Novel & Cerita Mask Rider Bike

Giving a short nod to Jace, Weylin proceeded towards the track. As he was getting ready, his eyes fell on a racer with a Yamaha YZF-R3. A small frown appeared on his face as he saw that the racer's figure was a bit different from the male, more like a feminine figure. That person was dressed in black attire with blue stripes drawn from the tip of the shoulder up to the wrists and the gloves covered their hands, covering every inch of their skin. They wore a helmet, making it impossible to see their face. Since the race was only limited to male racers, he brushed off the thought, focusing on the race.

He held his breath as the image of Alex on her Ducati Monster-S2R motorbike, with the shield of her helmet still up, imprinted on his mind. That woman suddenly became much more interesting.

The only connection was between Mariah and Yihan as she was tracking him. Yihan rode like the wind on his Yamaha R3 racing bike. He got it on his birthday three years back from his mother which he then customized to suit his preferences, especially the color combination of green and blue. He was determined on the mission yet was worried because Queen Chang did not have the knowledge of him setting out all alone for something best known to him.

“Then head away now. Maddox is waiting at the bottom of these gardens, past a large fountain with a motorbike. I’ll come in a few minutes.” Maddox stood as instructed. Black t-shirt, pants and silver eyes made him appear fearsome to anyone who didn’t know how loyal a Beta he could be. A gleaming silver Ducati waited for me. “I don’t have any supplies, sorry, just the bike.” “Thank you for not leaving me with him.” He bristled at the idea, his grey eyes glinting under the shade of the trees. “Never, I am proud to be a Beta Warrior.”

Robert explained. "She looks okay, let's make a deal, why don't you race with me, if I win, I'll have her for the night but if you win, you'll take my motorcycle." Robert looked at Roger's racing bike and smirked. "I already have a racing bike, sir, I don't need another one." He politely declines. "I don't mean the racing bike, I mean my 2022 BMW K 1600 GTL Black Storm Metallic, we both know it's good for racing too." Roger smiled.

"We'll see about that." Kiara appeared next to him with Sofia at her side. She smiled at Adriana and pulled her into a hug. "He'll be fine," she said quietly, but I heard it anyway. Adriana smiled but didn't respond. Sofia looked up at me with those serious eyes of hers. "You'd better win, Mr." "I plan to," I told her. Gabriel led me over to the bikes, and I ran my hand over the seat of the one he'd brought for me. It was a Ducati Panigale V4, top of the line and built for speed. The engine would purr like a beast once it was running.

"Get the bikes. The North Ridge trail. We stay on our side of the wire." "Of course, Alpha," Ezra bowed his head, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a flash of triumph that should have set off every alarm in my head. We rode hard. The roar of a dozen Harleys tore through the midnight mist of the Black Fang forest. I was at the front, pushing my bike to the absolute limit, the engine screaming as I leaned into the sharp, gravel-strewn turns of the ridge. Behind me, Kai, Ezra, and ten of our most lethal enforcers followed like a funeral procession of chrome and leather.

The Shadow Riders follow in a line of bikes, their engines roaring like a storm. The funeral is small, just us and the crew . Few people from my side are also attending. I know they are doing it for me. They don't have any relationship or ties with mason. The air is cold and gray. I stand beside Mason, my hand in his, squeezing tight. The Riders step forward one by one, saying quiet goodbyes, their faces grim as they pass condolences to Mason. He nods, his jaw tight but his eyes remain distant. I know he is hurting, blaming himself for not protecting Linda after allowing her back into Lily’s life.

I dried my hands on a towel and walked to the window, telling myself I was being dramatic. Rain had started falling, big fat drops hitting the glass. The streetlights made everything look blurry and yellow. And then I saw it. Matte-black Harley, silver claw marks scratched into the tank exactly like the ones I just painted today. Exactly like the ones Knox put on my old bike when we were seventeen and stupid in love. The bike slowed down… circled once… twice… then rolled to a stop right in front of my building. My stomach dropped to my feet. The rider sat there for a second, rain pouring off his helmet. Then he reached up, pulled it off slow, and shook out wet black hair.

"Felicia, this is Spitfire. You can normally find him tending the bar here." "Nice to meet you, Felicia. Can I get you something to drink?" "I'll take whatever you have on tap." "Make that two. You know what I like, Spitfire. Thanks." The older man shakes Felicia's hand and then goes to fill our order. Felicia looks at Carson, "Mask, is that what you named your bike?" I answer for Carson, "It's short for Masquerade, and he refuses to tell us the story behind the name."