Claimed By The Alpha, Marked By The Biker-Chapter 58: All work and no play

Mordred’s PoV:

The wind bit at my knuckles as I idled the bike outside Kianna’s dorm, the engine’s low rumble the only sound cutting through the late-afternoon gray.

December cold had settled in hard, the kind that sneaked under your jacket and sat on your chest like a warning. I killed the ignition and pulled off my helmet, running a hand through hair that was probably a mess.

My heart was doing something similar—thumping too loud and too fast. I hadn’t felt this nervous since the night I first asked her out using fake dating as an excuse, back when everything between us was new, electric and uncomplicated.

I’d texted her this morning on impulse, after another sleepless night haunted by the Boss’s warnings and the ticking clock on her birthday.

"Can we talk? In person. No agenda, I just miss you."

Her reply had taken three hours before it came with a simple, "Okay...but just talking."

Now here I was, boots planted on the cracked sidewalk, staring at the dorm door like it might open onto a different life.

When it finally did, Kianna stepped out in an oversized hoodie, scarf loose around her neck with her cheeks already pink from the cold.

She looked smaller than I remembered, or maybe that was just the weight she was carrying—the bond, the secrets and the fear. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ears, and those eyes, the ones that used to light up when she saw me coming down the hall, were cautious now, almost too guarded.

"Hey," I said, the word coming out rougher than I intended.

"Hey." She hugged her arms across her chest, then offered a small, hesitant smile that still managed to punch the air out of my lungs. "You really brought the bike."

"Figured you might want the wind in your face for a while." I handed her the spare helmet, matte black with a faint scratch on the visor from last summer’s ride with the Vipers. "If you’re still up for it."

She took it, fingers brushing mine for half a second. That tiny contact sent a jolt straight through me—nothing magical, just the old spark that had always existed between us.

She studied my face like she was looking for traps, then nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere loud," I said. "Somewhere you can scream if you want and no one asks why."

Her lips twitched. "Trust you?"

"Always have," I answered before I could stop myself.

She pulled the helmet on, swung a leg over the back of the bike, and settled in behind me.

Her arms slid around my waist—tentative at first, then firmer, like muscle memory kicking in.

I started the engine, and we rolled out of the campus lot, city streets blurring into the highway.

The ride was short but perfect. The cold air whipped past us, carrying away the staleness of dorm rooms and unanswered questions.

I felt her relax by degrees—her grip loosening from survival-hold to something almost comfortable with her body leaning with mine into the curves.

For twenty minutes, there was just the roar of the engine, the bite of winter, and the warmth of her pressed against my back.

I took her to the winter pop-up carnival on the old fairgrounds—the one the locals called Sucker’s Circus. It only ran a few weeks a year: a ramshackle collection of floodlights, diesel generators, and death-defying stunts.

Motorcycle daredevils on the Wall of Death, clowns juggling chainsaws and tightrope walkers crossing flaming pits.

Cheap, loud, gloriously chaotic. The kind of place where you could forget the world was ending for a couple of hours.

We parked among rows of Harleys and rusted pickups. I paid for tickets before she could argue, then led her through the chain-link gate.

The air hit us immediately—diesel fumes, burnt sugar, popcorn, and the sharp crackle of generators.

Engines screamed inside the massive wooden silo as riders defied gravity, circling vertically at breakneck speed. Sparks showered from their exhausts.

Kianna stopped dead, eyes wide. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

"Never been?" I asked, grinning.

She shook her head, a laugh bubbling out—real, surprised, the sound I’d missed more than I could admit. "This is insane. Lesley would lose her mind here."

"Then document it," I said, pulling out my phone. "Send her proof we’re living her circus fantasies."

She did—snapping photos of the painted clowns doing backflips off unicycles, the fire-breather painting the night orange, the daredevils gunning their throttles inside the silo until the wood vibrated.

She leaned into me to get better angles, and I let my arm settle around her shoulders like it still belonged there. She didn’t pull away.

We found seats on the rickety bleachers for the main show. The announcer’s voice boomed over crackling speakers, introducing the tightrope act.

A woman in sequins walked a wire forty feet up, no net, flames licking at both ends. Kianna clutched my sleeve when the walker slipped, gasping aloud when she caught herself at the last second.

The crowd roared. Kianna’s laugh rang out with them, bright and unguarded.

When the finale came—a rider launching his bike through a ring of fire—she whooped louder than anyone around us, jumping to her feet.

For the first time in months, the tension around her eyes was gone. She looked young and free, just like the Kianna I want to see every day.

After the show, we wandered the midway. She bought cotton candy the size of her head, tearing off pink clouds and stuffing them in her mouth until her lips were stained sugar-sweet. I stole a piece just to watch her pretend to be annoyed.

"This was perfect," she said quietly as we leaned against a railing, watching the Wall of Death riders cool down. "I didn’t know how much I needed it."

I wanted to tell her everything then—the Boss, the warnings, the countdown, how every day without her felt like losing ground. But tonight was for her. One night without the weight.

