Biker Gangs Books Novels & Stories

Beautiful. Behind us, explosions. The facility collapsing. Imploding. Burning. Taking everything with it. Victoria. Rookie. Jax. All buried under tons of concrete and fire. We kept running. Away from the blast zone. To where Marco's army waited. Thirty bikers. Iron Serpents. Desert Reapers. Bratva soldiers. All watching the facility burn. We stopped. Caught our breath. Watched the place that had been our prison. Our hell. Collapse.

This was the perfect spot for all sorts of crimes, including those animal attacks that have been all over the news recently. I shuddered at the very thought, remembering the images that have been spreading all over the internet. Maybe they weren’t animal attacks at all. Panic began to set in as I realized that I was in some serious trouble. I could tell from the matching jackets that these bikers were part of some gang. They were also people I didn’t want to mess with.

“Some people just join those gangs because they love motorcycles. It’s a hobby. A lifestyle thing.” Emily tilted her head slowly, giving me a very skeptical look. “Yeah… right.” I laughed. “I’m telling the truth! You know Eddie?” “Yeah,” she said. “He’s part of a biker gang.” Emily folded her arms. “Why do you keep saying biker gang?” I shrugged. “Because it’s a gang.” “It’s an association,” she corrected immediately. I smirked. “A gang is just a group of people.” Emily rolled her eyes. “You’re the one saying they’re lawyers and professionals, and you’re still calling them a gang.”

“You’re insufferable.” “And you wanted to know more about the motorcycle gang.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Fair. Fine. Tell me about the bikers.” “I’m afraid there is not too much to share,” I say idly as Lalaine clambers all over the marble sculpture of a horse and rider. “Motorcycle gangs are guns for hire.” “Cheap ones, too,” she murmurs. I arch an eyebrow. “How do you know that?” “I’m a woman, Alessandro. I’m not an idiot.”

Her suitcase was zipped, her favorite books tucked under her arm, and her diary was carefully hidden in her bag. She took a deep breath and whispered, “I'm finally free. Blaze, Axel, Jace… I’m finally going to go to college and be with you guys. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll take over the motorcycle club too.” A smirk curled on her lips. “And ride my own bike.” She picked up the rest of her stuff, her mind drifting back to when she was seven. Her parents' funeral. It was dark and wet, everything felt numb and the men she barely knew—Blaze, tall and protective even at fourteen, had a hard jaw and soft eyes.

“They have been taken apart. I have handled it myself. The city is clean now.” “Structures?” Richard stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “What ‘structures’? Speak plainly, man! What are you hiding?” I was losing him. I was losing everyone. I had to give him a name. I had to give him a villain he could understand. A head to cut off. “The Mafia Bikers,” I whispered, the word feeling like poison on my tongue. “There was a… group. A bad group. They are the reason for the old numbers. But they are gone now. I promise you.”

He stood up, moved away from the table, and answered the call. "Yes, Sheriff. What's going on, calling me so late?" His voice was calm, but I could feel the seriousness. "Just eat." Noah reminded me to ignore his dad. I tried to focus on my food, but Mr. Adam's words about a biker gang were clear. I looked at Noah. His jaw was clenched. Even though he pretended to be calm, I knew he was on alert, listening to his father's conversation. It seemed like chaos was happening downtown due to a biker gang.

“They built a gang. Then another. Then another.” My chest tightens. “George excelled as a leader,” he says. “Under his control, gangs spread all over San Francisco. Money poured in. Kids were recruited. Neighborhoods collapsed.” His voice stays calm, which somehow makes it worse. “From the Hunters in Bayview to Towerside in Vistacoin Valley — eventually, every one of them answered to him.”

I still have no idea what caused the decapitation, though. Trained warriors, the Marine’s shake off their shock quicker than the bikers and let loose a deafening fusillade of automatic rifle fire. The bikers don’t stand a chance. Their bodies jerk and dance as the bullets tear into them. Before even one can get off a shot, they’re all lying dead in the street, their corpses tangled up with one another and with their still idling motorcycles. I almost feel sorry for them, until I remember the human skulls adorning some of the handlebars. The world is a better place without this gang, I know.

Plural? Lyra was going crazy as she howled for them, but my head was screaming hell no. Three mates? That was just insane. And these guys were tall, tattooed, and worst of all are the Blackthorn Riders, the lycan biker gang that’s been terrorizing my pack for years. They’ve left my people bruised and scared, and I hated their guts. But that scent was pulling me in, and I hate how my body’s betraying me.