Claimed By The Alpha, Marked By The Biker-Chapter 37: The Hockey Game Party

The morning light filtered through the dorm curtains like a reluctant visitor, casting pale stripes across my bed.

I woke slowly, my body heavy, as if the night had pressed down on me like a weight I couldn’t shake.

The white rose from last night lay crushed on my nightstand, petals bruised and wilted, a stark reminder that the quiet wasn’t peace, it was something waiting to shatter.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, but the exhaustion clung like fog. I felt drained, like someone had siphoned the energy from my bones while I slept.

The doubt about Lysander, the sudden apology from Maddox, the eerie silence from the chaos and now a white rose from an unknown.....all piled up, leaving me hollow.

Lesley was already up, perched on her bed with a mug of instant coffee and scrolling her phone.

She looked up when I stirred, her face softening. "You okay? You tossed a lot last night."

"Yeah," I lied, swinging my legs over the edge. "Just... weird dreams." I didn’t tell her about the fact that the rose was the problem.She had enough nightmares of her own.

We got ready in companionable silence, her blasting some upbeat playlist to chase away the gloom, me staring at my reflection in the mirror, wondering if the girl looking back was strong enough for whatever came next.

The campus felt different as we walked to classes, the air crisp but heavy, like the world was holding its breath.

I kept my head down, but my mind raced. I couldn’t shake off the sudden suspicion that was creeping its way into my life. Who left the rose? How did they get so close?

BioChem was a blur. Professor Harlan’s voice droned on about enzyme kinetics, but I barely heard it.

My phone stayed dark—no texts from Mordred since his goodnight last night and no new alerts from the forum.

The quiet should have been a relief, but it gnawed at me. Quiet meant waiting. Quiet meant someone was watching and planning.

I was packing my bag when Maddox appeared at the door, bandaged hand tucked into his pocket, his usual entourage nowhere in sight.

He looked smaller somehow, the cocky lacrosse captain reduced to a guy with dark circles under his eyes with a hesitant step.

"Kianna," he said, voice low enough that only I could hear. The class pretended not to watch, but I felt the eyes.

"What do you want?" I asked, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

He pulled an envelope from his jacket, it was thick and embossed with the school crest. "It’s a ticket for the game tonight. Ice Hawks vs. Montecello. Two seats, front row. For you and Lesley."

I stared at it, not taking it. "Why?"

"Apology," he said simply. "To her. For... everything. The kidnapping, the fear and all the pain I’ve put her through.And to you, for dragging her into my mess." His voice cracked on the last word, eyes dropping to the floor.

I hesitated. Maddox inviting me to a game? Even when we dated, he’d never once asked me to watch. It was always "team stuff," "guys only," leaving me on the sidelines wondering why I wasn’t enough. Now this?

"I don’t know," I said

"Please." He stepped closer, eyes pleading. "I’m trying, Kianna, to be better. To fix what I broke. Just... come. Let me do this one thing right."

The sincerity hit me like a wave, it was raw and unpolished. No smirk, no hint of manipulation, just a guy who’d hit rock bottom and was clawing his way up.

Maybe he has really changed? Wow, I’m still unable to process this. The more I think of it, it just sounded so stupid but nevertheless I should atleast give him the opportunity.

And so I took the envelope. "Fine. For Lesley."

Relief washed over his face like a child whose wish had been fulfilled during Christmas. "Thank you." He whispered with a smirk.

Then he turned and walked away without another word, leaving me with the tickets burning in my hand.

Lesley’s class was in the east wing, a lecture hall packed with seniors doodling in notebooks. I slipped in during the break, weaving through the crowd to her seat in the back.

She looked up, surprised. "What’s up?"

I handed her the ticket. "Maddox has invited you to his game tonight as an apology gift.You in?"

Her eyes widened. "Front row? Hell yes." Then she paused, reading my face. "Are you okay with it?"

I shrugged. "Curious, mostly. And... it’s for you too."

She squeezed my hand. "Then let’s go. Show him we’re unbreakable."

That was unexpected, I actually imagined her rejecting it or acting unimpressed, but how cool she was with it made my heart feel light. Lesley is indeed a soft hearted girlie.

The rest of the day dragged on, classes, group work and a haze of notes I didn’t absorb.

The whispers about Maddox’s apology had evolved—some called it fake, others a miracle.

But my mind was on the game. What if it was a trap? What if anonymous showed? The white rose from last night still haunted me, it felt like some kind of a warning.

At 6:30 p.m., Lesley and I headed to the arena. The lot was packed, tailgaters blasting music, the air thick with popcorn and excitement.

