Devil Dogs Motorcycle Club Novels & Stories

"My father is the king after all. I've spent my days in the palace, living a life of luxury." "Your father...is the king?" Dominik asked, a bewildered look, plastered on his face. "Yes, is that a problem?" Dominik went quiet for a while. "Have you heard of the devil alpha?" The name immediately rang a bell in my head. Over the year, there a known group of Lycans, led by the devil alpha. The devil alpha was known for his strength, power, and ruthlessness. I had heard my father discussing about it with Vera and from the way he spoke, he detested the devil alpha.

I follow him down to the office. I close the door behind me and take a seat in the old black leather lounge chair. “What’s up?” Devil asks after sitting down in his own chair, his fingers laced together and his posture slightly leaned forward. “Don’t you think this is too easy? Too simple?” Devil gives me a thoughtful look before nodding once. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. I just can’t figure out why the Riders would start this kind of shit with us. They know they can’t win. We’re a bigger club, we own more property, and we’ve lived side by side for years. Why now?”

Instead of the hollow sound of wood, I hear a soft click. A compartment opens. Inside lies a black notebook. Untitled, unmarked, just the initials V.M. etched in fading ink. Vittorio Moretti. I open it slowly. No dates. No numbers. Just a list of names, some crossed out, some circled. And beside one name, scrawled in darker ink, two words that make my stomach tighten: Blood Pact. I stare at it, my pulse steady but my hands clenched. Blood Pact. The term my father used for alliances sealed by death, promises that only ended when one party was buried.

“Oh, great. Keira’s adorable and Zoe’s cool.” “Zoe’s running that tattoo parlour owned by The Road Devils, right?” “Yeah.” “What did Dillon think about you being around people to do with a motorcycle club?” Gabi asked slowly. “After everything that’s happened with The Fallen Angels?” Maria sighed. “Yeah, he was a bit hesitant. But then he talked to King, and King told him that the new President’s moved heaven and earth to make The Road Devils legit.” “Yeah, Aidan mentioned that,” Gabi said. “Wolf Somebody?”

"You gave her that money willingly. Last I checked, you were practically celebrating. So happy about this." "Things changed." She changed them. "She's in my territory now, Dmitri. That's all that matters." A beat of silence. Then — "The devil is coming down to hell, gentlemen." His voice dropped away from the phone as he announced it to the room. "Brace yourselves." I ended the call. Good mood. Excellent, in fact. Time to let the beast out.

He snapped a couple of pictures, and then he sat on the bed. “So what now? Should I get dressed?” He stared at me. His brown eyes looked dark and evil. “Yes, you should," he replied coldly. I watched as his fingers ran over the buttons of his phone. Who the hell was he texting? “What's wrong?” I quickly got dressed. He did not answer me. “Pebbles, are you in there? Open the fucking door!” What the fuck was the devil doing here? Chris got up and opened the door. “I'm sorry," he whispered as he left me alone to confront the devil.

They’re also a famous motorcycle club, but they’re their rivals as well. Carl was the vice president of the Wild Hogs motorcycle club and has been running the club even before they were in college. His father, a drug addict, never loved him and spent most of his time on gambling and women. His mother died when he was still very much young so he hasn’t received much love from anyone.