Just as I thought everything was going my way, my phone buzzed. I didn’t want to check at first, then came another ping.

It was a text message from an unknown number, boss as usual. It says..

"Leave the location now. Take Kianna with you....Something is about to happen.

Ice slid down my spine. Again. He’d found me again—traced the phone, maybe, or just... knew. Always knew where I was. I could picture that distorted laugh of his from afar.

Damnit, that psycho is trying to play mind games again. This was supposed to be a fun day but hell no, he wants to ruin it.

Kianna was laughing with a clown handing out balloons, oblivious. I could grab her, invent an emergency to get her out.

But something stubborn rose in me. Who was he to control my night? To scare me off every time I got her smiling again?

I pocketed the phone and ignored it. We stayed another hour—watched the late show, shared the last of the cotton candy, took a ridiculous selfie with sparks flying behind us. She was relaxed and glowing, making the shadows under her eyes disappear.

As the crowd thinned and the lights dimmed for closing, we headed toward the food trucks parked just outside the gate. The air was thick with fried dough and exhaust. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

And there he was.

Kristen Hale—leaning against a metal railing, arms crossed, watching the exit like he’d been waiting for someone. Tall, dark hair, green eyes that locked on Kianna the second she appeared.

She froze. "Kristen?"

He straightened, surprise flashing before melting into a warm, genuine smile. "Kianna. Hey."

They hugged—quick, familiar, the easy affection of shared childhoods. I stood there, hands in pockets, feeling suddenly like an outsider.

She turned to me, eyes bright with the coincidence. "Mordred, this is Kristen—from the old pack. Kristen, Mordred."

We shook hands. His grip was firm, measuring. "Heard about you," he said. Not hostile, exactly. Just... assessing.

"Likewise."

Kianna looked between us, then laughed—a delighted, surprised sound. "This is insane. What are you doing here?"

"Needed a break," Kristen said, shrugging. "Didn’t expect company." His gaze flicked to me again, then back to her. "You look happy tonight."

"I am," she admitted. Her eyes drifted to the permanent amusement park next door—Ferris wheel turning lazily, colored lights reflecting off the lake. "I’ve never actually been to that one. Either of you?"

Kristen shook his head.

I shrugged. "Never had the chance."

Her grin turned mischievous, the old Kianna I remembered from late-night adventures. "Then we’re fixing that. All three of us. First-time riders’ club."

I opened my mouth to protest—three’s a crowd, and I’d finally gotten her alone—but the pure joy on her face stopped me cold. I couldn’t steal that.

"Lead the way," I said.

We bought wristbands and plunged in. The park was quieter than the circus, but the lights were brighter—neon pinks and blues painting the paths, music pulsing from every ride.

Kianna dragged us straight to the bumper cars, ramming both of us with gleeful precision, her laughter echoing over the sparks.

Then the drop tower, where she clutched my arm on one side and Kristen’s on the other as we plummeted, screaming into the night.

In line for the massive coaster, she teased me. "I can’t believe you’ve never been to an amusement park. I figured you grew up in one of those brooding mafia families—don’t they have private carnivals and pony rides or something?"

I snorted. "I didn’t have a family, just a master who didn’t care if I ate or breathed, as long as I stayed useful."

The laughter faded from her eyes. "Mordred... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean..."

"It’s fine," I said quickly, forcing a grin. "Old news."

Kristen jumped in, voice light. "Mine wasn’t exactly cotton-candy either. Pack exile after the rejection. Lycans took me in, but amusement parks weren’t on the curriculum."

We all laughed—awkward at first, then genuine. For a little while, the three of us moved like friends instead of rivals. Kianna’s joy was infectious, and even Kristen and I traded reluctant smiles over her head.

The line shuffled forward. We were near the front when it happened.

A voice—low, amused, unmistakably the Boss’s distorted tone...whispered right against my ear.

"So you decided to disobey me, isn’t it?"

I whipped around instantly.A woman stood directly behind me—mid-thirties, had a tired smile on her face...holding a squirming toddler on her hip.

The kid was playing with her necklace, babbling happily. She met my stare with mild confusion, then turned to coo at her child.

Not her, Couldn’t be her.

But the voice had been clear as day, intimate as breath.

My skin crawled. I scanned the line—families, couples, groups of teens and so on. None of them looked suspicious.

Kianna touched my elbow. "You okay? You went pale."

"Yeah," I lied, forcing a smile that felt like plastic. "Just... thought I heard my name."

The attendant waved us forward. We climbed into the coaster car—Kianna in the middle, Kristen on her left, me on her right. The safety bar lowered with a hydraulic hiss.

As the chain lift clacked upward, slow and inexorable, I stared out over the glittering park and felt the warning settle in my bones.

I’d ignored that psycho. And whatever was coming, it was already here.The car crested the peak, paused for that breathless heartbeat, then plunged.

We screamed into the dark.

But the real fall hadn’t started yet.