All Chapters of The Biker Alpha Who Claimed Me Again: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The morning after the rain felt too quiet, like the world was holding its breath.I woke on a narrow bed in a room that smelled faintly of soap and engine oil, the kind of place meant for passing through, not staying. Pale light slipped through half-closed blinds, cutting the room into uneven stripes. For a moment, I didn’t move. I listened instead to the distant hum of traffic, to the low clink of metal somewhere outside, to my own breathing as it slowly steadied.I wasn’t alone.He sat in the chair by the window, elbows on his knees, a mug of coffee cradled in his hands. His jacket hung on the back of the chair like a shed skin. No leather. No armor. Just him in a plain black shirt, hair still damp, expression thoughtful in a way I rarely saw.He looked up when I shifted.“You’re awake,” he said.Not good morning. Not how do you feel. Just a fact. Acknowledged. Respected.“Didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I replied, pushing myself upright.“You didn’t pass out,” he said. “You chose rest

The road stretched ahead of me like a held breath. Night had settled fully by the time I left the warehouse, the rain thinning into a fine mist that clung to my windshield and blurred the city lights into soft halos. I drove slower than usual, not because the road demanded it, but because my mind did. Some moments don’t like to be rushed. They expand if you let them. They ask you to sit with them, even when they’re uncomfortable. Especially then. I didn’t turn on the radio. Silence felt more appropriate. My thoughts were loud enough. I hadn’t lied to him. Not tonight. That alone felt like a small victory. For so long, honesty between us had been something sharp used only when it could wound or defend. Tonight it had been different. Quieter. Heavier. Like placing something fragile on a table and stepping back instead of throwing it. By the time I reached my apartment, my chest felt tight, but steady. Resolve did that to me. It didn’t erase fear. It organized it. I climbed the st

The first argument didn’t come with shouting.That surprised me.It arrived quietly, like a shift in air pressure, the kind you feel in your bones before the storm actually breaks. We were riding together for the first time in years, not touching, not rushing, just moving side by side through open road. The sky was clear, the asphalt warm, the horizon wide enough to lie to you about how simple things could be.I knew better.We stopped at a fuel station outside the city, the kind with flickering lights and tired attendants who didn’t ask questions. He cut his engine and removed his helmet, running a hand through his hair. I did the same, shaking mine loose, letting the wind cool the thoughts buzzing under my skin.“You’re quiet,” he said.“So are you,” I replied.“That’s different.”I raised an eyebrow. “How?”“I’m quiet when I’m thinking ahead,” he said. “You’re quiet when you’re deciding whether to say something that might upset the balance.”I almost smiled. Almost.“Maybe I’m deci

The apartment smelled like him before he even entered. Leather, motor oil, and something sharp that set my nerves on fire. I hadn’t realized how much I craved it until now. He moved with that quiet authority I’d known so well, every step deliberate, like the floor itself obeyed his presence.“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but it came out thinner, almost breathless.“You think you get to surprise me?” he countered, tilting his head. His smirk was slow, predatory. “I’ve been finding you in my head since the last time. You’re not hiding from me, not really.”I swallowed hard, feeling my chest tighten. Every nerve screamed, and every heartbeat seemed louder in the quiet room. There was no denying it. He did own a part of me the part that had always known, deep down, that running was pointless. He’d claimed me before, and now, standing here, I realized that claim had never really left.He stepped closer, close enough that the warmth radi

By noon, everyone knew.Not in the dramatic, headline way. Not yet. But the kind of knowing that traveled through glances, lowered voices, and the way people paused just a little too long when they saw me walk past. The kind of knowing that lived in the air.I felt it before I heard it.He rode beside me through the city, not touching, not hovering, but close enough that there was no mistaking what we were. His presence had weight. People moved out of our way without realizing they were doing it. A man bumped into me outside a café, glanced up to apologize, then caught sight of him and stopped mid sentence.That was new.I wasn’t invisible anymore.“You okay?” he asked quietly as we walked.“Yes,” I said, then corrected myself. “No. But I will be.”He nodded like that answer mattered. “That’s all I need.”We didn’t go to the club right away. That surprised me. Instead, he took me somewhere quieter—an old garage on the edge of town that smelled like oil and history. Bikes lined the wal