Claimed By The Alpha, Marked By The Biker-Chapter 56: The Psycho Games

Maddox’s POV:

I bolted upright in bed, the sheets tangling around my legs like they were trying to hold me down.

The room was pitch black except for the faint glow of my phone on the nightstand, buzzing insistently.

I glanced at the clock, it was exactly 2:47am. Who the hell calls at this hour? My heart raced with a mix of annoyance and that low-grade paranoia that had been my constant companion since the videos dropped.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, as its cracked screen felt cool against my palm. It was a call from an unknown number, but I knew who it was. The Boss. That gravelly auto-tune voice had become a nightmare soundtrack.

I swiped to answer, pressing it to my ear. "What?" I snapped, my voice thick with sleep.

"Maddox," the distorted voice drawled, calm as ever, like he was calling to chat about the weather. "Hope I didn’t wake you. But this couldn’t wait till morning."

I rubbed my eyes, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The hardwood floor was cold under my feet, grounding me a bit. "It better be good. I’ve got school tomorrow, practice and the usual shit."

A low chuckle filtered through, mechanical and chilling. "Oh, it’s good. Or bad, depending on your perspective. Mordred knows about the bond and the wolf thing. Your little fated-mate secret with Kianna."

My blood ran cold. I froze, staring at my reflection in the dark window across the room—bruises fading to yellow, eyes wide. "What the fuck are you talking about? I never told you about that."

Silence stretched, then another laugh. "You didn’t have to. I know everything, kid. That’s why you came to me in the first place, remember? For the dirt, the leverage. But why didn’t you mention it? Thought you could handle the supernatural side solo?" 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

Confusion swirled in my head, mixing with a rising anger. The bond—that was pack business, family secrets passed down from Dad and Uncle Silas. I’d kept it locked tight, not even hinting at it to my crew or anyone outside the bloodline.

How the hell did this shadowy fixer know? "How do you know about the bond? And how do you know Mordred found out? Did you tell him? Are you playing both sides?"

The voice sharpened, losing a bit of its amusement. "Don’t accuse me of shit you don’t understand. I didn’t tell him..you know I’m on your side.But I have eyes everywhere and ears too. Whispers in the dark, digital trails and people who owe me."

A pause, then continued.

"Mordred’s been digging and talking to the wrong people. Or right ones, from his view. He knows the deadline and he’s planning to stop it."

I stood up, pacing the room now, my bare feet silent on the rug. The mansion was quiet—Dad probably asleep in his wing, Step mom in hers, the help long gone.

"This is bullshit,the bond’s mine to handle. In ten days, Kianna will be mine. Mordred’s just a human who can’t do anything about it." I responded, making sure I didn’t sound desperate.

"Arrogant as ever," the Boss said. "But while we’re on revelations—I just confirmed something else. That anonymous post? The one that exposed you bullying that girl? Mordred’s handiwork. He set up the profile and uploaded those videos."

That hit like a sucker punch. I stopped pacing, gripping the phone so hard my knuckles whitened. Mordred....that creepy bastard. I’d suspected, yeah—his warnings to Kianna, the hate in his eyes. But proof? "How do you know? You traced it?"

"Finally," he replied. "Took some digging—VPNs and proxies, but yeah. My guys cracked it. He’s the source...thought you’d want to know before he escalates."

Rage boiled up, hot and familiar. I could picture it: Mordred hunched over his laptop in some dingy apartment, smirking as he hit the post. Ruining my rep, turning Kianna and the world against me. "That fucker. I’ll end him."

"Easy, tiger," the Boss said. "Don’t do anything rash. Lay low, like I said. I’ll help you with the girl, so you can get her during the full moon on her birthday. Make sure the bond sticks, no interference. I’ve got resources for that kind of thing. Suppressants for rivals and distractions. You focus on charming her back; I’ll handle the shadows."

I laughed, short but bitterly. He thinks he can involve himself in this too? Obviously not, I’m not letting that happen.

"Help? I don’t need your help anymore.. I’m done, and ready to handle my own issues...so please stay out of it." I told him.

There was a long pause at his end, followed by a cold demonic laughter that echoed through the auto-tune.

"Ignorant boy...." He muttered, "You think you can cut me out? Fine. Sweet dreams."

Then the line went dead. I tossed the phone on the bed, adrenaline pumping. That was creepy but who did he think he was? Some underground kingpin pulling my strings? Nah. I was Maddox Bianchi—future alpha, with fate on my side.

The bond was unbreakable; Silas had drilled that in. Kianna would feel it and come to me. No need for shady help from a voice in the dark.

I’d do this my way: give her the moonstone tomorrow, slip the tincture if needed, be there at moonrise. Done..

I flopped back into bed, staring at the ceiling, a smug smile creeping across my face. "Ten days..." I breathed out. In ten days everything will fall into place.

