Claimed By The Alpha, Marked By The Biker-Chapter 50: My biggest Regret

Kianna’s Pov:

I sat cross-legged on my dorm bed, knees pulled to my chest, phone clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles had gone white.

The screen was dark now, but the images were burned into my mind: Maddox’s laughing face lit by the glow of someone else’s phone, Emily stumbling, tears mixing with spilled beer, his friends jeering in the background.

The caption—"Beating your enemy at his own game"—felt like it was aimed straight at me.

I’d scrolled past it the first time, thinking it was just another rumor. Then I watched the videos three times going on the Fourth.

Each replay made my stomach twist harder until I had to drop the phone and press my palms to my eyes to stop the room from spinning.

How could I have been so stupid?

All those weeks of him being sweet—bringing me coffee exactly how I liked it, helping me to heal, texting good-night like clockwork—had felt real.

He’d looked me in the eyes and sworn he’d changed, that the old Maddox was gone.

And I’d believed him. I’d chosen him over Mordred’s warnings, over the quiet voice in my head that kept whispering something’s wrong.

I’d let him fool me again.My chest ached like someone had reached in and squeezed my heart. I hated how much it hurt. Hated that I’d let myself hope.

Hated that in less than two weeks—on the night I turn nineteen...he’ll be able to claim me as his fated mate.

The bond will snap into place whether I want it or not, and a guy who can laugh while tormenting someone weaker will have a magical, unbreakable claim on me.

I curled forward, forehead against my knees, and finally let the tears come. Hot, silent at first, then louder—ugly sobs that shook my whole body.

I cried for trusting him, for ignoring Mordred, for every moment I’d spent smiling at Maddox like he was my future. I cried because everything around me felt like a sick game: power plays, secrets and anonymous accounts dropping bombs just to watch us burn.

Who even was ShadowExpose? Someone who hated Maddox enough to follow him, to hide a camera, to wait for the perfect moment to destroy him?

Part of me was grateful that they’d shown me the truth before it was too late. But another part wondered what they really wanted.

Was this about justice for Emily... or something bigger? A revenge plot? Were they using Maddox to get to someone else? To get to me?

And then the worst thought hit: what if everything Maddox ever told me about Mordred was a lie?

what if this was what Mordred was trying to explain all along? I’m starting to doubt the scene at pearl street, I mean how could so stupid...it was obvious that something was wrong.

Did he set Mordred up making me see him as a bastard? Damnit...I’d believed it. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain, I’d cut him out of my life because of it. But now... now I wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw stars. "I’m such an idiot," I whispered into the empty room. "This is all my fault."

The tears slowed eventually, leaving me hollow and exhausted. I didn’t bother turning on the lights as evening crept in; the dim glow from the string lights around my window was enough.

I just sat there, replaying every moment, every choice I’ve made and began hating myself for all of them.

Ahhh! How can I be so naive? I listened to the predator and allowed myself to hate the one my heart belonged to.

Just as I was lost drowning in my thoughts my doorbell rang suddenly, making me flinch.

I wiped my face quickly, hoping whoever it was would go away. But they didn’t, It rang again. Then a soft knock followed by a soft masculine voice.

"Kianna? It’s me."

I recognized it immediately, Lysander. I exhaled shakily and padded to the door, cracking it open just enough for him to see my puffy eyes and red nose. His easy smile faltered the second he took me in.

"Oh, God," he murmured, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation and pulling me into a gentle hug. I froze for a second, before finally relaxing into it.

He smelled like paint thinner and cinnamon gum—comfort smells. "Have you heard the circulating news on the forum?"

I shook my head against his shoulder. "I already know," I mumbled. "I saw it hours ago."

He guided me back to the bed, sat me down, and perched beside me, rubbing slow circles on my back like he always did when the world felt too heavy.

"I figured. You’ve been ghosting everyone all day, so I asked Lesley for your location."

I sighed, then turned to face him properly.

"I didn’t want to talk about it. I just... needed to be alone with how stupid I feel."

"You’re not stupid," he said firmly. "You’re kind. You wanted to believe people can change...that’s not a flaw."

I gave a wet laugh. "Tell that to my heartbreak."

Lysander bumped my shoulder lightly. "Come on..get up. You’re coming with me."

"I’m really not in the mood to.."

"Shopping," he cut in cheerfully. "I’ve got that big art contest coming up—the one with the scholarship to Art college and I need supplies. Paints, brushes, maybe some new canvas. And I need my favorite muse to help me choose colors and styles. I’m completely uninspired without you."

I eyed him suspiciously. "You’re lying. You already have a whole studio full of supplies."

He grinned, unrepentant. "Maybe I do, but I just want to get new ones and I have something urgent to see too."

I hesitated. Staying here meant more crying and more spiraling. "Fine," I sighed, grabbing my coat and scarf. "But if you make me carry anything heavy, I’m leaving you there."

The cold night air did feel good against my hot cheeks as we walked across campus toward the main street.

Lysander kept up a steady stream of chatter—complaining about his professor, describing the surrealist piece he wanted to submit, asking my opinion on color palettes. I let it wash over me, grateful he wasn’t forcing me to talk about Maddox.

But when we reached the shopping district, he steered me past the art supply store completely.

"Lysander..."

"Change of plans," he announced, looping his arm through mine. "Therapy first, art supplies second."

He dragged me into the old cinema on the corner—the one with the faded red curtains and the sticky floors that still showed movies for five bucks.

He bought tickets to some new dumb comedy I’d never heard of, plus a giant popcorn and two sodas.

"I hate you," I muttered as we settled into the back row.

"No, you don’t," he whispered, tossing a kernel at me. "You love me. Now shush, movie’s starting."

And for ninety minutes, I actually laughed. Real, helpless laughs that hurt my sides and made my eyes water for a different reason.

Lysander kept leaning over to make terrible commentary, stealing my popcorn, draping his jacket over my shoulders when I shivered. For a little while, the weight lifted.

When the credits rolled and we stepped out into the chilly night, I felt... not fixed, but lighter.

"Thank you," I said quietly as we lingered by the entrance. "I needed that."

He smiled softly. "Told you. Everything’s going to be..."

"Kianna."

The voice cut through the night like ice water down my spine. I turned slowly.

Maddox stood a few feet away, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, face shadowed under the cinema marquee lights.

Even from here I could see the swelling around his nose and the dark bruises blooming across his cheek and lip. He looked like he’d been in a fight and lost.

Lysander stiffened beside me, stepping half in front of me protectively.

"Kianna, please," Maddox said, voice rough. "Just let me explain. It’s not what it looks like. I swear.."

"Save it," Lysander snapped. "She doesn’t want to hear it."

Maddox’s eyes flicked to him, jaw tightening. "This isn’t your business, Lysander."

"It is when you keep hurting her." Lysander’s tone was calm but edged with steel. "Walk away, Maddox."

Maddox ignored him, taking a step closer to me, desperation clear in every line of his body. "Kianna, dear, please. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking."

My throat closed up. I wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to ask why he kept doing this—why he kept making me feel like I was losing my mind. But the words wouldn’t come.

Lysander’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. "Let’s go," he murmured.

I nodded numbly, letting him pull me past Maddox toward the street. I didn’t look back, even when I heard Maddox call my name again, voice cracking.

The cold air hit my face as we walked away, but this time it didn’t feel cleansing. It felt like the start of something worse.

Because no matter how far I ran, in less than two weeks the bond would lock into place.

And I still didn’t know if I’d be bound forever to a monster—or if the real monster was the one trying to tear us apart.