Bikers Novels & Stories

Lila fell asleep within four minutes of buckling in, exhausted from whatever four-year-old warfare had consumed her afternoon. I merged onto the main road, radio low, half listening as Maya launched into another chapter of her supply-closet dragon saga. "—and he only comes out at night because he's 'lergic to the fluorescent lights, Uncle Tristan, that's a real thing, Ms. Patty said—" That was when I caught the bikes in my mirror. Three of them. Matching black, riding closer together than casual traffic should allow. It was probably nothing yet I felt an itching sensation. Bikers rode in groups all the time, and this was a busy stretch of road in broad dayligh

Aaron laughed and nodded. “But I'm sure Yamaha R1 Black will win this race as always.” Aaron said, looking at the Black biker. The race starts with a fire in the air, all bikers accelerate their bikes. “The race started and every racer is trying to take over the other.” it announced through the microphone. “But the turns ahead of bikers are really dangerous, let's see who takes a good drift.” “Oh no!! Red bike flew off the track because of the turn and few more bikers couldn't make a good drift.”

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.

"When I was fourteen, I started riding with the older guys in the club. Terrified. Shaking. But I acted like I owned the place." "You were a delinquent. That's different." "I was confident. Confidence is confidence." Duke caught her shoulders. "Emma. Look at me." She turned. His daughter. Dark-eyed and stubborn and trying so hard not to show how frightened she was. "You are the toughest kid I know," Duke said. "You've grown up with bikers, handled a blended family, dealt with things most fourteen-year-olds never face. High school is nothing compared to what you've already survived."

It was a trio of death metal motorcyclists who had their guitars and spiked batons on their backs as they rode towards the fisherman to see if he needed aid as they saw him beckoning on them for something they didn't know about. “Hey man! Are you good?" The first biker asked. The fisherman wanted to speak but was stammering and trying to compose his speech for he felt intimidated by their presence, his eyes were gazing at this men's fit, they had some nice dark leather jacket and some metal ornaments on their pants. "Hey, it's okay man! We're here to help, if there's anything you need, you let us know, okay?” The second biker said. The third biker wasn't saying anything as he walked away fro

Alice I push the bike harder than I should through the wood track, twisting the throttle wide open. Those two bikes behind me are gaining fast, and I recognize the logos on their jackets even in the dark. It is Jackal's underground dogs, the ones who run his dirty races, who do his enforcer work.

Screams and shouts from the Philanthropists and Socialites echoed through the night sky as the impish Bokken Riders landed on the roof of the Harrison Galleries. Tires screech, rubber burned as the magical bikers crashed the party. "Shit," Warren revved his engine and pushed his bike a little faster, "Please tell me you've called the calvary." Warren groaned. His ride went airborne and crashed into the roof of the Harrison Galleries himself.

The winner gets to leave town for the wonderful opportunities waiting for them at the nationals. Max had been nervous about it all week long. As I moved through the crowd, I was confronted by the loud buzz of engines roaring, the thick smoke that curled into the air as bikes zoomed past me. The smell of engine oil was dense, disrupting my nostrils. Danger was in the air. I could smell it, too. Everywhere I walked, I saw an affiliated biker: Ryders, Outlaws, Vandals, Slashers and Devils. In their jackets, they all looked like different degrees of intimidating.

I scoffed, setting my glass down hard on the wood. "You wanted the girls dead, Julian. I gave that to you. Which specific biker gang took them is absolutely none of your business. Whatever extra details I find out during my missions do not concern your office. But..." I paused, holding his gaze. I leaned closer. “If you want to know so much, let me give you a free piece of advice... avoid angering the bikers in this region. Those people contribute heavily to the underground safety of this entire pack. Your royal toy security alone cannot make this territory safe for everyone to stay. Leave them be. Next?"

The world turned orange as the blast ripped through the silence, sending a shockwave that rattled my teeth. "GO!" Ruan bellowed. The Phantoms surged forward, a wall of black leather and chrome screaming into the light. Gunfire erupted—not the muffled thuds of the assassins, but the heavy, rhythmic roar of the bikers' weapons. It was a symphony of chaos. I watched from the ridge, my heart in my throat. I saw Ruan dive off his bike while it was still moving, sliding across the asphalt and firing his revolver with a precision that was haunting. He was a god of the road, a creature of fire and lead.