We flashed the tickets at the gate, and the usher’s eyes widened. "Captain’s box? Right this way."

The box was glass-enclosed luxury—plush seats, free snacks, a perfect view of the ice.

Lesley squealed, snapping selfies. I sat, scanning the crowd for threats. But got nothing. Just fans in jerseys, parents supporting and kids waving signs.

The game started with a roar. Maddox skated out first, captain’s C on his jersey gleaming.

He played fierce—slamming checks, threading passes, scoring the opener with a wrist shot that lit the board. Lesley jumped up screaming like a die hard fan. I found myself on my feet too, the energy was infectious.

But every 5 minutes I find myself glaring around, seeing if something wrong was about to happen but nothing did.

No weird texts or shadows lurking. Just the game and excited fans. Maddox glanced up at the box after his goal, tapping his chest twice. I didn’t react, but Lesley waved wildly.

When the buzzer ended, the score was 4-2 win, the arena erupted. We filed out with the crowd, adrenaline buzzing.

Outside the tunnel, I spotted Lysander, he was standing at the entrance with his hands in pockets, watching the ice crew resurface the rink.

Our eyes met for a split second, something flickered—regret? Anger? Then he turned, melting into the excited fans like a ghost.

Lesley didn’t notice, she was just hyping her ’almost killer’ like it was just another Wednesday. "That was insane! Maddox killed it."

Before I could respond my phone buzzed. It was from a restricted number: A photo of Lesley and I seated in the box with a cheerful and joyful expression.

Under it was a text that says; "Enjoy the freedom while it lasts. You look beautiful when you let yourself forget."

The timestamp was 8:42 p.m. right after Maddox’s goal.

I froze, staring at the rafters but it was dark and empty. Someone had been up there watching us the whole time and I didn’t even notice.

Lesley tugged my arm. "Maddox texted, he’s inviting us to the after-party at his house. All the players would be there, Kianna please say yes."

I should have said no, should have called Mordred. But curiosity burned hotter than fear. What if answers waited there? Maybe I could get something if I went to the party.

"Let’s go," I said without hesitation. Then my phone buzzed again, this time around it was from Mordred. It says "What’s up tonight? Can we meet?"

I stared at it for almost 10 minutes before texting back. "Just hanging with Lesley. Rain check?"

Guilt twisted, but I silenced it. I know he’s going to be mad at me for this but as far as it will later pay off I needed to do it.

The driveway to Maddox’s house was a chaotic sprawl of luxury cars and beat-up sedans with headlights cutting through the dusk like mismatched eyes.

Music thumped from inside—deep bass that vibrated through the ground, spilling out into the cool evening air along with laughter and the sharp tang of spilled beer.

Lesley linked her arm through mine as we navigated the gravel, her eyes wide and sparkling under the string lights draped from the trees.

"This is insane," she whispered, squeezing my elbow. "Maddox Bianchi’s after-party? We’re basically celebrities now."

I forced a laugh, but my stomach twisted like it had all day. The invitation had come via text midway through the game, and I’d said yes out of some twisted curiosity.

What if there was a clue here? What if that coward Kylie will finally show her face here? Or maybe I just wanted to see if Maddox’s apology held water when the spotlight wasn’t on him.

Lesley had been all in, her first real smile since the kidnapping lighting up her face. I couldn’t say no to that.

But as we climbed the wide stone steps to the front door—flanked by pillars wrapped in twinkling lights, I regretted it.

The lie to Mordred sat heavy in my pocket, how I’d used Lesley as an excuse to walk straight into a lion’s den. He’d replied with a simple "Okay. Be safe." No questions or suspicion.

This shows how much he trusted me, and here I was, sneaking into my ex’s house like some amateur detective in a bad thriller.

The door swung open before we could knock, a wave of heat and noise crashing over us.

Some lacrosse guy I vaguely recognized, sweaty and red-faced with a plastic cup in hand grinned and waved us in.

"Kianna! Lesley! Maddox said you’d come. Drinks are in the kitchen!"

Inside was a fever dream of wealth and chaos. Maddox’s house was massive with high ceilings, marble floors, and chandeliers that probably cost more than my tuition.

I glared around as if I hadn’t been here multiple times, but all the memories from this place were a nightmare. The kind that makes your blood run cold.

But tonight it was trashed in the best way: bodies packed wall-to-wall, red Solo cups littering every surface and the music was so loud it pulsed in my chest like a second heartbeat.

People danced in the living room, spilled out onto the patio where a bonfire crackled under the stars, clustered in groups shouting over the beat.

