sobbed, the wind tearing the words from my lips. I'm sorry.

I turned the corner into the alley and didn't stop until I was sure nobody could find me.