Fake Dating My Ex Alpha Mate’s Rival Biker Stepbrother のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

DRAVENCold water hits my face like a slap.I inhale sharply, body jerking upright as wet sand shifts beneath my palms. My head pounds immediately — a deep, dull ache behind my eyes that pulses with every heartbeat.For a moment, I don’t know where I am.The sky above me is pale morning gray. The sound of waves rolls steadily in the background. The smell of salt and alcohol lingers around me.Then memory settles in.The beach.The whiskey.Her door.Her eyes.“You have a race today,” a voice says sharply. “A semi-final race, and you’re here drunk.”I drag my hands down my face and blink hard. My vision clears enough to see Thane standing over me with two pack members behind him.Concern and annoyance on their faces.I turn my head slowly and see empty whiskey bottles scattered across the sand like evidence of a crime.I slept here.Of course I did.My throat feels dry and raw, like I swallowed broken glass.Yesterday evening returns in fragments.Walking down the hallway.Standing at

It’s finally a week before the tournament ends. The air feels different today. Tighter. Heavier. Like everything is slowly narrowing toward something unavoidable. Calix and I walk side by side into the tournament grounds, the noise hitting us immediately. Wolves from different packs crowd the barriers, shouting, laughing, arguing. Some cheer for their own riders. Others yell insults across the track. The smell of fuel, dust, and sweat hangs thick in the air. This is the last semi-final race. The one that decides who meets Draven in the finals. My stomach twists at the thought. I don’t let it show. Calix walks beside me like none of it bothers him. Calm. Steady. His hand brushes lightly against my back as we move through the crowd, guiding me without making it obvious. He still does that sometimes. Checks that I’m steady without asking. We reach the riders’ area where the Ironclaws bikers are gathered around their machines. Engines rumble occasionally, short bursts o

RHIANNONThe roar of the crowd hits me like a physical force.It shakes the ground beneath my boots. It vibrates through my ribs. It fills my ears until it becomes impossible to think past it.Ironclaws won.Calix won.His bike tears past the finish line, the engine screaming like a living thing, wild and untamed. The sound echoes off the concrete barriers and metal stands. The scent of burning rubber and gasoline hangs heavy in the air, thick enough to taste.People surge forward around me, shouting, laughing, celebrating. Some of them throw their hands into the air. Others clap each other on the back. Money changes hands quickly. Bets won. Bets lost.But I don’t move.Calix slows down gradually, his boots scraping against the pavement as he steadies the machine beneath him. He swings his leg over and stands, pulling off his helmet in one smooth motion.His dark hair is damp with sweat. Strands fall over his forehead. And then his eyes find me.His mouth curves into a smile.And some

RHIANNONThe tournament has finally come to an end.At least, that’s what everyone keeps saying.Three months of races. Three months of noise. Three months of living like I wasn't suffocating.And now it all comes down to today.The final race.Calix and Draven.Just thinking their names together makes something in my chest tighten.I stare at my reflection in the mirror, sitting in front of the dressing table. My hands move automatically. Foundation. Blend. Powder.I don’t even remember picking up half the things I use.My face looks calm in the mirror.Too calm.I lean closer and run the gloss across my lips slowly.My hand pauses halfway through.For a second, I remember what happened last week.I press my lips together, spreading the gloss evenly.Last week was draining.Not just last week.Everything.The races. The tension. Calix. Draven. The bond that refuses to die quietly.I thought coming here would be simple.Support Calix.Play my part.Leave.But nothing about this has be

Draven crosses the finish line first.Calix crosses seconds after him.For a moment, neither of them moves.Engines running. The crowd was screaming.And then Calix turns his head.Draven turns his too.And they look at each other.It isn’t loud between them.Not like the crowd.It’s quiet.But it feels heavier than everything else.Like something invisible just passed between them. Something only they understand.Something that doesn’t need words.Calix looks away first.He swings his leg off the bike and lands on his feet. His movements are sharp, but controlled.Even from here, I can see it. The anger. Not loud anger. The kind he buries under his skin.The commentator’s voice cuts through the noise, loud and excited.“WE HAVE A WINNER! DRAVEN, ALPHA OF MIDNIGHT MC TAKES THE FINAL RACE!”The crowd erupts again.Some cheer louder.Some groan.Some clap.Some stand in stunned silence.But Calix doesn’t react.He pulls his helmet off, his jaw tight, his hair damp from sweat. He runs a