Mick Riva Novels & Stories

I watched the screen, hands clenched on the metal railing, heart pounding harder than I wanted to admit. He took corners without braking. Flew over uneven slopes like the ground wasn’t allowed to touch him. He wasn’t loud like Rocco. He didn’t need to be. His silence said enough: I came to win. By the final leg, it wasn’t even close. Rocco nudged me. “That’s Romero Mastrandrea. We used to train summers back. Don’t worry, he just likes getting under people’s skin.” Too late. Romero and his co-driver, or whoever his partner was, swept the race. Luis tried, I tried, but it didn’t matter. Every time I looked across the monitor, I saw him.

"The Ironveil driver. Number seven." I looked down the pit lane. Ironveil's three cars were black, matte, no visible branding. Number seven was at the far end, hood up, two mechanics working on something I couldn't see from here. "What about him," I said. "Her," Raphael said. "Her name is Mira Vanek. She's not here to race." I looked at him. "Elaborate." "She was at Dumont two years ago. One season. She left after a competitor had a brake failure in qualifying." He paused. "The official report said mechanical fault."

“You’ll cope, dearest. Just be positive and have faith in the fact that your beloved husband hired the best of the best to take care of you.” “What do you mean?” Vivienne narrowed her eyes and glanced at Marcus, who blinked back beatifically. “Are you specially trained or something?” “Better,” Liam smirked. “Marcus Riviera is a bona-fide ex-veteran and alpha shifter. He came highly recommended.”

Marcus Ruvia just continued his exit from the abandoned building as if he didn't hear anything. Marcus Ruvia was known for being a ruthless, dominant, and powerful young boss of the mafia in the human world. He is very tall and muscular. His delicate features and obsidian eyes made him look mysterious and aloof. His aura imposed that no one should try to mess up with him or else they had their own death wishes.

He comes back towards her and hands her the other drink; she grabs them and comes back towards me, and I raise my eyebrow at her. "What is that for?” I am confused. “A peace offering.” She says it and smirks. “For who?” I ask, still feeling confused. “For Mariah, silly, I got the whiskey for you to give you courage and the hypnotic for her since it’s her favorite drink; now march over there, offer her it, and ask her if you can speak with her privately; this is your only chance since Nick is not here.” Mila says, I nod, and she smirks.

“Long morning. I think I sparred with every elite warrior, or at least most of them.” “Why?” Miles asked, looking between my espresso and me, like he was asking permission to have some. I nodded and he gratefully lifted it to his lips. The man is addicted. Every morning starts with espresso for him. “I let Rome out for the first time,” Mick said smugly. “You have to come to training tomorrow. You’re the last one to defeat.” “Bull shit,” Beau huffed. “Fight Lenny.” “Rome did,” Mick smirked. “Whooped his tail.”

“Yeah sure, let’s do this” Roman answered with a sharp nod before taking off his seat belt and getting down from the car. He had a face cap in the car which he didn’t forget to take and put on immediately. Even though Grey said it was safe, he still didn’t want to blow his cover, Harley made for the door as she opened it, Roman held the heavy glass door for her to go in before walking behind her and releasing the door to close on it’s on.