Sleep came eventually, fitful and dreamless. With a relaxing sensation that I’ve craved for in these few months but got none.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming the room. I woke up groggy but energized, as the call from last night felt like a distant echo.

Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like coffee and bacon—Mom’s doing, probably trying to play happy family after Dad’s latest blowout.

She was at the island, scrolling her phone, dressed in her yoga gear.

"Morning, sweetie," she said, not looking up. "Breakfast’s ready. Your dad’s already out and busy with campaign stuff."

I grunted, grabbing a plate and loading it with eggs, toast and bacon. "Cool." We didn’t talk much these days; she knew about the videos but pretended not to, like ignoring it would make it vanish.

I sat at the counter, shoveling food in, half-listening to her chatter about holiday plans. Christmas was coming and decorations were already up in the foyer, trees sparkling.

But my mind was on Kianna. I’d text her again today, maybe show up at her dorm with the pendant and apologize to see if it will work.

To kill time, I flipped on the TV mounted on the wall—local news channel, the morning anchors droning about weather and traffic.

I tuned it out until a breaking news banner flashed: "Gruesome Double Homicide Shocks Community."

The fork paused halfway to my mouth.

"Two local teens found dead in Millwood Park early this morning," the anchor said, her voice grave.

"Authorities are investigating what appears to be a brutal attack. The victims have been identified as Gerald Ramirez and Gabby Thompson, both 18, students at Monticello High."

My plate clattered to the counter. Gerald and Gabby. My friends and teammates we’d played hockey yesterday after school, laughing on the ice and even trash-talking.

Then we ate lunch in the cafeteria, planning a party for break. They were totally fine and alive.

The screen cut to footage: police tape around the park, forensics teams in white suits, a reporter on-site.

"Sources say the bodies were mutilated beyond recognition—limbs torn, wounds that suggest animal attack, but experts are baffled. No witnesses, no suspects yet. A tragic loss for the community."

Mutilated? Inhuman.My stomach churned, bile rising. I pushed the plate away, hands shaking. Mom gasped behind me. "Oh God, Maddox—weren’t those your friends?"

"Yeah," I whispered, staring at the screen. Gerald’s laugh echoed in my head—loud and infectious, followed by Gabby’s smirk when he scored yesterday at the arena with me. And now... torn apart?

Is this some kind of a nightmare? How could this be possible? Everything was literally good yesterday.

Just before I could flood myself in endless piles of thoughts, my phone buzzed on the counter. It was a text from an unknown number—Boss.

It says; "If you ever dare tell me you don’t need my help anymore... not only will your friends pay, but people you cherish the most."

The world tilted. I read it again and again till the words began blurring. The Boss, that psycho had... what? Killed them? Mutilated them to send a message? Because I’d brushed him off yesterday?

God damnit that Scrumbag! That bastard, who does he think he is to control my life by taking others down?

Goshhh, in seconds I felt like going insane. Mom was talking, asking if I was okay, but her voice felt distant and muffled.

I stood up, chair scraping, and bolted to the bathroom off the kitchen. I barely made it to the sink before retching, the breakfast coming up in waves.

Tears stung my eyes—not just from the heaving, but from the horror sinking in. Gerald and Gabby are dead because of me. Because I’d gotten cocky with the wrong person.

I splashed water on my face, gripping the edges of the sink whilst staring at my reflection; My eyes were red-rimmed and my face looked pale.

The Boss wasn’t just a fixer, he’s a monster, a ruthless, barbaric one who knows things he shouldn’t.

I knew he was crazy and a psycho but to this extent? Never...I never imagined.

What had I gotten into? I’d thought he was a tool, someone to use and discard. But he had me on a leash now. One tug, and more people died. Kianna? Dad? Or my family?

I slid to the floor, back against the cabinet, head in my hands. Ignorant. That’s what he’d called me, and he was right.

I’d forgotten the kind of person I was dealing with for a second and that cost me my friends.

No more doing it my way. I needed him, although I hate him now. For Kianna, for the bond and for our survival I needed to do what will please him alone.

My phone buzzed again in my pocket. I pulled it out, dreading another text. But it was just a reminder: school in an hour.

I stood, shaky, wiping my face. The news still droned in the kitchen—reporters speculating on wild animals and gangs. But I knew the truth.

The Boss had made his point. And I will never forget it.

The day blurred from there. School was hell—whispers about Gerald and Gabby everywhere, counselors offering "support," the team huddled in shock.

I played the grieving friend, but inside, terror gnawed. I texted the Boss: "Fine. I need your help. What now?"

No response yet. But I know he’ll soon call just so the game will go his way.

And in nine days—wait, ten? No, the call was last night; Kiana’s birthday is still ten days away. But now, with blood on the line, nothing felt certain.

And I’m ready to risk it all, just to get Kianna. Not even that Monster can stop me.