The Alpha's Claim, The Biker's Desire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 51 - チャプター 60

Maddox’s POV:The drive home was a blur of red taillights and pounding rain, the wipers slapping a rhythm that matched the throb in my jaw where Sinclair's fist had connected. I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening as the memory replayed: his rage-filled eyes, his insults and the way he'd shoved me like I was nothing. That bastard! Always playing the hero where he's not even needed and always the one who got the girl. Kianna's pleading but protective face when she'd stopped him twisted something deep in my gut. She still cared about him, even after everything. Even after I'd handed her the truth on a silver platter at Pearl Street.Kianna's always weak, always…and that's why I tried to help her become tougher, but she thought I was harsh on her.I pulled into the garage, the door rumbling shut behind me like a final curtain on the night's shitshow. The house was dark but felt empty. My Dad must probably be outside for one of his illegal deals or out on some busi

Mordred's PoV:The safe house felt like a tomb that night—cold and empty with the kind of silence that presses in on you until it hurts to breathe. I paced the living room like a caged animal, boots scuffing the hardwood and the echo mocking me with every step. The lights were off, but the city glow seeped through the blinds in sickly stripes, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls. I couldn't sit. Couldn't think straight. All I could do was to replay the scene at Pearl Street over and over, a nightmare loop that clawed at my insides.Kianna, my Kianna—bursting through that door, her face crumbling like I'd taken a hammer to her heart.The tears in her eyes, the way her voice broke on “it's over”. Like all the moments we'd shared—the rooftop kisses under starlight, the way she'd laugh when I'd burn breakfast trying to impress her, the nights she'd trace my scars with her fingers like they were maps to my soul, meant nothing. Like I was just another asshole in a

Mordred's PoV:I slumped deeper into the worn-out armchair in my dimly lit living room, the fabric frayed at the edges from years of neglect, much like everything else in this godforsaken apartment. The bottle of cheap whiskey—some off-brand rotgut I'd picked up from the corner store on my way home, clutched in my hand like a reluctant lifeline. The amber liquid sloshed gently as I raised it to my lips, the sharp burn sliding down my throat, searing away the edges of the day's humiliation. But it couldn't erase the memory. No, that played on an endless, torturous loop in my mind: Kianna’s warnings, the eyes that watched us fight like cats and dogs, the smugness on some of their faces and Kianna's last glare at me before walking away with Lesley. And it was all the bastard's fault, if he hadn't interfered in our life, if he'd leave us the fuck alone..none of it would've happened.I took another swig, wincing at the fire that spread through my chest, but welcoming the haze it broug

Kianna's Pov:I sat cross-legged on my dorm bed, knees pulled to my chest, phone clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles had gone white. The screen was dark now, but the images were burned into my mind: Maddox’s laughing face lit by the glow of someone else’s phone, Emily stumbling, tears mixing with spilled beer, his friends jeering in the background. The caption—“Beating your enemy at his own game”—felt like it was aimed straight at me.I’d scrolled past it the first time, thinking it was just another rumor. Then I watched the videos three times going on the Fourth. Each replay made my stomach twist harder until I had to drop the phone and press my palms to my eyes to stop the room from spinning.How could I have been so stupid?All those weeks of him being sweet—bringing me coffee exactly how I liked it, helping me to heal, texting good-night like clockwork—had felt real. He’d looked me in the eyes and sworn he’d changed, that the old Maddox was gone. And I’d believed

Kianna's PoV:I stared at my reflection in the dorm mirror, tugging at the hem of the black dress Lesley had practically forced me into. It was simple—satin, off-the-shoulder, with a slit that felt far too daring for my mood—but she’d insisted it made me look “mysterious and untouchable.” Right now I just felt exposed and vulnerable, like everyone would see the mess inside me if they looked too close.Lesley bounced on her bed behind me, curling the last section of her hair. “You sure you don’t want me to do yours? Loose waves would be so cute.”“I’m good,” I muttered, running my fingers through my straight hair one more time. It fell like a curtain around my face, a shield I desperately needed tonight.She caught my eye in the mirror and softened. “Kianna… come on. You’ve been holed up for days. This party is exactly what you need. It’s not even our school—no one there knows about the videos, or Maddox, or any of the drama. Just music, dancing, free food, and a bunch of college se