OWNED BY THE BIKER KING

Chapter14

The sprawling Kane estate felt unusually quiet that night. Too quiet.

Without Luca’s grounding, regulatory presence around, the cold and minimalist mansion somehow felt even emptier than before. Elena sat completely alone on the edge of the plush sofa in the living room, her knees pulled close to her chest as she stared absentmindedly at the heavy rain slashing against the glass.

The grandfather clock on the wall continued ticking slowly, its rhythmic sound echoing through the dark corridors.

Midnight.

And still, there was no sign of Ryder.

Elena lowered her gaze toward the untouched cup of chamomile tea resting in her hands, the liquid long gone cold. For some strange reason... she just couldn’t bring herself to sleep. Maybe it was because the mansion felt far too big and intimidating when she was left completely to her own thoughts. Or maybe—just maybe—she had gotten used to Ryder’s heavy, protective presence more than she cared to admit.

The sudden, distinct sound of the massive front door clicking open pulled her from her racing thoughts.

Elena’s head snapped up instantly, her heart skipping a beat.

Ryder had finally returned.

But the exact moment his towering frame stepped into the dim light of the living room, Elena’s eyebrows knitted together in instant concern. He looked utterly exhausted. His crisp black shirt was slightly damp from the unforgiving rain outside, clinging to his broad shoulders, while a raw, fresh cut was clearly visible across his sharp knuckles.

Ryder was in the middle of loosening the buttons at his sleeves when he suddenly froze, noticing Elena was still awake and watching him from the couch.

“You’re still up?” his deep voice rumbled, rough from lack of sleep.

Elena didn't answer his question. Instead, she immediately stood up from the couch, her eyes locked onto his bleeding hand. “What happened to your hand, Ryder?”

Ryder glanced briefly down at the split skin over his knuckles before looking away indifferently. “It's nothing.”

Elena narrowed her eyes, her small frame radiating a rare spark of defiance. That was quite obviously not “nothing.” Without another word, she walked straight toward him, stopping just a foot away from his imposing figure.

“Sit down.”

Ryder blinked once, caught off guard by the sheer audacity of her tone. “...What?”

“I said, sit down.”

For a long, tense moment, Ryder simply stared down at her. Nobody in the underworld—nobody in this entire city—ever dared to order Ryder Kane around like that. He was a man who commanded blood and street empires. Yet strangely... he didn't feel angry.

Quietly, almost submissively, Ryder sank onto the leather couch. Elena disappeared into the adjacent hallway for a brief minute before returning with a small first aid kit.

The atmosphere between them became strangely, beautifully calm.

Elena knelt carefully on the floor beside the couch, gently taking his large, calloused hand into her smaller, softer ones. She dipped a cotton ball into antiseptic and began cleaning the cut with utmost gentleness. Ryder stayed unusually still, his intense, obsidian eyes unblinkingly watching her every movement—tracking the way her long eyelashes cast soft shadows over her cheeks.

“You should be more careful,” Elena muttered softly, her focus entirely on his hand as she blew gently on the cut to soothe the sting.

“It’s just a scratch, Elena.”

“That’s still an injury. And injuries get infected if you ignore them.”

Ryder’s lips twitched. He almost smirked slightly at her stubborn, maternal tone. Almost.

The grand mansion fell back into deep silence, save for the soothing symphony of the rain outside.

Then, breaking the quietude, Elena spoke in a near whisper. “You look tired.”

Ryder leaned his head back against the cushion of the couch, closing his eyes for a split second. “I am.”

It was a simple, raw, and completely honest confession.

For some reason, Elena’s chest tightened slightly after hearing those two words. It was the first time Ryder actually looked human and vulnerable to her, instead of the untouchable, lethal kingpin everyone else feared.

After a few more seconds of heavy silence, the question that had been burning in Elena's mind finally slipped out. “Why are you helping me this much, Ryder? What do you want from me?”

Ryder’s eyes slowly opened, locking onto hers. The heavy question lingered between them like a physical entity.

Honestly... even he didn’t fully understand the answer himself. At first, bringing Elena to his mansion was supposed to be a temporary arrangement—a simple act of convenience because she happened to be a witness at his bar.

Ryder looked down at Elena’s warm, delicate fingers wrapped so carefully around his rough, bruised hand. Her touch was warm. Gentle. And dangerously comforting to a man who had known nothing but violence his whole life.

“...I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice laced with a strange, undeniable sincerity.

Elena froze at his answer. Because somehow, that completely honest, unfiltered answer felt infinitely more dangerous to her heart than any calculated lie.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Elena quickly finished securing the neat bandage around his knuckles and slowly pulled her hands away. “Done,” she whispered softly, suddenly hyper-aware of their proximity.

Ryder nodded once, looking down at his wrapped hand. “Thank you.”

Neither of them seemed to notice just how close they had become while sitting there in the quiet, dim room. The air was thick with unspoken feelings. Outside, the storm continued to pour, sealing them away from the dangers of the rest of the world.

Some time later, as the warmth of the room enveloped her, Elena’s exhaustion finally caught up to her. Her eyes grew heavy, and she eventually fell fast asleep right beside him on the couch, her head resting slightly against the soft cushions while the fleece blanket slipped from her shoulder.

Ryder sat perfectly still, staring at her peaceful, sleeping face for a long, quiet moment.

Then, with agonizing care so as not to wake her, his large hand reached out. He gently pulled the blanket back up, tucking it securely around her shoulders. His dark eyes softened into something profoundly tender as he watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically.

And for the first time in a very, very long while—Ryder smiled. Just a tiny, breathless tilt of his lips.

For tonight, she was safe under his roof. And he would destroy anyone who tried to change that.

To Be Continued