Isla's POV
"Running again, little wolf?"
The walls of Drake's mansion pressed in like a coffin lined with velvet. The windows were locked, the doors watched, but the house was old, older than Drake's empire of polished lies and stone always remembered its secrets.
I managed to open and escort. I dragged myself along the corridor, ribs aching where he'd gripped me too hard the last time I fought him. My stomach growled, hollow, but hunger was better than obedience. My palms brushed over the ornate molding, desperate, until Ava's voice slithered through the shadows of my mind… "Left."
I froze, chest heaving. Ava?
"You hear me now," my wolf growled, as her tone edged with impatience. Stop wandering like prey. There's a servant's passage hidden under the tapestry. He doesn't know, you know, we are going to use it.
I swallowed hard, moving where she guided. The heavy woven cloth smelled of dust and time and when I yanked it back, my fingers found the seam of a door. The wood groaned as I pressed it open, revealing a narrow stair curling down into darkness.
"Thank you," I whispered, even though my throat burned.
"Don't thank me. Run and survive." Ava responded.
The passage spat me out near the kitchens, but no servants stirred at this hour. I slipped barefoot into the night, each step feeling like a knife against gravel and each breath a prayer that Drake's shadow wouldn't reach me.
Freedom burned across my skin like frost. I ran. Branches lashed my arms, mud clung to my feet, and the cold wind gnawed at my bones. But I didn't stop; I just couldn't.
Behind me, the alarm of shouts rose, guards. Their boots struck the ground relentlessly, creating a rhythm like that of hounds.
Faster, Ava urged. The border's closed. Smell the pine? That's safety, if you can make it.
"I won't be his pawn," I panted, each word a promise carved out of blood and defiance. "Never again," I murmured to myself.
The trees thickened and for a moment, hope pulsed like a heartbeat. Then came the whistle of arrows and the snap of twigs. Shapes moved between the trunks; that's Drake's guards, who might be closing in.
"Keep moving," Ava barked, feral. "Don't let them circle you." And then…
The night split open.
Engines roared, guttural and violent, a pack of steel beasts tearing through the darkness. Headlights cut across the forest, blinding the men chasing me. The growl of motorcycles rolled like thunder, rattling the marrow in my bones.
The guards hesitated, faltered and raised their weapons half-raised.
I stumbled into the clearing, breathless and trembling. Dozens of bikes screeched to a halt in a storm of dirt and snarling engines. Leather and steel gleamed under the moonlight and every rider bore the same mark: a jagged fang carved in silver across their jackets.
That's the Iron Fang Brotherhood.
One rider killed the engine and removed his helmet, revealing eyes the color of a storm waiting to break. He leaned forward, gaze pinning me as if he'd been expecting me all along.
"Well, well," his voice was rough silk, carried over the hum of his brothers. "Looks like the prince lost his little bird."
My wolf lifted her head inside me, ears pricked, breath steady. "Careful, Isla, not every pack that finds you is salvation."
But oh, for the first time in days, I felt the edges of a choice.
The mocking voice slid across the night like smoke curling from fire.
I froze, my lungs burned, my feet were raw from tearing through the forest floor, but I still knew that voice. The deep rumble of it, tainted with mockery and something darker... Kyree Blackthorn.
The roar of engines filled the clearing, vibrating through the ground beneath my knees. Motorcycles lined up like a wall of steel and fire, headlights cutting through the night. Wolves in leather vests lounged on their bikes, bottles in hand, eyes sharp and hungry. They are the Iron Fang Brotherhood and in the middle of it, leaning back against his black Harley, was Kyree himself.
Tall, road and tattoos coiling up his arms like dark snakes. His hair a mess of waves, his jaw shadowed, his smirk cruel enough to slice open the night.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Not again, goddess, not him again.
I staggered back, shaking my head. "Leave me alone."
He slid off the bike, slow and deliberate, the firelight from the bonfire painting his skin in gold and shadow. His boots crunched over gravel until he stood a breath away, his scent, smoke, whiskey and danger, wrapping around me like chains.
"You bleed, you run and somehow you always end up in my territory," he drawled, his eyes burning into me. "Tell me, little wolf… Are you lost? Or are you just mine?"
"I'm not yours." My voice cracked, but I forced it out anyway.
The bond betrayed me instantly. Heat surged through my veins, sparks igniting under my skin. My knees trembled. My wolf, Ava, howled inside me, clawing at my chest.
Mate.
The word ripped through me, unstoppable, undeniable.
Kyree's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, his jaw tightening. His hand shot out, pinning me against the side of his bike. His palm pressed flat to my chest, right over the frantic beat of my heart.
"Liar," he murmured.
The world narrowed to him, the roughness of his touch, the storm in his eyes, the way his wolf rumbled beneath his skin.
Around us, the Brotherhood roared with laughter.
