Emblem Harley Hyper Novels & Stories

His eyes lingered on my bloodied shirt. "I'm okay, really. I healed. I just want to get out of here." "Alright, hop on, let's go." A few more motorcycles pulled in behind us. Cole handed me his helmet. I swung my leg over. I traced the wings on his black leather jacket. I'd never gotten a chance to see them up close. It was an intricate embroider of a curvy woman with angel wings bent forward, blowing a kiss. Above it in scripted writing read "Ardor Brothers."

The Iron Wolves. I wiped my hands on a rag and stepped out of the garage bay. Five bikes rolled into the parking lot, their chrome gleaming in the noon sun. Dax Steele rode at the front, his Harley customized with details that made my mechanic's heart appreciate the craftsmanship even as my brain screamed at me to run. He dismounted with that same predatory grace I'd witnessed last night. Today he wore a leather vest over a black t-shirt, his club patches prominently displayed, Vice President. The Iron Wolves logo, a snarling wolf's head surrounded by flames and dominated his back.

The bar looks spotless, and the alcohol bottles are lined up with military precision in glass cabinets hanging above the counter. This place is clean for a biker bar. Only the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and cigars gives it away. I turn around and spot the massive logo of the MC painted on the wall: a black, realistic-looking skull grinning on a red background. Behind the skull are huge black angel wings, and a blunt hangs out of the creepy grin. Above it reads "Highway Demons," and below: "MC" and "Nevada."

The thin lines seem to extend in a beautiful planned pattern. “You would think I’d learn by the third time of being caught, saved and punished but I didn’t. The last time I tried he thought I needed to be reminded of who I was.” Althea feels slightly anxious observing Harley take his shirt off, completely taken by surprise when the older turns around to show her two long scars on the centre of his back. The healed skin extends into two long ovals on his shoulder blades. “He nicknamed me Hope. Someone who prevails when they are about to die,” Harley says.

A son’s fatal flaw: believing he’s outgrown the monster’s shadow. “Él está aquí (He’s here),” she whispers. Thunder cracks, and the Harley’s roar answers—not the familiar purr of my Road King, but the guttural snarl of Esteban’s custom Fat Boy. He’d built it from scrap metal and spite, its pipes tuned to mimic a death rattle. A symphony for the graves he’d yet to dig. My hands shake as I recover my wrench. Its ridges bite into my palm like a lifeline.

Emmett swallowed hard and scratched his head, as he hadn’t raced in a while, but for Eli, he would do it. “So, where is he?” Eli asked, but they were interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle engine, and Eli knew exactly what kind of motorcycle made that sound. “Damn. One of my favorite expensive motorbikes. BMW HP4,” Eli muttered, then pushed the people blocking his way to see who wanted to challenge Emmett. He frowned when he saw one of the most expensive motorcycles in the Philippines and squinted to identify who Emmett’s opponent would be, but he couldn’t recognize him.

We're going to be more than okay. I set a plate of pancakes on the table and finally look down at the letters in my hand. Might as well see what was so important that Mr. Cole had to deliver them personally. The first envelope is plain, cream-colored. Professional. But when I turn it over, my breath catches in my throat. There, pressed into the wax seal, is an emblem I know too well. A wolf's head in profile, surrounded by a circle of oak leaves. The Crescent Ridge Pack emblem.

“You can park up near that bike over there.” She points to a vintage Harley, and he parks up next to it. He gets out and admires the bike. She comes and stands next to him. It’s a shovelhead, mostly black with some chrome highlights. The tank has light grey smoke trails along it, almost identical to the ones on her arms. It also has some black leather bags attached on either side of the back wheel, and a helmet hung on one handlebar. It looks to be in perfect condition. Kai lets out a low whistle as he walks over to it,

Of course they could not beat them! Rumble… Soon, military-armed helicopters appeared out of the skies above the exhibition center. Dark silhouettes zipped down the helicopter line one after the other. The men were all wearing camouflage uniforms, powerful firearms strapped onto them. The bare skin that was not covered with their uniforms were tattooed with the head of a wolf! This was the symbol of the famous mercenary organization, the Lone Wolves! “There must be almost a thousand men here!” Someone from the crowd exclaimed. “Master York is too much! I can’t believe he hired almost a thousand men just to deal with Harvey!”

"This golden envelope seems very fancy." "The inside is a little fancy too," Karmina told him. He opened the envelope and took out the documents. Harvey then looked at the emblem that was printed in gold. He looked at his mother. She didn't say anything while he read the documents. His eyes widened as he looked up at her. "The Rossi Empire?" he asked. "Your name is on it. Mom, what is this?" "The Rossi Empire is older than the Charles Empire. We were once the Dragon Empire's ally."