Claimed By The Alpha, Marked By The Biker-Chapter 49: The Comeback

Maddox’s PoV:

I woke up to my phone buzzing like a goddamn hornet’s nest, notifications piling up faster than I could swipe them away.

Groggy from last night’s hangover—yeah, I’d partied a bit too hard at that shithole apartment with the guys.

I grabbed the phone off the nightstand, expecting the usual crap: likes on my latest gym selfie, flirty DMs from underclassmen, maybe a text from Kianna saying good morning.

But no, the screen was flooded with tags, mentions, and shares from the school forum app.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, sitting up in bed, the sheets tangling around my legs.

I opened the app, and there it was: a post from some anonymous profile called ’ShadowExpose’.

And under it were videos of me at the Millwood Apartments last night, hanging with my crew—Jake, Tyler and the usual suspects. We were messing around with that nerdy chick, Emily, the one who’s always got her nose in a book.

She looked rough, yeah—sick from whatever flu was going around, or maybe just lightweight on the beers we pushed her to chug.

But it was harmless fun, right? Laughing, recording her stumbling a bit, her forced giggles turning into miserable whimpers.

But somehow this managed to get posted by some rat. And the caption hit like a gut punch, beating me to my own games?

What the actual hell? My blood ran cold, then boiled over in seconds. "No, no, no," I growled, replaying the videos. How the hell did someone get this? We were alone in that apartment—Tyler’s uncle’s place, no one else around.

Was someone hiding? Spying? The address was even tagged, for Christ’s sake. Views were already in the hundreds, comments exploding:

"Maddox is a fake,"

"Bully much?"

"Knew he was trash."

I scrolled frantically, my heart slamming against my ribs. This wasn’t just some rumor; this was evidence, twisted to make me look like the villain.

And Kianna—oh God, Kianna. She’d see this. All the effort I’d put in these past weeks, playing the perfect ex and acting like the reformed bad boy will be shattered into pieces.

She’ll think I was back to my old ways, that I hadn’t changed.

"Fuck!" I yelled, hurling my phone across the room. It bounced off the wall, screen cracking but still buzzing.

I paced my bedroom, the plush carpet muffling my stomps. My room was a shrine to my ego—trophies from football games lining the shelves, posters of NFL stars on the walls, a king-sized bed that screamed privilege.

But right now, it felt like a cage. Who was behind this? Mordred? That creepy loser had been warning Kianna about me and even trying to start a fight every time he saw me around her.

But how would he get videos from last night? He wasn’t there. Or was he? Paranoia crept in, mixing with the fury. I needed answers, really fast.

Grabbing my cracked phone, I scrolled through contacts until I found "Boss"—no name, just that. That psycho can trace this person within seconds, but I hesitated.

Not because I was scared but because memories of the last time kicked in, how strange he was when he jumped Jayden, got pictures of my dad’s affair and everything.

Could it even possibly be, he just switched sides and now the one helping Mordred? No, no that’s not possible...he hates Mordred just like I do. He’s on my side, think straight Maddox.

I exhaled sharply, then without further hesitation I hit on the call button with shaky fingers.

He picked up on the second ring, his voice gravelly and calm, in auto tune like always. " Maddox, I knew you’d call."

"You see this shit?" I spat, not bothering with pleasantries. "Some anonymous account posted videos of me last night about some bullying crap. It’s going viral at school. I need to know who’s behind it and how they got the footage. Trace the IP or hack the forum, whatever it takes do it and tell me please."

A pause, then a low chuckle that made my skin crawl came through.

"Calm down, dude. I’ve seen it. And really impressed..." He laughed cruelly in the audio, then continued. "

"Lay low like I told you and don’t react to it publicly, that’ll just fan the flames. I’ll let my guys look into it and will message once we find the source.."

"But how? Those videos—someone had to be there, or hack my phone. And Kianna... she’s gonna flip. All my work..."

"Wait and see," he cut me off. "Focus on damage control. Delete any evidence on your end, act surprised if anyone asks. I’ll handle the rest. I’ll call you later."

Then the line went dead. I stared at the phone, frustration bubbling. Lay low? Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one whose rep was tanking.

I flopped back on the bed, rubbing my temples. The headache from last night was nothing compared to this. Images of Kianna’s face flashed—her smile when I complimented her, the way she leaned into me.

Would she believe this? Or would she give me a chance to explain? I texted her quickly: "Hey, saw some weird post on the forum, it’s totally BS, we need to talk." But there was no response...shit!

Just then, my phone rang again. This time around it was from my Dad. My stomach dropped. What does he want? He never calls me at this hour.

"Yeah?" I answered, trying to sound casual.

"Get your ass home. Now!" His voice was steel, leaving no room for argument.

"Dad, I have school, I need to..."

"I said come home now!.." he cut my lies off. "...or I’ll come and find you myself and it’ll get messy."

Fear twisted in my gut. "Shittttt!!" I yelled on top of my voice, as I ran my hands through my hair.

I feel like going crazy right now. Has he seen the bullying videos? Because everything was going well from that night on, the boss helped me to get on his good side.

"Damnit, damnit...what should I even do now?"

He’s going to kill me the moment I get home. I remember the last time he nearly killed me for the warehouse mess and now this? Videos of his son bullying a girl? That could splash back on him, especially with elections coming up.

I grabbed my keys, skipping the rest of the day. The drive home was a blur, my mind was on loop and my body was shivering with the last hope of not being what I think it is.

But how did he find out so fast? From School admins? Or a tip-off?

