My Four Biker Stepbrothers

Chapter 2: Two Choices, No Choice

[Emma POV]

"Hurry up, princess. We’re getting late," the fourth one said, his loud voice pulling me back to reality.

"No," I said, shaking my head as I locked eyes with them.

The smell of my mother was still present in the air, gentle, warm, and waning, like the final traces of a dream slipping away at dawn. Her scent lingered in the fabric of the curtains, in the folds of the old chair where she used to sit, comforting and cruel in its persistence. I could still hear her humming silence, that soft, invisible presence that used to fill the room, a melody of love unspoken. I wanted to slam the door shut, scream until my throat was raw, beg the universe to give me back what it had stolen. But the man in front of me took one step closer, and my breath froze in my chest, my heart thudding like a drumbeat in a storm. His eyes held something I couldn’t name grief, guilt, maybe both and suddenly the room felt smaller, heavier, as if even the air was mourning.

“You have two choices, Emma,” he said, voice cutting through the dark like a blade. “Come willingly, or we’ll make you.”

My heart pounded against my ribcage. "You can't just...this is my house. You don't have any right..."

I didn't notice him step.

His hand hit the doorframe next to my head with a crack, the power radiating through wood like a threat. I jerked back, gasping, but he didn't hit me. Only stood there, inches from me, so close I could smell the smoke and leather on his skin. His face was inches from mine, his jaw clenched, lips parted just enough for me to see the edge of his teeth. My lungs refused to work.

His tone was deeper now. A growl with a thread of threat and something sinister. "Sweetheart, you have any idea what your mother's life has been like? You don't know a damn thing. And if you don't get out of here, you'll be dead before dawn. Now get on the bike."

Dead?

The word hit like a punch to the stomach. My mother was gone. What else could possibly be coming for me? What in the world had she been keeping from me? And why were these guys here, guys who referred to themselves as my stepbrothers but acted like wolves circling around me?

I swallowed hard. My hands shook at my sides, useless.

They led me out.

The darkness had grown heavy, heavy with grief. Four big bikes waited before us, parked in rows in the gravel like guards. Chrome jaws glinted in the moon's light. The engines still rumbled, deep and alive, like beasts restless in their cages. My house, the one that had been home to every shard of my soul, now seemed like a snare. The woods, the porch, the wind that used to calm me, all of it seemed strange to me now.

The one with the evil smile, the crazy one with eyes that held a thousand secrets and a grin that hinted at trouble, tapped the seat behind him. "Come on, princess. Don't make us wait."

I gulped, every nerve screaming. "I'm not leaving with you."

He laughed, deep and smooth, as if my refusal was the most entertaining thing he'd heard all night. "Get on, or I'll toss you over my shoulder. Your choice."

My knees stiffened. I was paralyzed with fear and disbelief. But before I could react, their elder brother stepped forward. I did not even know his name yet, but it rolled around my head like thunder. He was gravity. He reached for me and held my wrist with a sureness that told me I already belonged to him. His thumb brushed against the frantic beat of my pulse, and for a split second, his expression flickered. Something unreadable. Pity? No...no possession.

“You’ll ride with me,” he said, and it wasn’t a request. It was an order.

I didn’t know what made me obey him....fear, maybe. Or curiosity...or the quiet whisper that the world I’d known was already ash and this… this was something new, terrifying, and unavoidable. Holding my breath tight within my chest, I trailed behind him to the biggest bike. The engine pulsed beneath me, alive and ready. He climbed on with a smooth grace that made me flush—so sure of himself, so dangerous. Then he reached back, his gloved hand open.

I stared at it. My last chance to turn back. My last breath of safety. But there was nothing left to hold onto. No mother. No questions. No home.

Shaking with trembling fingers, I placed my hand in his.

The seat scorched under me, warm with the engine, and as I sat behind him on the bike, I could feel it all, his power, the tension in his spine, the coiled power just under his skin. I hesitated and then put my hands lightly on his sides. His fingers wrapped over mine, tightening my grip around his waist until I was pressed against him.

"Hold on tight, little sister," he grunted, voice as harsh as pebbles. "If you fall, I won't stop."

Then the engine screamed.

The world dissolved into nothingness as the bike took off, wind tearing through my hair and stripping away every thought from my mind. Gravel sprayed behind us, and the countryside became nothing but streaks of darkness and shadows. I couldn't catch my breath. I couldn't think. All I could do was feel, his body beneath me, the engine's scream under us, the feel of my breasts on his back with each bounce of the road.

I hated them. God, I hated them. For arriving at my house. For pulling me away from my childhood memories. For making me feel anything other than sorrow. But my body had a mind of its own. Every rumble of the engine sent shivers running up my spine. Every twist in the road made me hold on tighter. Heat curled low in my belly.

I was careening. Down roads that weren't familiar. Into a life I hadn't accepted.

When the bikes finally slowed, my legs were numb, my heart a snare drum in my chest. We rode into a complex that seemed out of a lawless fantasy, industrial structures, neon lights bleeding red and blue onto the blacktop, music thumping from somewhere below. Guards stood outside, rough and silent, eyes tracking me as I climbed off the bike with unsteady legs. I clung to the illusion of composure, but I could feel their gazes like knives on my skin.

I opened my mouth. I wanted to say...no....I wanted to yell...this isn't right. I wanted to rage and demand answers, fight back, run. But the words knotted somewhere in my chest because deep down, in the place I didn't want to acknowledge… I knew I wasn't going back.

He swung off the motorcycle with effortless power and turned to face me. Before I could step back, he caught my chin between his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze.

His tone was icy now. Final. "Welcome to your new home."

He saw the protest die in my eyes. A dark, knowing glint flickered in his. He leaned in, his voice dropping from that commanding growl to a low, visceral hum that vibrated straight through the heart of me, a frequency meant only for my ears.