Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Novels & Stories

////////////////////////////////////////////// POV(FIONA), I walked down straight to the beach in my uniform heading to the serving point, darkness had took over the day and the moon came to light it up, it was a full moon tonight, and it was somewhat special. I smiled at the amazing view of the tents, the tents were arranged with ranks, the first one was for the Alpha, the second for the Beta, the third for the Zeta's, the fourth for the Gammas, the fifth for the delta and I wouldn't call the last one, a rank, but I'll say it anyway, the Omega's tent since it was our serving center, the tents were half filled, and we expected more guests. The higher-ups were clanking their cups of wine whil

Tonight, was the night. Alpha Hardin ran through the streets looking for the fight. He was able to end the lives of five scattered wolves before encountering the heart of the battle. All around him his town was in flames and the lives of his pack, his family were taken away. No matter how hard each and every wolf fought, they all went down. The only members of the Midnight pack that were spared that night were the young children who were offered a chance to join the Blood Moon pack. Only ten of the twenty children accepted, the rest met the same fate as their parents.

@RedBoxingGloves: "Nobody guessed. Her name is Midnight and she is none other than the long lost daughter of Lion Vosse. A half-wolf. I look forward to her return to #BM tomorrow." I stop myself from replying to those comments because I think I might get in trouble. Also, I'm not sure if Midnight is going to be happy with this new attention she's about to get. If I say anything and let it be known that we are friends, everything is going to get worse for her. I'm not the most loved person in the clan (or other clans) and it definitely wouldn't give her a very good reputation. I put my phone aside after being on it for almost half an hour and pick up my book, ready to sit down and read it.

~Nick~ The name’s Nick Gracen, but most call me Lightning. I’m the local prez of the Wild Ridge MC Club. It’s a title that carries weight, respect, and a hell of a lot of responsibility. I looked around the clubhouse, a place that had seen more action than most could handle. The air was thick with the scent of oil, leather, and a hint of whiskey—a comforting blend that felt like home. The brothers were scattered around, some tinkering with their bikes, others deep in conversation about our latest shipment.

I don’t know much about biker rules or culture, but I know this isn’t a good sign. It feels ominous. Only bad things bring everyone together—like death. Every time a biker dies, they all return to lay him to rest. Even the retired ones. Even those who’ve walked away. As for the Sons of Chaos MC, I don’t know much about them,just that they’re the richest biker group across the states. They own more businesses than any other MC, and they’re also the most populated. I’ve seen them fill up an entire bar before, and I once overheard Daisy and Matt saying that wasn’t even half of their members.

"Justin will be at the clubhouse." Aaron gave a single nod. He didn't ask why Justin was awake at four in the morning, or why a billionaire's wife needed to see a gang vice-president in the dead of night. A few blocks later, the thumping bass of a jukebox and the aggressive, unmistakable roar of Harley engines echoed down the street. We turned the final corner, and the Midnight Reapers' clubhouse came into view. A dozen massive motorcycles were parked in a neat row out front. As always. A few patched members were standing near the metal gates, smoking cigarettes and laughing around a burning trash barrel.

Locks are suggestions, anyway. I gave the kitten one last scratch behind the ears—“You did good, buddy”—then slipped out, helmet on my heead, and hopped on the bike. The engine roared like it was laughing with me. Ride back to the club was a blur of neon and wind, Davina’s voice still echoing in my skull: “Leather Lurker, please—” I strut into the clubhouse and whoops, it’s packed. Music thumping, laughter bouncing off the walls, Cursed Kings sprawled everywhere like they own the place. Which, fair, they kinda do tonight.

You see lights ahead, low buildings, neon signs, rows of gleaming motorcycles. A large sign over the entrance: IRON WOLVES MC They pull into the lot and kill the engines. Viktor helps you off the bike, hia big hands steady on your waist. You look around. Men and women in leather. Laughter. Music thumping from inside. A biker club. Viktor glances down at you. “You good?” You nod, still clutching his jacket around you like armor. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you dry.”

The only thing I didn't know was how he picked his victims. It was almost six pm. In a couple of hours, that place would be filled up and another hunting spree would begin. It was still raining heavily outside so I could go there. There was a high chance the police would be there so I had to make sure they weren't. As I left the house, I shot Black a text, saying that I needed him to be my shadow at the club and he said he'll be there in a few minutes. If I decided to go when the club was full, it would be taking a very big risk because I didn't know if I would be recognized.

I am too fucking obsessed to handle these nasty stares on her and she is so damn pure to let those stare touch her. Family or not, I'll burn everyone alive if anyone dares to look at her with wicked eyes. "What made you think that?" He has a habit of shooting arrows in the dark. "Why would Rafael the great will buy every single bird in the city and set them free... Since when did the hunter become the saviour?" Mikhail has an annoying quality, he loves to fuck around and make me try to kill him. "I want all those birds to shit on people... I was bored"