5
It was the middle of the night.
The streets were quiet. No cars. No people. Just the soft sound of her running steps and the piercing roar of engines behind her.
The blonde girl’s breath came out in sharp, painful gasps.
Her bare feet slapped against the cold pavement as she clutched the oversized hoodie tighter around her frame.
Her legs were burning, her lungs were on fire but she didn't stop .
She couldn’t.
Not with the sound of tires screeching behind her. Not with the blinding headlights chasing her shadow.
She turned into an alley, praying—just praying—that it would lead somewhere. Anywhere.
But it didn’t.
Dead end.
She spun around.
The gang had already caught up.
Five massive bikes, their engines growling like wild animals.
Each rider wore a leather jacket and a skull helmet.
One of them revved his engine louder, taunting her. Another removed his helmet, revealing a scar across his cheek and a twisted grin.
“Well, well,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “Look what we’ve got here.”
She backed up until her spine hit the wall. Her hands trembled at her sides.
“Please…” she whispered, voice barely coming out.
“Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” one of them said, sliding off his bike. “We just wanna talk.”
But their eyes said otherwise.
She glanced to her left, then right. No doors. No exits.
Her heart thundered in her chest.
The sound of heavy boots echoed through the alley before the bikes even went silent.
A black Harley screeched to a halt in front of the others. The gang fell quiet. Like wolves bowing to their alpha.
Out stepped him.
Raze Maddox.
The king of the streets. Covered in black leather, tattoos crawling up his neck, a chain hanging from his jeans—and a cold, silver gun gripped loosely in his hand like it was just part of him.
He didn't speak at first. Just walked up to the girl—slow, calm, like he had all the time in the world.
Her lips trembled. Her knees threatened to give out.
Then his voice came, deep and low like a warning thunder.
“Where... is Red?”
The girl flinched at the sound. Her eyes dropped to the gun he casually raised and aimed right between her eyes.
“I—I don’t know,” she stammered, hands shaking as she held them up. “I swear... I haven’t seen her since the strip club.”
His eyes didn’t blink. His finger didn’t move from the trigger.
“I swear!” she cried louder, panicking now. “After our set she just disappeared! I thought she left with some customer, but no one saw her leave. Please... I’m telling the truth.”
Raze tilted his head, studying her. His silence was louder than the bike engines.
The rest of the crew watched, no one daring to speak. The only sound was the girl’s heavy, fearful breathing.
“Strip club, huh?” Raze muttered, more to himself than anyone.
He finally lowered the gun. Just a little.
“Find out who she left with,” he ordered his men without taking his eyes off the girl. “And lock down the club. No one gets in or out till I say.”
Then he stepped closer, so close the girl could see the faded blood stains on his shirt.
“If you’re lying…” he whispered, “pray someone finds Red before I do.”
The blonde girl was trembling now, her mascara smudged and lips quivering.
“I-I think…” she stuttered, eyes darting to the floor as if afraid of her own words. “Red might’ve… left with a customer.”
The second those words left her lips, the air turned dangerous.
Raze’s head snapped toward her so fast, one of his men took a step back.
“She dared?” he said, voice sharp like broken glass.
His jaw clenched. His eyes went dark. That deadly kind of quiet rage that always came before someone got hurt.
“She fucking dared?” he repeated, a storm rising in his voice. “I’m the only one who deserves her first time…”
The girl bit her lip, swallowing hard, terrified she’d said the wrong thing.
He didn’t even look at her again. His attention shifted like she no longer existed.
He turned to his crew. “Split up. I want eyes on every damn street, club, and alley in this city.”
His voice dropped low, like a growl. “You don’t come back without Red. I want results. Not excuses.”
The men jumped into action, scattering like shadows on command.
Raze stood still for a second, staring at nothing—then slipped his gun back into his waistband.
“Wherever you are, Red,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re mine. And I’m coming for you.
“Get lost,” Raze Maddox said coldly.
The blonde didn’t wait. She jumped to her feet like her life depended on it—and maybe it did—and ran without looking back. Her heels slapped against the pavement as she disappeared into the night.
She was lucky. So damn lucky.
Raze didn’t usually let people go.
He was the king of The Snakes, the most feared biker club in the entire city. The name alone made men sweat and women whisper. Ruthless, cold-blooded, and untouchable—that was Raze Maddox.
There were rumors. That he once burned down a whole bar because someone looked at him wrong. That he buried a man alive for touching what was his. No one dared question him—not if they wanted to breathe the next day.
But if there was one soft spot in his heart—if he even had a heart—it was Red.
She was his obsession.
His childhood sweetheart.
The only girl he ever gave a damn about.
He still remembered her tiny hands in his. Her laughter echoing in the streets while he fought off boys who made her cry. Even as a kid, Raze was dangerous. But for Red? He was her protector. Her shield. Her secret shadow.
And the years only made it worse.
He warned her—more than once.
“No man touches you. No one takes your first but me.”
It wasn't a request. It was a promise.
One she better not break.
Because if she did… there’d be no running from what came next.
A member of The Snakes walked in, helmet under one arm, head slightly bowed. “Boss,” he said, voice rough, “we checked every corner of the strip club. Talked to the girls, the owner, even the damn janitor. Nobody’s seen her since midnight.”
He hesitated.
“She’s… declared missing.”