Isla's POV
"You think saving me tonight makes you, my saviour?" I spat across the fire, my voice trembling but sharp.
The flames snapped between us, painting his tattoos in flickering gold. Kyree Blackthorn didn't flinch. He just leaned back in his chair, boots stretched out, cigarette smoke curling lazily around his face as if the blood and chaos of last night were nothing.
Around us, the Brotherhood celebrated. Bottles clinked, women laughed too loudly, and men shouted about their kills. The smell of sweat, leather, whiskey, and smoke hung heavy, pressing into my lungs until I felt like I was drowning.
I wasn't celebrating. I was trapped.
The fire had burned low by dawn, leaving glowing embers and ash scattered across the ground. The bodies of Drake's men had been dragged away, but the dirt was still blackened with blood. I sat with my knees pulled tight to my chest, a blanket someone had thrown at me wrapped around my shoulders. It didn't stop the cold. It didn't stop the ache in my ribs or the burn of humiliation that never seemed to fade.
A few bikers stared at me from across the fire. Their eyes carried nothing but contempt, suspicion and hunger. I knew what they saw when they looked at me: a weak little Omega, a cursed thing who didn't belong in their world.
One of them, a broad man with scars cutting across his jaw, finally stood. His name was Cutter; I'd heard the whispers last night. He was Kyree's second. His loyalty was supposed to be iron.
He stepped into the firelight, sneering down at me. "You bring her here, and you think we won't notice?" His voice was a growl, meant for Kyree but aimed like a blade at me. "The cursed Omega. The one tied to too many bonds. You'll get us all killed."
The other bikers muttered in agreement, spitting into the dirt, eyes flashing toward me.
Kyree didn't move. He just exhaled smoke, slow and dangerous.
Cutter's lip curled. "She doesn't belong here. She's not Iron Fang. She's not one of us. She's baggage and baggage gets dropped." He spat at my feet. "We should trade her to Drake and get territory and blood off our backs instead of inviting war."
The camp rumbled with mutiny. Men nodded; others shouted. "Trade her!" "Dead weight!" "She'll doom us all!"
My stomach twisted. I gripped the blanket tighter, heat prickling behind my eyes.
Kyree's chair scraped back suddenly. The sound cut through the noise like a blade.
Before Cutter could react, Kyree had him pinned against the nearest bike, one tattooed forearm crushing his throat. Cutter gagged, his hands clawing at Kyree's arm, but Kyree didn't let up. His other hand slammed against the bike's steel, denting the metal.
"You question me?" Kyree's voice was low, deadly calm. His storm-grey eyes burned. "You forget who leads this pack?"
Cutter wheezed, shaking his head, eyes wide with panic.
Kyree's grip tightened. "Say it."
"You..." Cutter gasped, choking. "You lead."
Kyree shoved harder, his jaw clenched. "Say it louder."
"You lead!" Cutter rasped, voice cracking.
Kyree finally released him, letting him collapse to the dirt, coughing and gagging. He turned to the others, his voice a growl that vibrated in my bones.
"Any of you think you can question me again, step up. Otherwise shut your fucking mouths before I tear your throats out."
Silence fell and no one moved.
Kyree lit another cigarette with steady hands, as if choking his second-in-command half to death hadn't rattled him in the slightest. He sat back down, smoke curling from his lips, eyes fixed on me and that was the moment I realized. He hadn't done it to protect me. He'd done it to prove a point: no one questions Kyree Blackthorn and lives.
My heart hammered. My stomach twisted with rage.
When the whispers started again, soft this time and wary, I couldn't take it anymore.
I stood up. My knees shook, but I forced them to lock. My voice cracked, but I made it loud enough for every man around the fire to hear.
"You think I'm cursed?" I snapped. "Fine. Maybe I am. Maybe the Goddess did make me broken, but if you think giving me to Drake will save you, you're even stupider than I thought."
The camp stilled and all eyes turned to me.
Cutter staggered to his feet, fury flashing in his eyes. "Watch your mouth, Omega..."