"Kyree's got himself a stray again."
"She'll break before the night's over."
"Too fragile for this world."
Their words stung like knives, but Kyree's growl silenced them all. The sound was deep and feral, a warning that rolled across the clearing and shut every mouth.
"Back off," he snarled without looking away from me.
For a heartbeat, no one dared breathe.
Then his hand slid from my chest to my jaw, rough fingers gripping me just hard enough to remind me of his strength. His eyes burned hotter, but his voice was still mocking.
"Run back to your Alpha heir if you want chains. With me, you'll bleed… but you'll be free."
My stomach twisted. My lips trembled. "I don't know what freedom is anymore."
He leaned closer, so close his breath brushed my lips. "Then maybe I'll teach you."
The bond flared again, choking me. I shoved against his chest, gasping, desperate. "Let me go."
His smirk returned, sharp as broken glass. "You don't get to tell me what to do, little wolf."
Shouts cut through the clearing. The roar of engines was drowned out by the clash of boots and the glint of steel.
They were Drake's soldiers.
Armored and armed, their eyes glowing gold in the dark. They stormed the firelit circle, weapons raised, voices booming.
"Step away from her!" One barked. "She belongs to the Nightshades!"
Kyree didn't even flinch. He tossed his whiskey bottle to the ground, glass shattering at their feet. The fire hissed as the liquid flared.
"No one takes what's mine," he growled.
The Brotherhood howled in answer, half drunk, half savage, their loyalty teetering between war and chaos. The clearing crackled with tension, sparks flying as bikers revved engines like weapons.
Drake's men sneered, circling tighter. "Hand her over, outlaw, or bleed tonight."
And then the dagger slipped.
One of Drake's men smirked, his gaze flicking to me. "Your brother knows you're alive, little Omega. Logan. And he doesn't want you rescued. He wants you dead before the next Blood Moon."
The words slammed into me like a blade to the gut.
My knees buckled. My wolf shrieked inside me. No. No, he wouldn't...
But I knew; I'd seen it in Logan's eyes, the hatred, the rage and the rejection.
He would kill me if it meant wiping away the bond the Goddess had cursed us with.
Kyree's grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "What did you just say?"
The soldier smirked wider. "You heard me. Even her own blood wants her gone."
The bikers jeered, some laughing, some muttering uneasily. A cursed Omega. A death mark hangs over my head.
I trembled, tears blurring my vision, but Kyree's growl split the night, deep enough to rattle bones.
"You'll shut your mouth," he snapped. His voice dripped violence.
The soldier only smirked harder and Kyree lunged. Immediately, chaos erupted.
Kyree's POV
The world blurred red. Darius roared inside me, savage and unrelenting. She's ours; protect her and tear them apart.
My fists slammed into the soldier's jaw, bone cracking under my knuckles, while another came at me. I ripped the blade from his hand and drove it into the dirt at his feet. Blood sprayed across the firelit ground.
The Iron Fang Brotherhood howled, some fighting, some retreating and the camp dissolving into madness.
All I saw was her, Isla, fragile and broken and trembling. Her eyes were wide with terror and despair and still, her scent cut through the chaos of wildflowers and rain, searing into me like a brand.
I couldn't let her go. I couldn't hand her over, even if she ruined me and even if she burned me.
The fight ended in a storm of blood and smoke, Drake's men retreating with curses, dragging their wounded with them while the Brotherhood were pounding bottles against our bikes.
I didn't celebrate. I drank hard.
Whiskey burned my throat, fire filling my veins. My hand clenched around the bottle until it shattered, glass slicing my palm. Blood dripped, mixing with the dirt, but I didn't care.
Darius snarled inside me, relentless. She's ours. She's the prophecy. The Omega who will burn the world.
"Shut up," I hissed.
But the memory clawed at me, the prophecy whispered years ago by a dying seer:
An Omega with too many bonds will choose the fire that ends us all.
I glanced at her again. Curled by the fire, her eyes haunted, her body trembling, as she's too fragile and too breakable.
And yet, she'd already chained me.
I gripped my bike until the metal bent beneath my hands. My voice broke as I whispered, "I'll ruin her. But the thought of her gone feels worse than death."
Isla's POV
The fire popped and hissed, throwing sparks into the night. I crouched by its edge, my arms wrapped around myself. My body ached, my mind spun, and my chest burned from every bond ripping through me.
I looked at Kyree across the flames. His head bent and his shoulders tense, whiskey dripping from his cut hand. His wolf still burned behind his eyes, but he wouldn't look at me.
My heart twisted.
"Goddess," I whispered, too quiet for anyone but the fire to hear. "How many times can I survive being claimed before there's nothing left of me?"
The flames gave me no answer. Only the chains of fire in my chest refused to break.
When even the outlaw refuses to let go, is it freedom she's running toward or another cage?