I spotted Ciara and her squad in the corner, eyes narrowing when they saw me, but they didn’t approach. Progress, I guess.

Lesley tugged me toward the kitchen. "Come on, one drink won’t kill us."

Famous last words. When we entered the kitchen my eyes flanked wide. It was a zoo, the counters were covered in half-empty bottles, pizza boxes stacked like Jenga towers and a group of cheerleaders were mixing something neon in a punch bowl.

Maddox was there, leaning against the island, fresh from the shower in a black hoodie and jeans, his bandaged hand cradling a water bottle instead of beer.

He looked... normal. Tired, but not broken. His eyes lit up when he saw us in a genuine manner with no smirk.

"You made it," he said, pushing off the counter. "Thanks for coming."

Lesley crossed her arms, but there was no real heat in it. "Yeah, well. How can we say no? We all want to support your sudden change."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. "Fair. Look, I... I meant what I said earlier. No pressure. Just hang out, eat and do whatever."

I nodded, scanning his face for cracks. "We’re good."

He relaxed a fraction, then gestured to the spread. "Help yourselves. If anyone gives you shit, find me."

We loaded plates and found a spot on the patio stairs, away from the thick of it.

The bonfire crackled, casting flickering light over faces I half-knew from hallways and classes.

Lesley dove into her pizza like she hadn’t eaten in days, moaning dramatically. "This is therapy. Better than therapy."

I laughed, the sound surprising me. It felt good and normal. For a moment, I let myself sink into it: the warmth of the fire, the buzz of conversation and Lesley’s easy chatter about some guy she matched with on an app.

No whispers about me and no judging eyes. It was just a regular party

But still the curiosity nagged. I excused myself for the bathroom, weaving through the crowd.

Trent was in the corner, nursing a soda, avoiding everyone’s gaze like he was radioactive. But Kylie? She was nowhere to be found.

If she was here, she was probably hiding. I slipped upstairs—pretending to look for a quieter spot and peeked into rooms: guest bedrooms trashed with coats, a study with locked drawers, Maddox’s room at the end of the hall with door ajar, bed unmade and a photo of us from last year still on the nightstand.

I froze at that, this is new. Why will he have that photo on his nightstand when he couldn’t even stand the sight of me?

He treated me like a parasite and now suddenly he has changed this much?

A sound pierced the haze of my thoughts—a low, muffled moan from a room at the end of the hall.

It wasn’t the kind of moan that came from enjoyment; it was strained, reluctant, laced with something that made my skin crawl.

Curiosity pulled me forward, but instinct screamed to turn back. I inched closer, the music from downstairs fading into a distant thrum.

The door was cracked open, just enough to peek through. I pressed my eye to the slit, my heart began pounding.

Inside, a girl I recognized from the nerdy crowd ... .Jessica, the one with the thick glasses and the quiet laugh, was backed against the wall, surrounded by three guys from the lacrosse team.

Their backs were to me, broad shoulders blocking most of the view, but Jessica’s face was visibly pale with her eyes wide with discomfort whilst her lips pressed into a thin line as one of them leaned in too close, his hand on her waist.

She wasn’t enjoying it. Her body was rigid as she pushed his chest weakly, but the guys laughed like it was a game.

"Come on, Jess. Loosen up," one said, voice slurred with alcohol.

One pressed his lips against her neck which brought out a forced moan out of her.

she was trying to play along but couldn’t hide the fear underneath.My stomach churned. Memories flooded back unbidden: Maddox’s boys cornering me in the halls, their fists flying on his orders, leaving bruises I hid under long sleeves.

The way they’d laugh while I cowered, Maddox watching from the sidelines with that possessive smirk.

What if this was the same? What if Jessica was trapped in their web, too scared to say no?

I shifted for a better look, and that’s when I saw him: Luke, Maddox’s best friend, the one who’d nearly forced himself on me once before Maddox’s jealousy kicked in and pulled him off.

Luke was at the center now, his hand sliding up Jessica’s arm, his face twisted in that same predatory grin.

"You’re gonna love this," he murmured, leaning in. Bile rose in my throat.

"That asshole, how dare he." I muttered through clenched teeth. I tried to stay calm and not to interfere.

But when Jessica’s eyes darted to the door, pleading silently and hoping someone would come to her rescue, something in me snapped.

Before I could think—before fear could stop me—I barged in, the door slamming against the wall with a bang that echoed like a gunshot.

"What the fuck is going on here!"

Their heads snapped to my direction at once. The smiles on their faces were gone, replaced with something I can’t predict. Fear? Or Anger for intruding?