MY STEPBROTHER'S DIRTY PET

Game on

ZANE'S POV

FIVE YEARS LATER.

Cheers erupted amongst the crowd as I settled back on the dirt, kicking off the brakes to my bike. My name was chanted like prayers on each and every one of their lips as I nodded off and gave a curt bow with my helmet still on.

A cocky grin settled on my lips watching the reporters approach, and just in time Elliot had brought the guards along to ward them off. Once again, I'd won—three-time nationals, lots of awards in between. Competition after competition I won. One could put out a fair guess I loved being a biker, right?.

Except no. I hated it.

Did I love the way everyone worshipped me? The thrill of being wanted by strangers? The mystery surrounding the anonymous biker with the red helmet? Sure. I lived for that. But the actual sport? I couldn’t care less.

My phone buzzed and my grin split even wider watching the trail of comments kick in as I settled into the bus, taking off my helmet. My eyes twitched seeing her name there—the awfully irritating smiley-face love emojis, her comments stating how she'd die for me. And of course, she'd posted a gif of my split and winning the race to her story.

The b***h had no idea it was me. So yes, I became a biker because of her. Five years and holding a grudge seemed petty, but that's exactly what I was, petty and vengeful. I promised to get back at my sin doll and now... I'll do just that.

I may have read a line or two in her diary before ripping it apart and she’s got this thing for bikers. So the very moment my father had me sent on exile to military school, I started off there. Became a good soldier for them to praise. So of course once or twice, they'd let me off to my tournaments, especially when I returned with enough money for them. I didn't care about the money. They did. They got off on the fact that their little idolized student had become a star. Assholes.

"Seriously? Man?" Elliot asked, slamming the door shut behind him as he ignited the engine to the car. I gave an eye-roll before he slammed the pack of cigarettes against my chest. Elliot and I met in military school. It had taken us just three years to be done. We aced each test, each level, and we kind of became best friends. Except unlike me, he really had no reason to be here with me. Racing all around and taking on a shitload of workforce as my manager, my assistant. Or pretty much everything else. But the guy's hot-skilled and I can trust him.

"It's today, right?" Elliot asked once again, swerving through lanes on the road as I added another curt nod, taking a huff of the cigarette.

"This is crazy, you know... she was just a kid back then. She's probably..."

A loud bark of laughter coursed through my lips hearing Elliot speak. Of course, I suspected he'd had a thing for her. But I definitely didn’t care.

"A kid? She was above eighteen. She stabbed me in the back... well... front. Chest? She just stabbed me in the chest then lied to my parents, then burned herself to have me tossed off to some military school on a shitty island. So don't you f*****g lecture me Elliot, my mind's made up. Maybe... if she stays alive... you can go on with more of the thoughts of you two having a happy ever after. But I'll say this... my little sin doll will pay."

Whatever dreams Elliot had seemed to have gotten crashed down into the dirt after hearing every bit of venom ripping through my words. He sighed and nodded with a mildly frustrated huff.

"Hope you know what you're doing, man. She's your stepsister after all," Elliot spoke in a tone of resignation before pulling over. A snort coursed through my lips as I glanced at the windows. I trusted Elliot. Whatever obsessed fans had been talking, he'd have ditched them.

"Go home. Remember, you've got a long-ass break for an entire month. Feel free to text me. I know you've got no friends," I mocked teasingly before alighting from the car. I stomped against the cigarette, my eyes darting back to the building ahead. I forced down a chuckle... and here he was calling me the problem.

The guards by the door took a look at my ID, nodded me off, and passed as I handed over every item on me to the receptionist.

"Nikita," I muttered. She glanced at me keenly, a coy smirk tilting up her lips as she nodded. ID to another security man who led me down the elevator toward an underground basement. Loud music blasted through speakers welcoming me as soon as the doors opened. I made my way out as a mask was handed off to me. Same with a voice modulator.

"She's in there," the guard spoke. I could see the jealousy and amusement in his eyes as he watched me disappear through the huge wooden doors welcomed by a cool ambiance. The noise seemed to have canceled out behind me.

"Welcome... to Medusa's Paradise, Mr...." she trailed off, waiting for me to give a response.

"Silas," I offered, my voice sounding entirely different through the modulator. She gave a gentle nod, her own mask concealing her identity while she shoved me against the couch, straddling my hips almost immediately.

"And you are Nikita?" I asked, knowing awfully well the b***h was about to lie.

"Yes... I am. And I'm pleased to know you asked for me. I serve only the wealthiest. The most elite," she slurred, her teeth grazing over my earlobes as she straddled me again, earning a low groan from me while my d**k twitched in my pants.

My palms wrapped firmly around her neck, stopping her to a halt. For a moment, I'd seen the thrill in her gaze. The main reason she'd come here to start working as a stripper in the first place.

"It's my first time here, Nikita... let's take things slow now, shall we?" I questioned as she nodded. I fought every urge in me not to rip off her mask and mine, and call out her lies. Nikita? I wonder how terrified she'd look if I called her Nora... her real name... rip off the false identity she seemed to be living under right here.

"Of course, Mister Silas... Now, what would you want?" she asked, wetting the tip of her lips with her tongue while I grinned again. My little sin doll... was finally where I wanted her.