Biker Rules Mga Nobela at Kwento

And to my annoyance, I didn’t hate it. I took another bite of my cone just to have something to do with my mouth. “That doesn’t mean he gets to decide everything for me.” “I didn’t say he did.” “Feels like everybody else does.” Bryce leaned his forearms on the table. “There’s a difference between people deciding for you and people standing close enough to catch you if shit goes sideways.” I looked at him then. He shrugged. “Not saying the club gets it right every time. We’re a bunch of controlling assholes on bikes. But the good ones? They’re trying to protect without caging. Takes practice.”

That was enough for now. As they got bigger they brought in more members. Some didn’t stay long. Free pussy came to them. So they took on the skanks. They took care of them and they took care of the brothers. Even though they were a biker club they had a strict code of conduct. Rule one: Never hit a woman. Rule two: If you claim a woman you never disrespect or cheat on her. You put her above all overs. Rule three: We don’t deal in trafficking. If you do, you are out and we turn your ass over to the cops to deal with. Rule four: Ol’e ladies are off limits. Rule Five: What happens in the club stays in the club. Rule six: we don’t tolerate sexual assault. No means No. Even with the skanks. If

I directed my men around me signaling them all to wait a bit. “I want you all to know that the same rules as last time apply for the area. All those who oppose and cause trouble get the same punishment as before.” Audible groans were heard all around. Our punishment system wasn’t harsh; just very demeaning for a wolf. Two weeks of wolf form and the doggy protective wear for bikers. Plus letting any human who asked to pet us do so. It was so humiliating that it worked for most of us in the gang for keeping everyone in line. “Also; our stint here is a week, trouble in the area.” There were a few grunts and groans at that. Most of the guys preferred the month stop over, they usually had to fix

"When? How?" "Last night, apparently." Jaxon explained, his expression grim. "And that's not even the worst part. The boss is extremely angry, more pissed off than I've ever seen him, because someone defied his rules without giving him any valid reason. Another biker racing session was stopped last night, the third one this week." I felt my stomach sink even further. "You think Sera did it?"

The bike stops right in front of us, so close I feel the heat from it. I can't map out the rider, but they feel scary. “Hey, what the fuck, man!” the brunette snaps, irritation edging into his voice. The biker swings a leg off, never turning the lights off. They lift something long and solid. Is that a bat? They roll it once in their hand, casual. Almost bored. “Who’s first?”

Anda whispered to him running to the track. " I heard you've been playing royalty lately..don't they lock you in a cage or something?"one of the racers asked. " What's that?I hear fear...let's race Gutsy and stop trying to get into each other's nerves.. goodluck,you're gonna need it"Anda smiled and pulled on her helmet getting on her motorcycle. " The rules still remain..do not tackle your opponent is..stay in lane and ...win"Baron said. " Okay babes..are you ready to get yourselves some real cash .on your marks..get ready"A beautiful girl in bikini raised the gun above her head and shot.

“It was good knowing you.” In a minute, that gorgeous bike would be smashed to smithereens. The thing with werewolf motorbike races–it started with a motorbike and ended in wolf form. The rule was that halfway through the race, the bikers would shift into their wolf and do the final round of the race. Extra points for those who ruin their bikes in the process. It sounded messed up, but to witness those giant beasts as they shifted and smashed the living daylights out of a metal machine their size was a thrill beyond comparison.

I don’t know much about biker rules or culture, but I know this isn’t a good sign. It feels ominous. Only bad things bring everyone together—like death. Every time a biker dies, they all return to lay him to rest. Even the retired ones. Even those who’ve walked away. As for the Sons of Chaos MC, I don’t know much about them,just that they’re the richest biker group across the states. They own more businesses than any other MC, and they’re also the most populated. I’ve seen them fill up an entire bar before, and I once overheard Daisy and Matt saying that wasn’t even half of their members.

Even though I hadn't been paying full attention, a few rules had managed to stick. "In case you forgot, dating a teacher is strictly prohibited, handsome." I turned back around to face them. They were frantically trying to fix their clothes. The guy froze mid-buttoning when he realized I hadn't left yet. He turned toward me, his wide eyes locking onto mine as he took me in. I cleared my throat. "But hey, whatever. Rules are meant to be broken." He looked away and resumed buttoning his shirt. I let out a sharp sigh. "Next time, be more careful. Not everyone is as nice as I am," I deadpanned.

Asphalt Kings is the most popular bikers society in this city. The bikers aren't only madly good, but also madly handsome. Rumours say it's run by a powerful secret organization to launder money, and that's why they could snatch the road from government. But who cares? The boys just want to race. Here, Saint St. Graves is the top racer. Most girls come here only for him. In bed, he's A+, and on top of the bike, he's A++ Saint rules the road here. Like right now, everyone on the road is screaming his name except the jealous boys in the society.