Saturday Story 2025 #31 (Four Days – Part 2)
The newest Alexandra Ryder story continues today on my Patreon. Synopsis below:
When Alexandra Ryder’s vacation is interrupted so she can track down a known terrorist, she discovers she has only four days to prevent an international catastrophe.
https://www.patreon.com/posts/136121862
To read this story before anyone else, head over to my Patreon page and become Spell… B-O-U-N-D, too. The minimum pledge for this type of early access is $5 per month.
An excerpt is available below:
II
The extraction team was as good as their word. Within the hour, a matte-black BMW motorcycle was delivered to the farmhouse, accompanied by a drop point with fresh tactical gear, a rifle, and a compact, armored courier bag. Alexandra wasted no time: she zipped up a new armored jacket, mounted the bike, and tore off into the night, the engine’s deep growl reverberating through the empty countryside as she fixed her eyes on the horizon.
Her body leaned into each curve of the coastal highway, the motorcycle responding as if it were an extension of her muscles and will. The night air sliced against her, cutting through her tactical jacket and bringing absolute clarity to her senses.
Her eyes constantly scanned the road ahead, interpreting every shadow and movement. The headlight carved a precise tunnel through the darkness, revealing each twist of the road. Olive groves blurred past on her right, and rocky cliff faces dropped away on her left, creating a narrow corridor.
She downshifted smoothly through a hairpin turn, the bike’s tires gripping the asphalt. The speedometer hovered between 120 and 140 kilometers per hour, fast enough to make significant time but controlled enough to maintain absolute maneuverability.
The GPS mounted on her handlebars showed the route to Madrid: approximately 500 kilometers, with multiple potential intercept points where Torres might change his travel plan. Her mind was already mapping contingencies, calculating fuel stops, and tracking potential surveillance points.
A light mist began to roll in from the Mediterranean. Madrid was waiting. And Torres would not escape her this time.
She opened the comms channel to Melvin, who was in his usual work station back in the U.S., and the two of them kept up a tense, breathless exchange as the Spanish landscape blurred past her. Melvin fed her live intercepts and surveillance data as she wove through the barren highways, riding the line between reckless speed and absolute precision. Night bled into early-morning silver as Alexandra approached the capital of Spain, the city’s distant sodium glow growing larger and more menacing with every passing kilometer.
Melvin’s warm voice crackled in her ear. “Some vacation, huh? I’m sorry you have to deal with another crisis.”
“Tools of the trade. There’s always a crisis, and someone has to stop it. It’s not my fault that I’m too good at what I do.”
“Were you able to have some fun before shit hit the fan, though?”
“I always have fun, Melvin.”
“How many people have you hypnotized so far?”
“Hmm, let’s see…”
(…)
Should you decide to join this cause, your support will help make sure this site thrives and that more and more content is produced for you daily. Thanks.

