Motorcity Novels & Stories

Morning to you too Hope , I know Mama May raised you better than that " I could kill him still saying nothing I walk. I get to the 2005 Honda Civic we keep in the far back from all the expensive collection of cars. I get in starting the car leaving the Miller Mansion in the dust.

before I can master a reply to that he drags me across the street. My short legs can't keep up with his long strides I am practically running behind him "Travis wait , what are you doing?" It's when I realise we walk pass the Motel parking lot " stay here i am going to get us a room " I say nothing as my mind goes blank he's getting us a room excitement fills me all of the sudden my plan worked.

Jordan gleefully expressed. “Not the time” I laughed. And we hailed a cab down 6th Eastern Boulevard down to the Financial District of the city – otherwise known as “Capital City”. Jordan and I work at the same financial firm – he’s interning at the finance, administration and accounting division of the company while I am on the junior marketing team – speacliasing in social media management and business analysis.

The roar of The Titan’s engines was a primal scream tearing through the digital silence of Metro City. It wasn’t just an armored truck; it was a symbol, a rolling declaration of war against the unseen forces that had sought to harvest their city. Behind it, a convoy of modified Krauser Kartel muscle cars and sleek Phoenix Mafia stealth vehicles carved a path through the deserted streets, their headlights cutting through the artificial twilight. Chester Smith stood in the Titan’s command module, his face grim, illuminated by the tactical displays.

Madam Amelia seemed to know this as she nodded her head at me. “Now what? You can’t break your vow. What will you do? You can’t have a Wolf Rider running around Astoria.” There it was. She knew what her daughter was. The half human part of it was the least of it. The fact that she was a Rider—a creature that could control a werewolf with a simple command. A creature that ruined my family's life. A creature, who must be destroyed before it gains power. There hasn't been a rider born in half a century, and even before, there was only one that ruled Astoria.

“Call this number if you need to leave in a hurry. They’ll send someone over. Ask for Trent. He’s... not human, but he’s reliable.” I nod, murmuring my thanks. He shifts the car into gear and gives me a long look. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.” I give him one last strained smile before I turn to face the shop. Two cars and a sleek, intimidating motorcycle are parked out front. The sign above the brick building features the silhouette of a howling wolf perched on a crescent moon carved in stone. MOONMARK INK is etched in bold, faded letters next to it.

The air is cold with the smell of coffee lingering. “Please have your seat,” he adds, pointing to the empty chair facing his. “Thank you.” I settle on the cushioned leather chair. “My secretary says you need the services of my company for a long-term business. Tell me about it.” He hits a button on his laptop and settled his gaze on me. “Straight to business,” I say. A smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “I like that. Well, my company, H-Motors, needs a reliable shipping company to get engines shipped into the city for assembling here.”

I didn’t trust her either. But something about her made it hard to look away. I rubbed the back of my neck and went back to my screen. I had video surveillance stationed over the area, it was easy to track whatever shit I needed. I Pulled up the traffic cam feeds within a ten-mile radius. If she was telling the truth about a car, it should’ve shown up. It did. A black Mercedes had pulled off the road near the forest line at 3:12 a.m. I zoomed in. The license plate was smeared with mud, but I ran it anyway. It was registered under Hollis Inc.

Dawn crept over the city like a reluctant confession. Smoke still rose from the southern districts, curling against a bruised sky. Damian’s car rolled through the gates of the Moretti Council Hall in absolute silence, escorted by Wolves on black motorcycles. The iron gates shut behind them with a heavy metallic groan — a sound that felt final, like a door closing on whatever fragile peace the night before had left.

A few minutes later, he came back, trembling, holding a tablet. "Boss..." he whispered. "You need to see this." I snatched the tablet from him. The image on the screen made my blood run cold. Twelve black, armored Cadillacs, lined up in the blizzard. A tall man was lifting Arabella into the first car. "The plates," I said, my voice hoarse. "Run the plates." "Boss, the cars... they belong to the Moretti family. From New York." The tablet slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor.