Chapter 3 The Monster Within
The sound of roaring engines split the night like thunder.
Dozens of bikes circled the courtyard, their headlights slashing through mist and smoke. The Ironfang Pack were home, drunk on adrenaline, blood, and victory from their latest raid.
From the balcony above them, Ryker Kael stood shirtless, muscles slick with sweat, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
The moon hung behind him like a blade, half veiled by cloud. Below, his pack howled, wild and savage, his beloved creation.
He watched them with a quiet pride, a king surveying his dark kingdom.
The Ironfang weren’t just a biker gang, they were an empire built on brotherhood and loyalty sealed in blood. But despite how cold Ryker was, there was an itch he couldn’t scratch since the night the girl appeared on his road.
She haunted his thoughts like smoke, that strange mix of fear and defiance in her eyes, the way her scent clung to him long after she was gone. Every instinct screamed she was danger, but something deeper whispered she was fate.
Behind him, soft hands wrapped around his waist.
“Still thinking about her?” Tessa’s voice was sweet.
This was his new lover, she'd been that for a few months.
Ryker didn’t answer.
She pressed her body to his back, nails grazing his skin. “She’s just some stray, Ryker. You don’t need to worry your head—”
He caught her wrist, twisting it just enough to make her gasp. “Don’t tell me what I need.”
Her breath hitched, half fear, half arousal. “You’ve changed since she came. You barely touch me anymore.”
Ryker turned, his eyes dark. “You’re jealous of a girl who doesn’t even know her own name.”
Tessa’s jaw tightened. “Maybe I’m jealous because you look at her like you used to look at me.”
He stepped away, ending the conversation. “Get dressed. We have company.”
By the time he entered the main hall, his men stood in a rough circle, and at the center — chained but unharmed — was a man dressed in sand-colored robes, his face marked with the emblem of the Crescent Clan.
Ryker’s lieutenant, Cole, looked uneasy. “He rode in from the east border, says he’s here for her.”
Ryker’s stomach turned to ice. “For who?”
“The girl you picked up,” the stranger said. His accent was smooth, old-world. “She belongs to us. Irene Cross, daughter of Darius Cross, Alpha of the Crescent Clan. She's been missing for two months.”
A slow murmur ran through the pack. Ryker didn’t move. “She’s no one’s property.”
“She’s a bounty,” the man replied calmly, handing him a folded parchment. “Five million for her return. Ten if she’s alive and untouched.”
Tessa, who’d followed in silently, gasped. “Five million?”
Ryker ignored her, his eyes fixed on the paper. The sketch was crude, but unmistakable — those mismatched eyes, one silver, one gold.
“So,” the stranger continued, “will you take the money, or will I take her myself?”
Ryker’s gaze darkened. “You’re in my territory. You don’t take anything without bleeding for it.”
“I've been sent here to take her back!"
Ryker glared at him, “How do I know you're not here for the bounty yourself?"
"Who fucking cares? Hand her over! You savage bikers don't know what to do with a purebred werewolf anyways!”
Ryker had heard enough, he grabbed the man by the throat, slammed him against the wall. The parchment fluttered to the floor.
“Get out,” Ryker said coldly. “Before I change my mind.”
The stranger didn’t resist. “You will wish you didn't do that! No one messes with Cross!”
And with that, he vanished into the night.
Later that night, Ryker found himself standing outside the locked room where she slept. He could hear her breathing, soft and uneven, her heartbeat syncing with his like a pulse he couldn’t escape.
He should hand her over. Five million could buy a lot of peace. But peace had never interested him.
He unlocked the door.
Inside, Irene was awake, sitting on the bed, pale light cutting across her face. “I heard the bikes,” she whispered. “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes traced her — the curve of her neck, the bruises fading along her arms. Even in rags, she looked otherworldly, something carved from moonlight and sin.
“You remember your name now,” he said at last.
She frowned. “No.”
He stepped closer, and she flinched. “Why are you afraid of me?”
“Because you look scary.”
The confession was quiet, but it hit him like a bullet.
“Then maybe I'm dangerous,” he murmured, almost to himself.
“I can't sleep. I feel something inside me trying to break out, I have nightmares," she told him shakily.
Ryker had heard all about it from the nurse. He didn't know how to help her but sending her off with some man seemed foolish.
“Can you help me?" She asked softly, visibly trembling.
Before he could respond, she convulsed, falling off the bed, her body twisting in pain. Ryker rushed to her side, catching her just as her back arched violently. Her pulse was erratic, her skin hot as fire.
“Irene!” He called out, hoping that her name would help somehow.
It did. She suddenly stopped shaking and growled deeply. It was an animalistic sound.
“Calm down, we know who you are. Your name is Irene Cross and we think you've been missing."
Her eyes flew open and he was shocked.
One was gold, one crimson, glowing like molten glass. He watched as her canines lengthened, sharp as daggers, and her nails grew into claws that ripped the floorboards beneath her.
This was nothing like a werewolf. Ryker could swear on that.
For a split second, Ryker saw both beasts within her, the wolf’s snarl, the vampire’s hunger. It was unnatural, impossible.
Her scream tore through the walls, echoing like thunder and the rest of the pack came running.
Cole froze in the doorway. “What the fuck, Ryker? What's she?”
“You think I know that?” he growled.
She was on her knees, shaking, half-shifted, half-human, fur spreading down one arm, veins blackening on the other. Her blood dripped onto the floor, and the scent hit them like a drug.
Ryker knew that only one thing could make him feel weak on the spot.
Vampire blood.
Tessa stumbled back, horrified. “She’s both vampire and werewolf. She's a fucking hybrid!”