Fated and Claimed by Four Alphas

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~Spring's POV~

The tires screeched before their engines even reached full throttle.

Boom!

They surged forward like bolts of lightning unchained.

Tyrion's Nyx sliced through the air, hugging the inside edge of the S-bend with such precision it was like watching art in motion.

His form was low, aerodynamic, posture confident—leaning into each turn like he and the bike were one living thing.

"God," I thought, my eyes tracking him through the turns, "he's not just fast—he's lethal out there."

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the racers came out of the first loop. The pack thinned quickly, Tyrion already pulling ahead of most of them but not without resistance.

A sharp gleam caught my eye. There was someone behind him, on a red and black bike with jagged lightning decals, who veered dangerously close.

"Hey!" I gripped the railing, hoping my voice could be carried through.

The racer bumped his wheel against Tyrion's rear tire, a dirty move meant to destabilise his opponent.

"Stay the fuck away from him, you psycho!"

But Tyrion didn't flinch.

Instead, with a flick of his wrist, he slowed, just for a beat, then slipped behind the guy and whipped past on the outer lane, his tires kissing the track's edge like a dancer flirting with the fall.

The audience screamed. Even Blondie and Pink Braid Girl gasped in disbelief.

"He just countered a brake tap drift with a whip slide," someone said nearby.

"He made that up on the fly," another whispered.

I didn't need a translator to know what that meant: Tyrion was untouchable.

But just as he passed the red-biker jerk, another racer surged up behind him. This one had a midnight blue, sleek bike that moved like a liquid shadow.

His name, I heard someone say, was Zale—a returning champion from the old circuit.

And he was good.

Too good.

The two went head-to-head for the next two laps, swapping leads at every turn, blazing through tight corners like demons fighting for a crown.

The tension was unbearable. I had to stand near the railing, which was my only support, to prevent myself from jumping into the track.

"Tyrion! You got this! I love you!" I screamed at the top of my voice, making sure he heard me, but where it came from, I don't know.

I did not know what came over me, but the next second, I felt a change in his driving.

A beat of silence followed my scream.

I earned a few curious and unwelcome envious stares my way.

Then murmurs erupted all around me like wildfire.

"Did she just say she loves him?"

"That's his girl?"

"No way, that girl? She doesn't even race."

"Ugh, of course it's always the quiet ones."

Blondie's jaw visibly clenched from where she stood with her group. Her eyes, which were coated in thick mascara, snapped to me like she wanted to peel my skin off.

I felt their glares. Every ounce of jealousy and disbelief. It rolled off them like perfume made of vinegar.

But I didn't care, because in the next breath… I heard it.

"This one's for you."

Tyrion's voice. In my head.

It was undeniably his—clear, soft, confident.

I blinked for some seconds, clearly stunned.

"What… how?"

We weren't marked to each other or even mated, so how could I hear his thoughts through the bond?

Tyrion leaned into the next bend at full throttle, Nyx becoming a blur. And I knew, without a doubt, that Tyrion wasn't just racing anymore and not just winning, he was answering me.

For the first time since our bond sparked, our connection wasn't instinct—it was intentional.

He heard me.

And now… he was flying for me.

My hands were clenched so tightly the jacket sleeves had creased around my fists.

It was the final lap.

Tyrion took a shortcut that no one else dared to take, cutting diagonally across a sharp bend using nothing but timing and grip. Zale tried to mimic it and skidded.

That was it.

Tyrion exploded down the final stretch, Nyx roaring beneath him as the finish line lit up ahead.

The crowd screamed. I screamed as excitement bubbled up within me, making me jump on my feet like a young girl who won a class quiz.

Tyrion crossed the finish line first.

It was an absolute victory.

The pit erupted. Cheers echoed. Mechanics ran. Racers dismounted. Spectators flooded toward the barricades.

I jumped down from the platform and rushed toward the crowd, my eyes finding him as he pulled off his helmet, face flushed with exertion but glowing with adrenaline and joy.

"Winner: Tyrion Levi!" the speaker boomed.

A few of the girl racers stood stiffly at the back, clapping with the barest effort.

"Still think I don't belong?" I called out to them as I passed, unable to resist. Blondie didn't answer.

I reached Tyrion just as he swung off Nyx, and without hesitation, I threw my arms around him and immediately kissed him.

His arms caught me mid-spin, pulling me flush against him as our lips met in a hungry, heated, and breathless kiss.

The world blurred around us, his hand cradling my jaw, mine clutching his collar. It wasn't gentle. It was fire, like we'd waited too long and didn't care who watched.

"That was insane," I whispered into his shoulder.

"I promised you an experience," he murmured back.

"Yeah, and you delivered."

"For you, anytime, especially when you screamed 'I love you' like that, who could ever lose?"

My cheeks turned beet red in realization that my unplanned confession would yield this effect when I did not know if that was exactly how I felt.

However, before I got the chance to speak or refute him…

Vrooooom.

The crowd quieted.

Another bike pulled in and drove towards us in style and stopped.

Its engine purred like a stalking predator. The body was completely white. From the tires to the helmet and the jacket to the clean high-top sneakers.

The rider pulled up beside Tyrion and killed the engine.

He didn't say a word as he alighted and walked over to us. Then he just extended his gloved hand.

Tyrion didn't take it.

"Who are you?" Tyrion's eyes narrowed warily.

The crowd held their breath as tension returned, sharper than before.

The rider chuckled. "My bad," he said lightly, then reached up and removed the helmet.

A mass of blonde hair fell out, styled back effortlessly. His face emerged beneath the harsh lighting, and for a second, he looked oddly familiar.

My heart skipped, and my lips parted.

"...Neil?"

He grinned at me and then winked.