You can hear music thumping somewhere down the street and you’re already late. You shove your phone into your jacket pocket, your heart fluttering with excitement that feels almost rebellious.

Tonight is supposed to be yours. No Alaric. No Jackson, your brother. No rules.

The party is only a few blocks away. You take two steps down the path...

A low engine growl cuts through the silence.

You freeze, your every instinct screaming at once.

Headlights flare at the end of the street. One bike. One rider. Black leather catches the light and silver chains glint like warning signs. You don't need to see his face to recognise him.

Alaric.

“Oh my...,” you whisper.

He wasn’t supposed to know. He couldn’t know.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket as if mocking you. Earlier, you’d brushed off the weird lag and random apps closing on their own. Now it all falls into place.

He checked it. Hacked it. Of course he did.

The engine revs once, taunting you.

You turn and run.

Your boots slap against the pavement as adrenaline takes over. You don't think or plan; you just move, running down a side street. The party lights glow faintly ahead, and the music grows louder. Behind you, the bike roars to life.

The sound echoes everywhere, bouncing off brick walls and parked cars. He doesn’t rush you. Alaric always knows he’s faster.

You dart between two houses, nearly slipping on the gravel as your lungs burn. You risk a glance over your shoulder.

Bad idea.

He’s closer than he should be.

His helmet is off and his hair is wild from the wind. His blue eyes are fixed on you, his jaw set, his expression carved from pure irritation.

“Don’t,” you gasp under your breath, even as you run faster.

You burst out onto another street, the streetlights flashing above you. The music is now blaring.

You almost make it.

Suddenly, a sharp screech of tyres slices through the night as a motorbike cuts in front of you, skidding sideways with terrifying precision. You slam to a halt and stumble backwards.

He’s off the bike in one smooth motion.

“You really thought running was a good idea?” Alaric chuckles.

You spin around and run the other way, but his hand catches your wrist. He yanks you back effortlessly, snapping you against his chest.

“Let go of me,” you snap. “I didn’t do anything.”

He leans down slightly, close enough that you can smell leather, smoke and something unmistakably him.

“You lied,” he says flatly. “You snuck out. And you thought I wouldn’t notice.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

A corner of his mouth twitches. “Funny,” he murmurs. “Because you sure act like someone who knows better than to pull this stuff.”

He releases your wrist only to grab the back of your jacket instead, preventing you from stepping away.

“You checked my phone,” you accuse. “That’s messed up.”

His eyes darken. “You left it unlocked,” he says. “And you owe me.”

He stands up straight, towering over you and blocking your path. The bike idles behind him, its engine purring patiently, as if it already knows how this will end.

“You’re not going to that party,” he growls. “Not tonight.”

“And if I try again?” you challenge.

His gaze lingers on you for a beat too long. “Then I’ll catch you again, trouble,” he whispers. “And next time, I won’t let you get this far.”