Brock Lesnar Son Novels & Stories

“But my boyfriend is Luke, sir.” He just shrugged and spoke up again, "Also, my son has...a heart disease." What?

“I know exactly who you are. Leon Spencer.” Leon’s gaze tightened. If this man knew his identity, then why would he still… Mr. Larson cut him off, voice like gravel. “You’re wondering who I am. Funny how you never wondered if today would come when you were doing what you did.” He stood, pulled the cigarette away, and flicked ash onto Leon’s shirt with deliberate contempt. Leon’s eyes flashed. “Who are you? What are you talking about?” Mr. Larson’s expression hardened into something cold and final. “I’m Scarlett Larson’s father. What you did to my daughter. This is your payback.”

"What's going on with Luke? Explain it clearly!" Marshawn's voice was low and filled with anger, making Terry tremble. "Luke had a conflict with someone today and had his arm broken." "Who did it?" "A guy named Chad Jennings and another one named Weldon Green!" Marshawn was furious and cursed, "Damn fool! I've told him not to be too arrogant. Did he listen?" Terry plucked up his courage and asked, "Dad! What's Chad's background?" "He... it's better if you don't know his background. Knowing it won't do you any good!"

He said as he was driving Labret Demson POV I’m standing next to my dad who is putting a bullet on his gun, as he is done doing it, he aims it to the man that is being tied up under the tree that is full of bruises and unconscious. He is Paul Connor, one of Chaos' friends and part of his organization but sad to say he will no longer be. “This is just the start of our revenge son, so ready yourself because we will make them shower in their own blood.” Leon said to his son.

"Indeed! My uncle is the great Mr. Leon West! Once my uncle hears of what you did to me, he will hunt you down and make sure you meet your sticky end! Just you wait! I'm going to make sure he breaks every bone in your legs one by one, so you can feel the same excruciating pain!" Sonny paused, panting in agony as he tried to stifle the pain. He was well aware of his uncle's reputation—Leon West was one of the most notorious martial artists in the capital. Even the most successful and influential people in the capital feared him! Liam, on the other hand, was nothing more than a measly good-for-nothing. He would not even dream of crossing someone like Mr. West, not even in his wildest dreams! S

Adrian’s sudden remark shook Samantha so much that she rushed over to cover his mouth, hoping he would not say any more. But it was too late to remedy the situation. Quite a few people turned over to look at Adrian, while a huge frown spread over Nelson’s face. “Who are you? How dare you speak to me that way. Do you have any idea who I am? The boxing champion of the underworld is my brother!” Rick Kramer, Nelson’s little brother, was indeed the boxing champion of the underworld whose influence far exceeded Nelson’s.

Just then, she noticed Brock lying on the ground and screamed, “Ah! Why is this guy here?” Alex was slightly surprised. “You know him?” Waltz seemed slightly upset. “Of course I do. This guy is the famous Knockout Brock in California's underworld. He’s the fourth best fighter in his clan. His full name is Brock Rousey. He’s 36 years old and joined the Royal rank two years ago. He’s also Frank Accordo’s right-hand man, but he disappeared six months ago. It is almost impossible to bump into him in the underworld.”

He didn’t even try to plead on his father’s behalf. Only a heartless son could be so indifferent to his father’s pain. “I’ll leave now. I have a meeting to attend,” Leon said indifferently, as if he didn’t hear what Brock just said. “You ungrateful son! You can think whatever you want of me, but I am still your father. And as your father, I’m ordering to make sure Preston pays. You must avenge me and take back what is rightfully ours!” Brock shouted after his son, and sat down heavily, trying to catch his breath.

I look up, expecting to see Alessandro Ferrara's chiseled face glaring at me, but in that moment, what I see instead is my whole life flashing before my eyes. This is NOT my handsome devil. What stares down at me is a menacing gaze from a thick-bearded Brock Lesnar look-alike wrapped in a thick tuxedo and a hard scowl that could curdle milk. I step back, mortified. “You're not as subtle as you think you are, miss,” he speaks gruffly, “You either take it to the pole or pick up the crumbs left of your morals and exit!”