OWNED BY THE BIKER KING

Chapter 18

The heavy, suffocating tension in the living room slowly receded, and on the surface, everything returned to normal.

Conversations resumed with a casual, practiced ease. Laughter from Drayton and their mother followed shortly after. Yet somehow—Elena couldn’t focus on a single second of any of it.

Nana.

The name remained stubbornly stuck inside the deepest recesses of her mind, echoing like a haunting melody she had long forgotten—a vital memory hiding just fractions beyond her desperate reach.

“Elena? Sweetheart?”

Elena blinked rapidly, snapping out of her trance. She realized Ryder’s mother was looking directly at her, gentle maternal concern etching her features.

“You seem a little distracted, sweetheart. Is the food not to your liking?”

“No, everything is perfect. I’m just... a bit tired,” Elena offered, but the smile she forced onto her lips felt hollow.

And Ryder noticed. His dark, piercing eyes locked onto her pale face from across the table, tracking the subtle tremor in her hands.

A few hours later, after everyone had finally grown tired of exchanging old corporate stories and catching up on family business, they retired to their respective quarters.

Later that night, Elena stood alone by the massive glass bedroom window, her forehead resting against the cool pane. The entire mansion was dead quiet now. Everyone was asleep. But her mind refused to stop spinning.

“Nana...” Elena whispered into the dark room, closing her eyes tightly.

Instantly, a vivid image fragmented into her mind. A bright, sunlit summer day. The sharp, nostalgic scent of freshly cut grass and wildflowers carried by a gentle breeze. The distant, joyful sound of children's laughter echoing across an open, sprawling estate.

“Nana, wait for me!”

In her mind, the little girl turned around, her sundress catching the wind. Then, someone suddenly grabbed her hand from behind. Someone she had once trusted completely. Someone whose face she could no longer remember.

The name echoed violently through Elena’s mind now, louder until it throbbed.

“Nana!”

The voice sounded distant, yet terrifyingly familiar. Warm. Protective.

Elena’s eyes snapped open in the darkness, her breath hitching. For a brief, agonizing second—she could almost grasp the whole picture. A specific summer. Endless, unbothered laughter.

And then—the memory warped. She saw another little girl standing in the shadows. Someone who looked exactly like her. A mirror image.

Before she could reach out to touch the vision, her memory shattered into a million jagged pieces, leaving Elena frozen in place, her chest heaving. Who on earth was that other girl?

Elena stared blankly into the vast darkness of the night. The haunting image refused to leave her. Maybe Ryder’s parents weren’t just reminiscing. Maybe Nana wasn’t just some random childhood friend. Maybe... she was intricately, biologically connected to her.

And for the very first time since waking up at that desolate bus terminal, Elena wanted answers. No matter what dangerous truths lay ahead, she had to uncover it all.

On the other side of the east wing, Ryder’s mother couldn't stop thinking about the girl downstairs either. Sleep refused to come. Her mind kept violently returning to the exact same, impossible question.

“You’re thinking about her again, aren't you?” Ryder’s father, Marcus, noted quietly, glancing up from the leather-bound book he had been pretending to read.

His wife let out a long, heavy sigh, sitting up against the headboard. “I can’t help it, darling. My chest feels tight.”

The master bedroom fell into a pensive silence. The weight of a decade-old grief hung over them before she whispered—

“She looks exactly like her.”

Marcus nodded slowly, tears welling in his eyes. “I know. I saw it the moment she walked into the room.”

“The specific way she smiles when she's nervous.”

“The shape of her eyes. Even the soft cadence of the way she talks.”

Everything about Elena felt familiar. Far too familiar to be a mere trick of the mind. Years had cruelly passed since the tragedy, yet somehow, memories of that little girl still felt as clear as yesterday.

“What if it really is her, Marcus?” his wife whispered, her voice cracking. “What if our Nana has finally come home to us?”

The patriarch remained completely silent, staring at the golden light of the lamp. Because deep down, in the coldest part of his calculating heart—he had been asking himself the exact same question for days.

Outside the heavy mahogany door, in the dimly lit corridor, someone heard every single word of their confession.

Drayton slowly folded his arms across his chest, the usual playful smirk entirely wiped from his face.

Luca, leaning his broad shoulder against the opposite wall, exchanged a dark, loaded glance with Ryder. Nobody spoke a word, but the terrifying confirmation rang loud in their minds.

Elena. Nana. Could they really, truly be the exact same person?

“You both heard that too, right?” Luca finally asked, his voice a low, dangerous whisper before his impending departure.

Drayton nodded grimly, his jaw tight.

Ryder remained silent, a sharp muscle ticking violently in his cheek. “My parents have never spoken about Nana in front of a stranger. Not once in ten years.”

“Then why now? Why does Elena trigger this reaction from them?” Luca pushed quietly.

Nobody had a concrete answer. Because the logical possibility they were all desperately thinking about seemed utterly impossible. Yet somehow—it was starting to feel terrifyingly real.

Back in her dark room, Elena finally managed to lay her exhausted body down onto the mattress. Sleep came slowly, pulling her under a heavy fog. But just before she fully drifted off—another dormant memory flashed violently through her mind like lightning.

A little boy. Dark, messy hair. Intense, piercing obsidian eyes. He was running toward her through the sunlit grass, a brilliant, breathtaking smile on his young face.

“I'll find you again, Nana. I promise.”

Elena sat upright in bed with a gasp, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs as cold sweat broke across her forehead.

Because for the very first time since her amnesia—she intimately recognized that boy's face. The sharp structure, the intense gaze... it looked so much like a younger version of Ryder.

Why did her soul feel like that little boy from her dreams was really him? Was it even possible? Was the boy who promised to find her actually Ryder Kane? And if he was—why couldn't her mind remember him when he was standing right in front of her?

To Be Continued