Chapter 5 Claimed by the Alpha
Jolie POV
The motorcycle roars beneath us as we speed through the darkness. Rain starts falling, cold drops stinging my face and mixing with the blood from my forehead cut. I press closer to Ryder's back, feeling the solid warmth of him through the leather jacket.
"Where are we going?" I shout over the engine noise.
"Home," he calls back without turning around.
Home. The word hits me like a punch to the chest. I haven't had a real home in years. Maybe ever.
The other bikes follow us, their headlights cutting through the storm. I count at least six riders, all massive men who smell like wolves. They move in perfect formation around us, protecting us from threats I can't even see.
After twenty minutes, we turn off the main highway onto a narrow mountain road. Pine trees close in on both sides, their branches reaching over the asphalt. The air smells cleaner here.
"Almost there," Ryder says, his voice carrying despite the wind.
The road curves sharply, and suddenly we're pulling up to a massive gate. Security cameras track our movement while one of the riders punches in a code. The gate swings open with a mechanical hum.
Beyond it lies the most intimidating building I've ever seen. It's part fortress, part clubhouse, built from dark stone and timber that blends into the mountainside. Motorcycles line the front like metal horses, all chrome and black paint. Warm light spills from the windows, and I can hear music and laughter from inside.
"Welcome to the Iron Fang compound," Ryder says as he kills the engine.
I slide off the bike on shaky legs, my ribs screaming with every movement. The other riders dismount around us, pulling off helmets to reveal weathered faces and suspicious eyes. They're all looking at me like I'm something that might bite.
"Boss," one of them says, nodding to Ryder.
"Clean pickup?" he continues, eyeing the blood on my face.
"Three enforcers down, but alive." Ryder moves to my side, his hand settling on my lower back. The touch sends electricity up my spine. "They'll have headaches for a week."
The biker crosses his arms over his chest. "And the girl?"
"She's mine." The possessive edge in his voice makes my wolf stir with interest. Ryder's amber eyes scan the group of men. "Anyone who has a problem with that can take it up with me directly."
The bikers exchange glances but don't argue. Whatever Ryder Kane is to them, his word is law.
"Come on." He guides me toward the clubhouse entrance, his palm warm against my spine. "Let's get you looked at."
The inside is even more impressive than the outside. Exposed wooden beams stretch across a cathedral ceiling. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall, with animal heads mounted above it. Pool tables, leather couches, and a well-stocked bar create distinct areas for socializing. Everything screams wealth and power.
But it's the wolves that really get my attention. They're everywhere lounging on couches, playing pool, drinking at the bar. All of them stop what they're doing when we walk in. The silence stretches until I want to crawl under a rock.
"Doc!" Ryder calls out, his voice echoing off the high ceiling.
An older man emerges from what looks like a back office. He's huge, probably six-foot-five, with graying hair and gentle eyes that seem out of place in this rough crowd. When he sees me, his expression softens with concern.
"What happened?" he asks, moving toward us with surprising grace for such a big man.
"Car accident," Ryder says carefully, not meeting anyone's eyes.
"She needs to be checked over," he adds, his hand tightening protectively on my back.
Doc nods and looks at me with kind eyes. "I'm Doc Renard." His voice is gentle but confident. "I patch up the idiots around here when they do stupid things." He gestures toward a doorway marked 'Medical.' "Mind if I take a look at that cut?"
I touch my forehead where the blood has dried. "It's nothing."
"Humor an old medic." He tilts his head with a small smile. "I've got better light back there."
Ryder's hand tightens protectively on my back. "I'll come with you."
"Actually," Doc says with a meaningful look at Ryder, "I work better without an audience." He crosses his arms over his broad chest. "Especially overprotective alphas who hover."
For a second, I think Ryder might argue. His jaw clenches and his eyes flash with something dangerous. But then he nods reluctantly.
"Ten minutes," he tells Doc, his voice low and commanding.
Then he looks at me, those intense amber eyes boring into mine. "If you need anything, you call for me." His hand briefly touches my shoulder. "Understand?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. The way he's looking at me like I'm something precious and fragile makes my chest tight with unfamiliar emotions.
Doc leads me into a surprisingly modern medical facility. Cabinets full of supplies line the walls, and there's an examination table that looks like it belongs in a real hospital.
"Sit," he says gently, patting the table. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
I perch on the edge, wincing as my ribs hurts. Doc moves around me with practiced efficiency, checking my pupils with a small flashlight, prodding gently at the cut on my forehead.
"Mild concussion," he announces, setting down the flashlight. "The cut's not deep enough for stitches." He washes his hands at a small sink. "You're lucky."
"Am I?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
Doc pauses in his examination, turning to study my face. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know what I'm doing here." I stare at my hands, noting the silver burns around my wrists where the zip-ties cut in. "I don't understand why he... why Ryder saved me."
"Maybe because you needed saving." Doc's voice is matter-of-fact as he reaches for antiseptic.
"People don't usually bother." The admission burns my throat.
Doc's expression grows sad as he looks at me. "Then you've been around the wrong people."
He starts cleaning the cut with gentle swabs, and I try not to wince.
"Ryder's never brought a female here before," he says carefully, dabbing at the wound. "You're special to him." He meets my eyes in the mirror across from us. "That makes you special to us but it also makes you a target."
"I don't want to cause trouble." My hands twist in my lap.
"Too late for that, I'm afraid." Doc applies a small bandage to my forehead with steady fingers. "The question is whether you're strong enough to handle what comes next."
"I'm not strong." I say. "Everyone knows that."
"Strength comes in different forms." Doc steps back and studies me with those kind eyes. "Physical power isn't everything." He leans against the counter. "Some of the strongest people I know couldn't win a fight to save their lives."
Before I can ask what he means, the door opens and Ryder fills the doorway. He's even more intimidating in the bright medical lights massive shoulders, tattooed arms, eyes that seem to see everything.
"How is she?" he asks Doc, but his gaze never leaves my face.
"Mild concussion and some bruising." Doc starts putting away his supplies. "But she will be fine with rest."
"But she needs to eat something and get some sleep," he adds, closing a cabinet door.
Ryder nods and moves toward me. "Can you walk?"
"I think so." I slide off the table, trying not to show how much my ribs hurt.
He notices anyway as his hand comes up to steady me, fingers wrapping around my arm with surprising gentleness. "Easy."
"I'm fine." But I don't pull away from his touch.
"You're hurt." His voice drops to that low, dangerous rumble. "And someone's going to pay for that."
The promise in his words should scare me. Instead, my wolf practically purrs with satisfaction.
"Come on," Ryder says, guiding me toward the door. "Let's get you fed and settled in."
As he leads me back into the main room, I catch sight of a woman watching us from the bar. She's beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way, with black hair and hostile eyes that promise trouble.
She raises her beer bottle in a mocking toast. "Welcome to the family, princess."