As I navigated the winding roads to our upscale neighborhood: mansions with manicured lawns, the kind of place where scandals were buried deep, I remembered something, the photos Boss had sent me the last time as an apology for what happened at Jayden’s place.

Oh right, he said I would need it to defend myself one day. But now? With Dad’s fury brewing? Maybe today is the day.

Pulling into the driveway, the grand colonial house loomed like a judgment. Dad’s Mercedes was already there, parked crooked like he’d rushed home.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and walked in. The foyer echoed my footsteps on the marble floor, the air thick with tension.

He was in the living room, pacing by the fireplace, his suit rumpled with his face red.

"You," he snarled as I entered, not waiting for me to speak. His fist connected before I could react—a solid punch to my face.

I staggered back, crashing into the coffee table, pain exploding across my nose. Warm blood trickled down, staining my shirt.

"You useless piece of shit! After everything I’ve done for you—covering your asses, pulling strings and you pull this? Bullying some poor girl on video? It’s all over the goddamn internet!"

I clutched my face, tears stinging my eyes from the pain, but anger surged too. "Dad, it’s not.."

"What it looked like?.." he cut me off, just to punch me again in the face. " Get a better excuse, because disappointment is an understatement to what I’m feeling right now you son of a bitch!"

He loomed over me, veins bulging in his neck. "You’re a liability, Maddox. Always have been. How many times have I told you to use your head? Huh?"

I coughed out the blood in my mouth, then tried to speak... " Dad please let me explain, it’s a BS.You know I’m trying to..."

"To tarnish my name?..." He chipped in, voice low but edgy.

"...just shut the fuck up. Without my donations to the school, you’d be nothing but a boy who hasn’t achieved anything. And now this? Tarnishing the family name? If this hits the papers, my campaign’s are fucked and You’re fucked as well because I’m tired of being affectionate to an ungrateful bastard like you."

Something snapped in me after he said that. For years, I’d taken it—the verbal jabs, the occasional slap, the constant pressure to be perfect.

"Affection? Ha, like you’ve ever given me any!" I shouted back, pushing myself up, blood dripping onto the Persian rug.

Tears streamed now, hot and unbidden, mixing with the blood.

"All I ever wanted was for you to notice me, to be proud! But no, it’s always ’useless,’ and ’disappointment.’ I’m your son, not some political prop!"

He raised his hand again, but I stood my ground, voice cracking. "Touch me one more time, and I swear, I’ll post it all. Your affair with that secretary—yeah, I know about it. I have photos, dates and the whole thing. Mayor’s scandal with his side piece? How cute would that sound to the voters? We go down together, Dad. You ruin me, I ruin you."

His face went pale, and the rage flickered to fear for the first time I could remember. He stepped back, hand dropping immediately.

"What? How did you—where did you get that?" He stammered.

I didn’t answer, just wiped my nose with my sleeve, tasting my blood in my mouth. And Limped past him as he kept shouting at me to answer him.

My knee must’ve twisted in the fall, it hurt with each step I made towards my room upstairs.

I collapsed on the bed the moment the door clicked shut behind me in my room.

Staring at the ceiling, all the emotions warring inside spilled out: the pain from the punch and the satisfaction from seeing him scared, but mostly dread, made me smile a bit.

Who would’ve imagined the infamous Mayor Bianchi will look this hopeless in the face of the boy he always belittled.

He must be very annoyed by now. Good, because he’ll know what I’m going through right now.

But most importantly I can’t wait to know who the fuck this anonymous is. Just when things were good, they decided to destroy everything again.

Pray it’s not you Mordred Sinclair, pray hard I don’t find out. I buried my face in the pillow, letting the world close in.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into a haze. I iced my nose in the en-suite bathroom, the mirror showing a swollen mess—purple bruising already forming on my lips and under my eye. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

It’d be hell explaining this at school tomorrow. "Fell during practice," maybe. But the real bruise was deeper. Dad’s words echoed: useless, liability and a disappointment.

I’d always craved his approval, pushed myself in sports, grades, everything to earn it. But it was never enough.

He got what he wanted, I never wanted to use that affair photos against him but he crossed that line and I’m fed up.

As evening fell, the house felt silent..almost like a cemetery. Dad is probably holed up in his study, plotting damage control—I checked the forum again.

The post had exploded: thousands of views, shares beyond school. Comments ranged from "Maddox deserves it" to "Fake news?" A few defended me, loyal friends, but the tide was against.

Emily had even commented: "This is me. It happened, he’s not who you think."

Bitch, I remember her laughing through it all like a hyena Or didn’t she? We were just joking around and maybe I had gone too far. But hey, nobody forced her ass to the party.

Rage surged in harder and before I could explode wondering what to do with those bitches in the comments criticizing me, my phone pinged again.

It was from Boss: " Maddox, we still haven’t found the source but I have an idea, stay close to your phone. It’s about to be fun."

Idea? What idea? Hopefully he’s not going to suggest I do something embarrassing like apologizing again. I’m done doing those shits.

I scrolled through my contacts and hovered my fingers around Kiana’s number. I drafted a dozen messages: "It’s not what it looks like," "Let me explain," but deleted them all.

What could I say? The videos spoke for themselves. All my efforts—the good boy act, ditching the old habits and focusing on her just shattered in one post.

Had I lost her for good? The thought hollowed me out, worse than the throbbing nose.

Night deepened, the mansion creaking in the wind but I laid awake, battling the storm inside: fury at the anonymous, fear of Dad’s next move and ache of losing Kianna again.

Whoever that anonymous is, he or she should hold on tight because the ride is about to get longer than it seemed.