"No." My voice shook, but I didn't back down. "You want to spit on me? Go ahead. You want to call me weak? Do it. But you know what I've survived? My own blood wanting me dead, my pack making me their slave and my mate rejecting me in front of everyone." My throat burned, but I didn't stop. "So don't talk to me about curses. Don't talk to me about weakness, because I'm still standing and you're the one who just got choked out like a dog in front of your pack."
Gasps rippled through the bikers. Cutter's face twisted with rage, but he didn't lunge at me. Not with Kyree watching.
I swallowed hard, my hands shaking as I pulled the blanket tighter around me. For one moment, just one, I saw it in their eyes: respect and warped, grudging, but there.
Kyree's lips twitched around his cigarette, not a smile, but something darker.
Later, when the fire had burned low and the Brotherhood staggered off to sleep, I felt his presence before I saw him. The leather, the smoke and the weight of him pressing down like a storm.
He stepped into the tent, ducking low, his shadow filling the small space.
"You've got a mouth on you," he said, voice rough.
"I'm not yours," I hissed, clutching the blanket. "You're no different from Drake. You both want me chained."
His jaw tightened. "You don't know my world, little wolf. In my world, you're claimed or you're eaten."
"I'd rather be eaten than owned."
The bond flared hot, choking me, dragging us closer. His storm-grey eyes darkened and I felt Ava howl inside me.
"Trust him," my wolf whispered. "He's fire, but fire protects as much as it burns."
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. No... No, I couldn't trust him.
He leaned closer, his hand slamming against the wall of the tent beside my head, his breath hot against my cheek. "Run again and I'll drag you back myself. But don't mistake me for Drake."
"Why?" My voice cracked. "What makes you any different?"
His eyes burned. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. My breath caught.
A jagged scar slashed across his chest, old but brutal, carved deep into his flesh.
"You think you're the only one used as a weapon?" His voice was low and dangerous. "You think you're the only one the world tried to chain? You don't know a fucking thing about me."
I stared at the scar, trembling. My anger twisted into something colder and sharper. For the first time, I saw him not just as a monster, but as someone who'd been broken too.
Before I could answer, he stormed out, leaving the smell of smoke and blood behind.
Kyree's POV
The night was silent except for the crackle of fire and the occasional cough of an engine cooling in the dark. I sat on the edge of my bike, bottle in hand, watching the flames lick at the sky.
Darius snarled inside me, restless, furious. She's ours... Ours... Protect her, claim her and keep her safe.
"Shut up," I muttered, dragging the bottle across my lips. The whiskey burned down my throat, but it didn't drown the truth. I was losing control, not just of my wolf, but of the Brotherhood itself.
Half of them whispered betrayal. Half followed me blindly. Cutter would come for me again and someone had already slipped away during the chaos last night. I could feel it. Word would reach Drake. It was only a matter of time.
I gripped the bottle tighter until it shattered in my hand. Blood dripped down my fingers, but I didn't care.
My gaze flicked to her tent, to the fragile shadow curled inside. She was fire wrapped in glass, and I couldn't stop reaching for her, even knowing she'd cut me to pieces.
Darius howled. If she dies, we die.
I clenched my jaw, whispering to the night. "Why do I want the one thing guaranteed to destroy me?"
Isla's POV
The fire crackled outside, its light casting shadows against the canvas walls. I hugged my knees to my chest; Ava's presence coiled inside me like a restless storm.
"They'll never see me as anything but a curse," I whispered.
Ava growled softly. Then prove them wrong. Teeth, Isla. You have teeth.
My throat tightened. "How do I survive men who see me as a curse, a chain, or a weapon?"
No answer came. Just the sound of Kyree's boots pacing outside and his smoke curling into the tent. His shadow lingered like a chain I couldn't shake and in the silence, I wondered if chains made of fire burned worse than iron.
When loyalty fractures and betrayal brews, will I be Kyree's salvation or the fire that burns his world down?