Isla's POV
"Careful, little wolf, you'll bleed out in front of me."
The voice was low, rough and mocking; it rumbled out of the shadows like thunder rolling over a storm.
I froze; my chest was heaving and my legs were trembling from the run. The forest was a blur around me: twisting branches, heavy shadows and the sharp scent of pine mixing with the copper tang of blood... My blood.
I had escaped from my people and had run until my lungs screamed, until my legs threatened to give out, but I hadn't stopped. Not when the rejection still clawed at my chest and not when Logan's voice echoed in my skull, cold and merciless: I reject you. You're disgusting and a mistake of the Goddess.
I stumbled, my knees scraping against damp earth and caught myself against a thick tree trunk. The bark cut into my palms, but I barely felt it. My body ached everywhere, as my wolf, Ava, whimpered inside me, confused and broken.
But that voice was deep and rough, threaded with mockery that snapped me back to the present.
"Who's there?" My voice cracked, ragged with exhaustion.
A figure stepped forward, tall and broad, the firelight from behind him outlining his frame. That was when I realized the forest wasn't empty. The clearing ahead burned with a massive bonfire, surrounded by men and wolves leaning against motorcycles and crates of liquor. Their laughter and voices carried, but the moment I stumbled near, every head turned. They were bikers, Wolf, members of the Iron Fang Brotherhood.
I had heard of them in whispers, outlaws and rogues who lived by no Alpha's law but their own. They are dangerous, savage and untamed wolves who answered only to blood and fire.
The one walking toward me looks like their Alpha. His boots crunched against the earth, slow and deliberate. Tattoos snaked up his muscular arms, disappearing under the sleeves of a leather vest. His dark hair was a mess of waves, his sharp jaw shadowed with stubble and his eyes, oh, my Goddess, his eyes, were a storm. Piercing, burning and pulling me in even when everything inside me screamed to run.
"Lost, little wolf?" he asked, his lips curling into a smirk. "Or did you come here to bleed out in my territory?"
I staggered backward, shaking my head. "I didn't mean..."
"Didn't mean to what?" He closed the distance in two strides, his hand shooting out to catch my chin. He tilted my face up, his thumb brushing across my jaw with a roughness that made my skin burn. His scent hit me then: smoke, leather and danger. It wrapped around me, thick and intoxicating, so strong I nearly swayed where I stood and then it happened.
The spark and the fire, my chest ignited, my veins flooding with heat. Ava, my wolf, snapped awake again, howling inside me, tearing at my ribs.
Mate... The word rang in my skull, sharp and undeniable.
My lips parted on a gasp. His smirk faltered for a split second as his jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring as if he caught it too. His hand trembled just faintly against my skin before he tightened his grip, masking the slip with arrogance.
Around us, the bikers laughed and jeered.
"Kyree's got himself a stray."
"Look at her, she's too fragile. She would break before he even touched her."
"She's nothing but an Omega. The Brotherhood would eat her alive."
Their words were like knives, but his name cut through me deeper. Kyree... Kyree Blackthorn. The Alpha outlaw and also the man mothers warned their daughters about.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke, his voice low enough only I could hear. "An Omega? My world would eat you alive."
The mocking tone wrapped around me, cruel and hot. My body shook; whether from exhaustion or the bond, I didn't know. My wolf, Ava, howled, desperate and clawing at me to reach for him, but I couldn't, not again and not after what happened between me and Logan.
"Let me go," I whispered.
His eyes flickered, something dangerous sparking in them. Then, with a cruel smirk, he shoved me back. "Run, little wolf. Before someone less patient decides you would be fun to play with."
The bikers howled with laughter as I stumbled away, my chest burning, my body trembling. I clutched my torn dress and ran, their jeers echoing behind me, but I couldn't stop hearing his voice. His scent clung to me. His eyes followed me into the dark and my wolf whispered, broken but certain, "Mate."
Kyree's POV
The fire cracked and roared, but all I could hear was my wolf. "She's ours," my wolf, Darius's voice, thundered inside me, savage and unrelenting. "Claim her, mark her and take her before she slips away."
I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms while my eyes tracked the shadows where she had fled, her scent still hanging in the air: wildflowers, rain and something so pure it burned.
"Shut up," I hissed under my breath.
Darius snarled, furious. "You touched her and you felt it. She's ours!"
"She's an Omega," I spat. My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I turned, storming back to my bike. My hands gripped the handlebars, metal groaning under my strength. "She won't survive me. She won't survive this world."
"She doesn't need to survive your world," Darius roared. "She needs to survive with us."
I squeezed it harder and then the metal bent under my grip. My chest heaved and my heart was hammering against my ribs like a caged beast.
Around me, the bikers still laughed, oblivious. They thought it was a joke, just another weak stray who wandered too close. They didn't feel what I felt. They didn't know what the goddess had just chained to me.
"She's ours," Darius growled again, softer this time, almost pleading.
I closed my eyes, inhaling the last trace of her scent fading into the night. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe, until the weight of it crushed me.
I whispered to myself, the words raw and broken. "So why can't I breathe without her?"
The whiskey bottle at my feet caught my eye and with a snarl, I kicked it hard, sending it crashing into the fire. Flames roared higher and sparks flew in the air.
The bikers cheered, thinking I was celebrating, but they didn't see the truth.
I was furious at her, at myself and at the Goddess for cursing me, because I already knew one thing. I wouldn't survive her either. How many times can one broken heart be claimed before it shatters completely?