Lahat ng Kabanata ng His to Break: The Biker Alpha's Hated Mate: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

I couldn’t speak. The sound of the rain, the roar of the bikes still rumbling behind him, the distant barking of a dog in someone’s yard, everything faded beneath the weight of his voice as he stepped into view.Five years. Five whole years without seeing his face, and yet the moment his helmet hit the wet pavement and his eyes met mine, I knew. No one else had those eyes. Blue as ice, fierce as fire, watching me like I was both a ghost and a threat.My knees hit the cold pavement fully now, and I gasped as pain exploded in my side. My ribs. Something had cracked, maybe broken. I couldn’t tell anymore. My whole body throbbed. But I didn’t care. He was here.My ex-stepbrother. My forbidden memory.He looked down at me without moving, his tall frame casting a shadow even in the dim yellow glow of the streetlights. His black jacket clung to his chest, rain trailing off the leather, and his jaw was harder, sharper, sculpted like it had been carved by war itself. This wasn’t the boy I used

His grip tightened, and I gasped, chest rising sharply as his fingers tangled in my hair like he meant to rip out the memories along with the strands. Not from shock. Not just from pain.It was the way it hurt, like he knew exactly how to twist the knife without drawing blood. The ache wasn’t just in my scalp. It was in my chest. My ribs. Somewhere deep I couldn't reach.His breath grazed my skin. His scent, cedar smoke, hit me. And his eyes…Those eyes didn’t just look at me. They burned through me.“I’ll never forgive him,” he said, voice rough and cracked. “And I’ll never forgive you.”He leaned in close, the heat of his breath brushing my lips. I saw the scar slicing through the stubble on his cheek, the way his jaw ticked like he was chewing on broken glass.“You’ll carry his sins,” he whispered, soft but seething. “Until they break you.”“I’m not him,” I said, voice shaking. “You punish me like I am, but I’m not.”His fingers released my hair. Then he shoved me. Not hard enough

Draven’s Point of ViewI jerked awake, chest tight, breath stuck halfway in my throat. My hands were still clenched in the sheets, damp with sweat. The room was quiet, but not the peaceful kind. It was the kind that felt heavy, like everything around me was just waiting for me to lose it.Her face lingered.My mother.Pale. Hollow-eyed. A ghost in her own skin.After he left, he started falling apart. Stopped humming while doing dishes. Stopped laughing at the dumb shows she used to watch. Started muttering in empty rooms. Bottles lined her nightstand, cheap whiskey, expired pills, whatever numbed her enough to fall asleep without screaming. I was too young to understand. Too slow to stop her.Until I found her.Hanging.The rope pulled tight across her neck. Her feet dangled, bare toes turned in like even in death she was unsure.I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even call for help.I just stood there, silent and still, while everything inside me shut off.That was the moment e

Draven’s fingers stayed stiff at the back of my neck. His breath hitched, but those cold, stormy eyes never left mine.“This isn’t about jealousy,” he said flatly, no trace of kindness in his voice. “This is about control. I don’t love you, Liora. I own you.”The words sliced through something raw inside me, but he wasn’t done.“You want to know the difference between you and Ms. Blackwood?” His grip tightened just enough to make my heart skip. “I love her.”That hit harder than any slap.“I chose her,” he said, each word slow and sharp. “She’s not just someone I control. I care about her. I respect her.”He stepped closer, our bodies brushing, but his eyes looked at me like I was trash. “You? You’re Alaric Hale’s daughter. Raised by the man I should’ve crushed a long time ago.”I couldn’t breathe. His presence was too much, heavy, suffocating.“You were never meant to be loved, Liora. Just used. Broken. Reminded where you belong.”Then he leaned in, his voice barely a whisper, cuttin

DRAVEN’S point of viewI dropped into my seat like a man who didn’t owe anyone a damn thing.Ms. Blackwood followed behind me, hips swaying like she thought she still had my attention. She didn’t. I didn’t even look her way. No pulled chair, no polite nod. That wasn’t who I was, not with her, not with anyone.I picked up my knife and fork and started eating.The silence stretched. She waited and I didn’t care.Then she spoke, her voice dripping with that post-pleasure pride. “Did I make you happy earlier?”I didn’t lift my eyes.“Eat,” I said flatly. “Don’t talk.”The words dropped like ice between us. She flinched, barely noticeable, but I caught it. She turned her attention to her plate, swallowing the insult because she knew better than to test me when I was like this.My jaw worked slowly, chewing through meat that tasted like nothing, because in the back of my mind she was still there.Not Ms. Blackwood but Liora.Watching us earlier.Standing in the doorway like a ghost, soaking