It Chapter 2 Richie Novels & Stories

She twisted around, but the blacked-out transport was already tearing through the iron gates, its tires screeching against the asphalt as it vanished into the underworld fog. Richie released her with a disgusted shove, wiping his palm on his trousers. “You’re delusional. You claim you’re a noble asset, yet you behave like a desperate scrapper, and now you think you have a claim on the Prime Alpha’s bed? If you were his mate, then what does that make Chika?”

"See, I must say I do admire you for taking such a bold move. I mean it was incredibly stupid, but admirable. Those kinds of moves are what put you in a place like where I'm at. But here's the thing; you didn't just challenge my position and trash my home. You tried to take something–break something–that's extremely valuable to me. You thought to defile her with your designated minions, who aren't worth enough to lick the mud from her shoes. I want to make sure you understand the severity of your mistakes." Richie stared at me with his villainous eyes, and I could see a flicker of fear wash over his face. He looked almost sick. Then he smiled briefly and spit on the ground, barely missing my

Rain dotted the windshield, a quiet drum of guilt and indecision. He could go up. Knock. Beg. But what would he say? That he wasn’t the man she thought he was? That he’d been raised in a house where wealth was just another weapon? That Talia Blake had once been more than just a name — she’d been a negotiation? He was rich, yes. But not free. Not in the way Catherine was. And somehow, loving her felt like a rebellion — like daring to want something honest in a world where everything came with strings.

He waves, heading out the door. “I should probably head out too,” Richie grumbles, his fingers sliding over my stomach. He squeezes me lightly. “Eat all your pancakes,” he grunts. “Or what?” I shoot him a mischievous grin as I raise an eyebrow. His gaze narrows at me and the smoldering look in his eyes makes me want to moan right here. I know that look. Or rather, I’m starting to. “Bad girls don’t get rewards, Mia. Remember that.”

the guy on the left, Richie, says. "Richie, you don't get a cut. You need to learn your place." Richie stops walking. The temperature drops a few degrees as a black car speeds around a corner and stops on the curb. Two men get out but don't approach the argument. The original man pulls something from his coat pocket and sticks his arms out in Richie's direction. There's a loud pop like someone stepped on a firecracker and a flash of red bursts between the two men. Richie falls to the ground.

he muttered after locking the door. "Right, let's get down to business," Richie set his palms on the table. "We have work to do," he glanced up at every face that he could find in the room. "Today we finish what I have started a couple of years ago," he looked straight ahead at nothing and his thoughts overtook him. "Today we kill two people that have been on my way to the top for so long. I have slowly planned every day in the last couple of years very carefully up till this moment so none of you can mess it up for me," he drummed his fingers on the table.

Just like that, the internet turned on them. “What kind of messed-up story is this? I’ve never seen such superstitious nonsense from such a wealthy family!” “Clashing fates? What does that even mean?” “They were born one minute apart, and somehow it’s Suzie who’s bad luck for Xavier? Make it make sense!” “I know Suzie. She was in my class. She was a top student, respectful, and hardworking. What’s Xavier done?” “Wasn’t that guy in a hit-and-run? And Mommy and Daddy just used money to sweep it all under the rug?”

I spun around, and the anticipated pain never came. I opened my eyes. The person behind me shielded me while simultaneously giving Simon a hard kick. Caught off guard, Simon stumbled clumsily to the floor. He looked up in anger and growled, “You dare kick me?! “Wait, you’re M-Mr. Windsor!” Simon’s expression shifted instantly. Iris, who was standing nearby, looked up that instant. She saw Justin Windsor, the heir of the wealthiest family, beside me.

A message popped up out of nowhere in the old classmates' group chat. It was from Megan Watson, the class rep. Megan: [Let's get together next week at the Windsor Grand, since that's Rachel's family's place.] Megan: [I'll cover two hundred dollars and treat everyone to dinner, then we can all stay the night after!] Someone replied right away. [The Windsor Grand is Rachel's family's hotel? Then I want the best room there!] I hurried to explain. My family just ran a little diner selling sandwiches and soup. I only worked at the Windsor Grand. Megan sent back a rolling-eyes sticker, dead set on the idea that I was lying. That night, she started a sign-up thread in the chat. Megan: [I'm

I stepped toward the door, but paused long enough to look back at Ciara — held between my mother and grandmother, finally believed, finally safe. “We’ll get answers, Kitten,” I said softly. “I promise.” And for the first time since Maeve died… she wasn’t carrying the truth alone. I stepped out into the hallway, closing the office door behind me so Ciara wouldn’t hear the edge in my voice. I didn’t want her worrying more than she already was. I hit Wolf’s name on my phone. He answered on the second ring. “Ricci,” he said, voice low and rough, the background noise of the MC’s clubhouse humming behind him. “This better be good. I was in the middle of something.”