Claimed by the Ruthless Biker

POV ESMERAY

The dampness of Blackridge had a way of seeping into your bones, but tonight, the exhaustion was even heavier. My shift at the hospital had been a twelve-hour chaotic nightmare of sirens, screaming patients, and the smell of antiseptic. All I wanted was to feel my sheets against my skin. My car was still at the mechanic, and although I knew that walking alone at two in the morning was practically a death sentence in this neighborhood, my tired brain made me take the shortcut through the alley on 4th Street.

Rookie mistake. A mistake that was about to cost me everything.

Halfway through the darkness, a metallic sound made me stop dead in my tracks. I pressed my back against the cold brick wall, feeling the grime through my thin nursing scrubs. The shadows projected onto the asphalt under the flickering light of a dying streetlamp that hummed like a sick insect. My heart began to drum a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

—Don't do it, Ruan... please, we’re brothers...— The voice was broken, a jagged sob filled with a terror that made my stomach churn.

—Brothers don't steal from their own blood, Marcus— another voice replied.

It was deep. A baritone that vibrated in the damp air, loaded with a calm that was far more terrifying than any scream. It wasn't the voice of a man in a rage; it was the voice of a judge delivering a final sentence.

I peeked out just a few millimeters, my breath hitching in my throat. In the center of that circle of dim light, there he was. The man was a mountain of leather and shadows. Ruan Montague. I recognized him instantly by the tattoo that climbed up his neck like a vine of thorns until it disappeared behind his ear. The President of the Steel Phantoms. In this city, his name was a ghost story told to keep people from looking too closely at the darkness.

He didn't look angry. He looked... disappointed. And that made him look a thousand times more lethal.

Ruan pulled out a silver blade. There was no long cinematic fight, no desperate chase. It was a quick, clean, professional movement. A flash of polished metal in the rain, and then the dull thud of a body hitting the wet asphalt.

The air escaped my lungs in a silent gasp. My hand flew to my mouth to choke back a scream, but as I recoiled in horror, my backpack slipped from my shoulder. It hit a metal trash can with a clang that, in that deathly silence, sounded like a bomb going off.

I froze. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. I was a deer in the headlights, waiting for the impact.

—I know you’re there— Ruan said. He didn't turn around. He stayed standing over the body, calmly wiping the blade of his knife with a dark handkerchief as if he were cleaning a piece of silverware after dinner. —You have three seconds to come out on your own before I let my bike ride over whatever is left of you.

My legs were shaking so violently I thought they would give out. I stepped out of the shadows slowly, my hands raised, feeling the fine, icy rain on my face. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to run, but my feet felt like they were made of lead.

—I... I was just going home— my voice came out as a thin, pathetic thread. —I didn't see anything. I swear. I don't even know who you are.

Ruan turned around slowly. His eyes were a steel blue so pale they looked like shards of broken ice. He scanned me from head to toe, lingering on the emblem of my nursing scrubs and then locking onto my eyes. He approached with heavy, dominant steps, the click of his boots on the gravel sounding like a countdown. He didn't stop until his shadow completely engulfed me, making me feel tiny and insignificant.

The scent hit me immediately: expensive tobacco, gasoline, and something metallic. Blood.

He reached out a hand and, with a leather-clad finger, traced the edge of my jaw. The contact made me shiver, a jolt of electricity and fear shooting down my spine. It wasn't a caress; it was an inspection, a predator checking the quality of its prey.

—Esmeray Fenlon— he read my name tag with a voice that sent a fresh chill down my spine. —You have the eyes of someone who doesn't know how to lie, Esmeray. And you just saw something that nobody survives to tell.

—I won't say a word— I insisted, the panic starting to blur my vision as tears threatened to fall. —Please, Ruan. I have a family, I have a life...

—Now you have an owner— he interrupted, his face leaning down toward mine until I could feel his warm breath against my lips. —Because I’m not going to kill you today, but I’m not going to let you go either. You’re too much of a liability to be left wandering the streets with those pretty eyes full of my secrets.

He turned around and let out a sharp whistle. A few meters away, the engine of his motorcycle roared to life, appearing like a black ghost through the fog. He grabbed my arm with a grip of iron that brook no protest and dragged me toward the massive machine.

—Where are you taking me?— I asked, struggling against his hold, but he hoisted me onto the seat in one swift, brutal motion.

Ruan mounted the bike in front of me, trapping me between his powerful arms as he gripped the handlebars. He turned just a fraction, looking at me over his shoulder with a cruel, half-smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.

—To the place where good girls like you learn to forget what the daylight feels like.