Novel & Cerita Biker Rules

It takes Matt only a few seconds to extinguish his cigarette. He flicks it to the floor and crushes it under his boot, then quickly makes his way back inside. I remain at the window, my eyes narrowing as I look out. I count the bikes in my head—I can only make out about thirty. Thirty bikes gathered together. 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.

“As much as I enjoy watching you all roll around in the dirt, I have something important to announce.” “Here we go,” Kara muttered. “The annual Biker Pack Tournament,” Felix continued, pausing for effect, “is officially around the corner.” A wave of excitement rolled through the field. Warriors began murmuring, some cheering outright. Even a few of the older fighters exchanged eager grins. Felix’s smirk widened. “I take it some of you still remember how it works?” “Do we look dead to you?” someone yelled from the back. He ignored the comment, continuing, “All packs from the region will be joining this year. Four in total. That means more competition, more glory—”

They were probably just as concerned as I was when I went drinking with Christian last night. And broke the single unspoken rule our friend group has managed to keep for years. Never talk about Damien’s business to Christian. Never talk about Christian’s business to Damien. Simple rule. Apparently impossible for me to follow after a few drinks. Bloody hell, Sebastian. Why must your tongue loosen the second alcohol enters the system? Damien is crouched beside the bike, practically covered in grease. His shirt is gone, tossed somewhere on the floor. The sight of his back still unsettles me.

It turns out that there were some things that Angelina didn't know about her Dad. She asked Xavier why her dad never mentioned it to her and he told her that it was because Damien thought Angelina was too little to know about it because the game can be somehow dangerous sometimes. All the competitors were ready for the competition, including the mafia Don. His motorcycle was brand new, one of the latest designs and safe to use. He was wearing protective gears and he was so ready for the ride. What Xavier loves the most about being a biker is the thrill that comes with it.

My ribs screamed with every breath—courtesy of Derek's boots three nights ago in that motel parking lot outside Tucson. "You cannot run forever, Jenna," he had said, his voice cold as winter. "I will find you again." But I had run. Again. A rumble split the air. Deep. Mechanical. The kind that made your bones vibrate. I lifted my head and saw them. Six motorcycles rolling down Main Street like they owned it. Leather. Chrome. The devil's head patch on their backs—red eyes, fangs bared. Devil's Reign MC. My blood turned to ice.

"We're here because we're one pack now, but we're struggling to understand each other. I'm going to help with that using my empathy gift. Who wants to go first?" Silence. Then Marina raises her hand tentatively."I'm confused about something." She looks at the Iron Fangs wolves. "Yesterday, someone offered me a beer at noon. When I said it was too early, they laughed. In the Academy, drinking during daylight was prohibited. Is that normal here?" "We don't have prohibition rules." One of the bikers, a woman named Tessa, explains. "If you want a beer, you have a beer. Time doesn't matter."

The only sound was the air conditioning ticking down. "What are we doing here?" I asked. My voice sounded thin. He didn't answer. He just turned to me, his arm resting on the back of my seat, his body already facing mine. His eyes were focused on me, dark and impatient. "You said you needed out," he said, his voice low and thick. "We're out." I knew what he meant. We were out of the house, out of the rules. We were alone, and the empty black space around us made the risk feel huge.

"It is everywhere. Simultaneous raids across seventeen states. Every major independent club. All being arrested for weapons trafficking, narcotics distribution, money laundering." Subject Seven moved to the window. "This is not coincidence. This is coordinated elimination. The boy is using federal law enforcement to dismantle every organization that could provide resistance." "Why bikers specifically?" Rebecca demanded. "Why target clubs?" "Because you are organized. Mobile. Independent of government oversight. You have communication networks that bypass standard surveillance. You have resources and loyalty structures that make you dangerous to centralized control." I pulled up my own phone.

"I don't give a fuck who you are. He's taken and this is your first and only warning!" "Angel there's no need to be rude." Rider warned. To say it pissed Angel off was an understatement. "Oh?" Angel smiled. "Hey Joker? I'd like a ride on your bike to the bar tonight for work. Seems the rules have changed about a bitch being on the back of a brother’s bike!" "What the fuck? You know that ain't true! You will not ride on anyone's bike but mine!" Rider roared. "What's good for you is good for me!" Angel retorted.