All Chapters of The Biker Alpha’s Hated Mate: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

MatteoThe Council Chamber was a relic of a time when the world was ruled by claws and blood-oaths, a circular stone amphitheater carved into the mountain's core. The air here was perpetually thin, cold, and heavy with the scent of ancient incense and the underlying musk of a dozen Alphas. It was a place designed to make a man feel small.I didn't feel small. I felt like a bomb with a hair-trigger.I stood in the center of the pit, the floorstones worn smooth by centuries of accused shifters. Above me, seated in a semi-circle on high marble daises, were the twelve Elders of the High Council. To their right sat the observers—the Alphas of the neighboring territories.And among them, leaning back with a look of bored arrogance that made my knuckles itch to find his jaw, was Damien Stroud."Matteo Valentino," the High Elder, Gideon, spoke. His voice was like grinding stones. "You have been summoned to answer for the state of the Bloodshade territory. There are reports of instability, of

MatteoI am the Alpha of the Black Fangs, and I have spent my life mastering the art of the hunt. I know how to mask my scent, how to dampen the sound of my pulse, and how to become a ghost in my own halls. So, when I returned from the Council Chamber, I didn't burst through the doors with the roar of a betrayed king. I moved through the sub-levels of the sawmill like smoke, driven by a gnawing, instinctual need to find my mate.I found her in the auxiliary gym.I stayed in the darkness of the observation gallery, my boots silent on the rusted metal grating. Below me, the gym was bathed in the harsh, flickering glow of a single halogen lamp. I expected to see Aveline huddled in a corner, or perhaps weeping over the impossible choice the Council had forced upon us.Instead, I saw a predator.Aveline was moving with a fluidity that defied every report I’d ever read on her. She wasn't just training; she was dancing with violence. Kai was with her, and my Beta—a man who could snap a redwo

MatteoThe air in the sawmill bunker was stagnant, smelling of old grease and the bitter, unwashed scent of my own self-loathing. After walking out on Aveline in the gym, I had retreated to the shadows of the motor pool, my hands still shaking with the phantom sensation of her skin beneath my teeth. The wolf was a caged storm behind my ribs, snarling at the cowardice of the man who led him.I was scrubbing the carbon off a piston head with a wire brush, my movements mechanical and violent, when a shadow fell across the workbench."You look like shit, Alpha."I didn't need to look up to know it was Ezra. His scent was always the same—dry parchment and the cold, ozone tang of someone who spent too much time whispering in the ears of the Council. He leaned against a support pillar, tossing a silver-weighted coin into the air and catching it with a rhythmic, irritating clack."Get out, Ezra," I growled, not breaking my rhythm. "I’m not in the mood for your brand of 'counsel' tonight.""Th

AvelineSerafina’s laughter was a jagged shard of glass cutting through the stagnant air of the underground transport. We were deep beneath the Black Fang Cemetery, the walls weeping with the dampness of the earth and the scent of centuries-old rot. I was bound to a rusted metal chair, silver-lined shackles biting into my wrists, the metal hissing against my skin as it suppressed the Guardian pulse in my veins."You look pathetic, Aveline," Serafina purred, stepping out of the shadows. She was still dressed in her emerald finery, but the silk was stained with the grime of the tunnels. She held a long, thin needle in her hand, the tip glinting with a viscous, translucent fluid. "All that 'Guardian' posturing, and here you are. Back in a cage. Back where a stray belongs."I spat toward her, my throat raw. "Is that what this is, Serafina? A cage? Or are you just pissed that even in chains, Matteo looks at me with more hunger than he’s ever shown you?"Serafina’s face contorted, her beaut

MatteoGideon lay broken at the base of the altar, a puppet with its strings severed. The "Source" below us pulsed with a rhythmic, sickening light, but my focus was entirely on the woman standing beside me. Aveline’s violet eyes were the only thing grounding me as the psychic static of the vault tried to tear my mind apart."We have to move," she whispered, her voice a sharp command that cut through the haze.I shifted back to my human form, the skin of my side knitting together in a jagged, painful mess of scar tissue and fresh blood. I grabbed my jacket from the floor, not for warmth, but to hide the vulnerability of my bare chest. We climbed the stone stairs of the chapel, the air growing hotter, thicker with a scent that didn't belong in the sanctuary of the dead.I pushed open the heavy oak doors, and the world I had spent fifteen years rebuilding was gone.The Black Fang clubhouse—my fortress, my home, the only place where the ghosts of my family felt at peace—was a pillar of r