The morning sun filtered through the cracks of the garage door, casting long, golden streaks of light onto the battered concrete floor. Alejandra lay against the far wall, her body slumped in exhaustion, her breath shallow. Her ripped clothes barely clung to her form, a testament to the ferocity of the battle the night before. Every inch of her felt sore, her limbs refusing to cooperate as she stirred awake.
The sound of heavy boots on the floor echoed through the space. Steven Henderson stood in the doorway, his face shadowed but his eyes glowing faintly with the ember-like hue of the Rider within him. He stepped inside, his gaze cold and indifferent as it fell on Alejandra.
"You're still here?" His voice was low and rough, carrying a tinge of irritation.
Alejandra struggled to sit up, her hand clutching at her torn jacket to cover herself. "Where else could I go after what you did?" she snapped back, though her tone lacked venom.
Steven crossed his arms, leaning against his workbench, his expression unyielding. "Why did you try to kill me? What were you hoping to achieve, Alejandra?"
Alejandra hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she sighed heavily. "Because you're a threat, Steven. The Devil's Will foretold it—a Rider who would break the rules of Hell, one who would turn the power against its creator. That's you, Steven. And if you go unchecked, you'll destroy everything, including yourself."
Steven's jaw tightened, his patience thinning. "So you thought you'd take me out? Save the world by stabbing me in my own garage?" He stepped closer, his presence looming over her like a storm cloud. "Let me make something clear—you don't get to decide my fate. Try it again, and I'll make sure you pay the price."
Alejandra's eyes locked onto his, defiant but weary. "You're already losing yourself, Steven. You can feel it, can't you? That hunger, that greed... It's consuming you."
Steven let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "I'm in control. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. Now, if you're done preaching, get out of my sight."
He grabbed a clean shirt and a pair of jeans from a nearby cabinet, tossing them onto the floor in front of her. "Put these on before someone sees you like that."
Alejandra hesitated, eyeing the clothes, then glanced back at Steven. "Turn around," she said sharply.
Steven smirked, his gaze unflinching. "Why? You tried to kill me. Modesty doesn't really fit into this equation, does it? It all started from you, now you understand how it feels when someone is enjoying their shame!"
Her cheeks flushed with anger, but she had no choice. Slowly, she began to undress, peeling away the remnants of her ruined clothing. Steven's eyes lingered on her for a moment too long, a dangerous glint in them that hadn't been there before.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she muttered, pulling the shirt over her head.
Steven's smirk widened, but there was something darker beneath it—an edge of recklessness that hadn't existed before. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just realizing that I don't need to hold back anymore."
Alejandra narrowed her eyes. "That's your problem, Steven. You think power makes you invincible. But you're wrong. It's making you reckless. And one day, it's going to cost you everything."
Steven's expression hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Then let it. But for now, I'm the one in charge."
He stepped back, grabbing his leather jacket and slinging it over his shoulder. "Get yourself together, Alejandra. I've got bigger problems to deal with than you."
As he walked out, Alejandra watched him go, a mix of frustration and fear etched across her face. Steven Henderson was no longer just a man burdened by the curse of the Rider—he was becoming something far more dangerous.
And she wasn't sure if she could stop him.
***
Jim pulled into Steven's driveway, the sound of his car engine cutting through the morning stillness. He stepped out cautiously, his boots crunching on the gravel. When he pushed the door open, his eyes widened at the sight before him.
Alejandra was sitting on Steven's couch, her posture deliberately provocative. Her white shirt clung to her damp skin, revealing more than it concealed, the faint outline of her figure unmistakable. She toyed idly with a strand of her hair, her gaze flicking to Jim with a mischievous glint.
Jim froze, his hand instinctively tightening on the doorframe. "Who's... she?" he stammered, glancing nervously at Steven.
Steven leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his face hardened. "Her name's Alejandra," he said, his voice low and simmering. "And she tried to kill me."
Jim's heart skipped a beat. "Kill you? What the hell, Steven?"
Steven smirked bitterly. "Yeah, welcome to my life. She came at me with a wrench, looking to end me. Didn't go so well for her, though."
Alejandra's lips curled into a sly smile. "Don't exaggerate, Rider," she purred, her voice smooth as silk. She stood up, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey.
Jim backed up a step, his face pale. "This is crazy. Who is she?"
Alejandra walked over to her bike, which was parked just outside. She grabbed her jacket, tossing it over one shoulder but not bothering to button it. She turned back to Steven, her eyes smoldering with a dangerous mixture of defiance and allure.
"I'll be back," she said, her voice dripping with intent. "For you."
Steven's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he watched her swing a leg over the bike. The engine roared to life, and she shot him one last look before speeding off into the distance, leaving a trail of dust in her wake.
Jim turned to Steven, his face a mix of disbelief and fear. "You've got some serious problems, man."
Steven exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Tell me something I don't know, Jim."
Jim's face turned pale as he closed the door behind him, his eyes darting nervously toward Steven. "You know, there's a big problem you're not seeing," he said, his voice trembling slightly.
Steven raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with a casual air that belied the tension in the room. "Oh yeah? Enlighten me, Jim."
Jim gestured toward the window, as if the outside world was closing in on them. "The cops are all over the place, man. You've got wanted posters popping up, people calling you the 'Flaming Skull.'"
Steven's smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. "Let them look," he said, his voice sharp. "They don't even know who they're dealing with."
Jim's hands shot up in frustration. "Steven, this isn't some bar fight! You turned into a damn fire demon in broad daylight. People saw you. There's footage of you riding your flaming bike through the streets. The cops are calling it mass destruction. They think you're some kind of terrorist!"
Steven pushed off the counter, pacing the room. "I didn't ask for this, Jim," he snapped. "You think I wanted to become... this?" He gestured vaguely to himself, the weight of his transformation evident in his expression.
Jim crossed his arms, his voice lowering but still filled with urgency. "I get it. But now, you're a walking target. Every cop in the city is gonna be looking for you. You can't just walk into your garage and pretend everything's normal."
Steven sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not running, Jim. If they come for me, they'll see what happens when you mess with the Rider."
Jim shook his head, exhaling sharply. "That's the problem, Steven. You're not the only one who'll pay the price. If they figure out who you are, they'll come after everyone you care about. Kristina, me... hell, even Alejandra, if they find out she's involved."