Biker Mice Novels & Stories

Curiosity got the better of me as I turned to see what they were all excited about and why the dudes paled down immediately after the girls started screaming. Then the roaring of motorcycle engines filled the air, bikers clad in black racing onto campus at full speed. I had no idea why, but I felt myself being drawn to the distinct biker who seemed to be winning the race as his bike was ahead of them all. My gaze scanned his bike, and I saw that it had a realistic drawing of a silver-furred wolf with sharp golden eyes designed on the bike, along with a long line of smoky red flames drawn across the body of the bike.

Before they could realize what is happening, almost all of the bikers are dead. Just then, the lights came back on. Now the mansion is snatched away from the bikers who invaded it. "Ey, did you kill that asshole?" one of the bikers yelled from downstairs, unknown of the situation on the top floor. Nero and Reed casually leaned over the railing and gave the biker a sinister smile. "That asshole is our friend. Only we get to kill him. Idiots like you shouldn't even think about hurting him" Nero muttered before shooting that biker mercilessly.

CHAPTER 1 The Knights MC The Knights Motorcycle Club is made up of 18 guys retired from special forces, thier name is Knights MC. Due to their love of motorcycles and wanting to continue the team mentality like they had when they served, the club was born. They have three teams of six men each. They call them teams A, B, and C. Team A has Prez, Scribe, Cash, Doc, Chopper, and Data on it. Team B includes VP, Soldier, Rocket, Patch, Edge, and Hacker. Team C has Radar, Tracker, Ace, Navy, Jammer, and Gamer on it.

Right now, I wanted all the names of the girls and boys living in that town. I needed both genders. From my research, most of the bikers were low-key gay men who wouldn’t come out of the closet but would touch young boys inappropriately. We live in a society where boys are not taken seriously when they talk about being abused or touched in the wrong places. As usual, the parents of these kids would never speak up. A biker was as deadly as a mafia mob. They were crazy gang members who wore vests and rode noisy bikes around town with no authorities to keep them in check. They’d do anything they wanted—sleep with different women, young and old, and men, young and old. They caused noise pollutio

Over the loudspeakers, the commentator’s voice boomed with pure adrenaline: “Ladies and gentlemen, what a finish! After an absolute war on the track — those brutal endurance runs, the razor-sharp obstacle courses, and that heart-stopping final relay — guess what, guys? We have our champions! Teaming up with perfect sync, pushing their machines and each other to the absolute limit… the winners of this year’s Regional Biker Tournament are… Mike and Ezekiel! Yes! The dynamic duo has done it! Mike’s lightning agility on the shifts and Ezekiel’s raw power cutting through the wind — they were unstoppable today! Give it up for our new champions!” The stadium exploded in cheers. Adrenaline pumped ha

A low growl rumbled in his chest, making the ground vibrate subtly beneath my feet. Suddenly, the compound was alive with movement. The rumble of engines, the glint of chrome. The motorcycle club. They appeared out of the shadows, a tide of leather and steel, encircling Damon and his small envoy. Each biker pulled up, engines idling, forming a tight, menacing ring. And then, the wolves. More of them than I’d ever seen, their eyes glowing in the darkness, their huge forms flanking the bikers, mirroring their aggressive stance. The air crackled with a dangerous energy.

"I don't get nervous easily. Takes more than some bikers drinking beer to rattle me." "Is that right?" He leaned forward slightly and I caught his scent. Leather and smoke and something else underneath that I couldn't identify. Something that made my pulse quicken despite knowing how dangerous this man was. "That's right. I've worked rougher bars than this." "I doubt that." His voice was quiet but there was steel underneath the words. "The Iron Horse in Portland is a biker bar but it's nothing compared to what happens here. The men who drink in this establishment have done things that would give your Portland bikers nightmares."

Now that was the Ty I knew and loved. "We still haven't seen him yet but if you tracked him here and that book ties in then there are only so many places around here he could be hiding out. We'll get to the bottom of it. Just one more player, he should be here..." Just then Chaz opened up the gate and a whole fucking crew of bikers came riding in. The leader dismounted off his custom made top of the line ride with his wife's name emblazoned on the side and headed for us. One smooth motherfucker this one, and the shades just tipped that shit over the edge.

Clearly, Jax's claws and fangs had done brutal work. I felt a wave of satisfaction as I saw ripped throats and blood pools on the snow. The third biker lay on the snow-covered ground nearby. He clutched his gut. Blood pumped between his fingers. His face had gone pale. Jax glared at the biker. "Who sent you?" The biker coughed. Blood bubbled on his lips. “Fuck you. You… and the witch…You won’t expect what’s coming." "What does that me?"

My movement is clean and fast, so satisfyingly well-executed I nearly give myself a pat on the back. I might hate getting on a bike, but I know exactly how to get off one. Funny how fear works like that. “You named your death machine?” I ask coolly. His eyes narrow, clearly clocking what I just did. He clicks his tongue but lets it go. “Harley,” he corrects. “And she’s not a death machine. She’s beautiful. I built her myself. From scratch.” That actually gives me pause. “You did?” The surprise slips out before I can stop it.