The Biker Alpha Who Became My Second Chance Mate Chapter 13

Athena's POV

For the first time in months, I sleep without nightmares.

Tristan holds me through the night, just like he used to when we were younger. Back when he was still just Orion's best friend, the older boy who treated me like the little sister he never had.

Back when everything was simple and safe, before my world turned upside down twice over – first when our parents died, then when I made the mistake of thinking he could love me the way I loved him.

That night five years ago still haunts me sometimes, but I've learned to lock those feelings away where they can't hurt me again.

Now, lying here in his arms again, I can feel those dangerous feelings trying to resurface. But I force the emotions down, lock them away where they can't hurt me again.

He's made his position clear. He sees me as a sister, as family, nothing more. And I need to accept that, need to be grateful for the familial love he's offering instead of yearning for something that will never be mine.

His arms around me feel like a fortress against all the demons that usually come crawling out of the darkness when I close my eyes.

His steady heartbeat against my back is a lullaby that drowns out Dixon's voice, his breathing a rhythm that keeps the panic at bay.

When I wake up, sunlight is streaming through my bedroom window, and for a moment, I'm disoriented. I haven't slept past sunrise in... I can't even remember how long.

My internal clock has been permanently set to fear for so many months that peaceful sleep feels foreign, almost wrong.

But then I remember why I slept so well. Tristan is still holding me, his face inches from mine, and his dark eyes are already open, watching me with an expression I can't quite read.

There's concern there, yes, but also something else. Something that looks like determination mixed with barely contained rage.

He doesn't say good morning. He doesn't ask how I slept. He just reaches over to the nightstand and picks up a glass of water and two small white pills.

"Pain relief," he says simply, offering them to me. "For your head."

I do have a headache, though I hadn't realized it until he mentioned it. The aftermath of last night's breakdown, probably.

I take the pills gratefully, washing them down with the cool water. When I hand the glass back to him, he sets it on the nightstand with deliberate precision before moving to sit at the other end of the bed, facing me.

The sudden distance feels intentional and strategic. Like he's creating a safe space for whatever conversation is coming next.

My stomach clenches with dread because I know what he wants to hear. I can see it in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, in the way he's positioned himself like someone preparing for battle.

When I don't say anything, just stare down at my hands folded in my lap, he raises one dark eyebrow. The gesture is so familiar, so achingly reminiscent of the boy I grew up with, that it makes my chest tight.

"You know this is the time you start spilling everything, right?"

His voice is gentle but firm. There's no accusation in it, no anger directed at me, but there's an underlying steel that tells me he's not going to let this go. Not this time.

I feel the familiar panic rising in my throat. "Tristan, please don't....."

"Don't what? Don't care about you? Don't worry when my sister has nightmares about someone named Dixon who apparently hurt her so badly she's still begging for mercy in her sleep?" His voice cracks slightly on the last words, and I can see how much my pain is affecting him.

The word 'sister' hits me like a physical blow, and not just because of the weight of responsibility it carries. It's that same word he'd used five years ago, the same dismissal that had shattered my heart into a million pieces.

"Please don't tell Orion," I whisper, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Please, Tris. I can't... he can't know. Not yet. Maybe not ever."

Tristan is quiet for a long moment, studying my face with those perceptive eyes that have always seen too much. Finally, he sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair.

"I can't promise you that, Ath. Orion loves you. He has a right to know when someone has hurt his sister."

Yes, he does. Because I'm his sister. I am their sister, in every way that matters to them, even if I and Tristan don't share blood.

Even if my wolf still whimpers every time I hear him say it, still yearns for a bond that will never exist.

But that makes this so much worse, doesn't it? They trusted me to stay safe, to take care of myself, and I failed so spectacularly. I let my own mate destroy me, and then I compounded that failure by rejecting the mate bond entirely.

"If you don't tell him, then I won't either," I say desperately. "We can just... we can pretend this never happened. I'll get better on my own, I promise. I just need time."

"No." His voice is firm, final. "I won't tell him until you're ready, but you will tell him when he gets back from his trip. If you don't, then I will. He deserves to know, Athena. He cares about you more than you realize, and he's going to want to help you through this."

I want to argue, want to fight him on this, but I can see in his face that his mind is made up. And maybe, buried deep beneath all the shame and fear, there's a tiny part of me that wants Orion to know. That wants to stop carrying this burden alone.

"Okay," I whisper, my voice so quiet I'm not sure he heard me. "When he gets back."

Tristan nods, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Now talk to me. Tell me what happened. Tell me about Dixon."

Just hearing the name makes my skin crawl, makes my stomach churn with a mixture of fear and nausea. But Tristan is waiting, patient and steady, and I know I owe him the truth.

After everything he's done for me, after the way he held me through my breakdown last night, he deserves to understand what he's dealing with.

I take a shaky breath and close my eyes, trying to find the strength to go back to the beginning. To that moment when I discovered who I wanted my mate to be, who I chose and everything started falling apart.

"I met him at a supermarket," I start, my voice barely above a whisper. "It was about three years ago. I was shopping for groceries after work, and I couldn't reach something on the top shelf. He helped me get it down."

The memory feels surreal now, tainted by everything that came after.

But at the time, it had seemed so sweet, so romantic. A handsome stranger helping a damsel in distress, like something out of a fairy tale.

"He was... charming. Funny. He made me laugh, which I hadn't done much of since leaving here. When he asked for my number, I almost said no. I wasn't really ready to date anyone. I was still trying to figure out who I was on my own, you know?"

Tristan nods, encouraging me to continue without interrupting. His face is carefully neutral, but I can see his hands clenched into fists where they rest on his knees.

"But he was persistent. In a good way, I thought. He would send me flowers at work, little notes telling me I was beautiful. He'd show up at my favorite coffee shop with my usual order already prepared. It felt romantic, like he was really paying attention to me, really seeing me."

I have to stop for a moment, the irony of those words hitting me like a slap. He had been paying attention, all right. He'd been cataloging my routines, learning my weaknesses, figuring out exactly how to trap me.

"He chased me for months," I continue, my voice getting steadier as I fall into the rhythm of the story. "I kept saying no to dates, but he never gave up. He'd find excuses to bump into me places, the grocery store, the gym, even at the library. It should have been a red flag, but I thought it was fate."

"Finally, I said yes. One date, I told him. Just to see if there was really something there or if it was just my imagination."

Maybe I'd been so desperate to feel wanted by someone, anyone, after Tristan's rejection that I'd ignored every red flag. Maybe I'd been so broken from losing the love I thought I'd found in my brother's best friend that I'd clung to the first person who showed me attention.