Reapers Mc Novels & Stories

"For real?" "Yeah," Maya said. "I watched. He's gone." Dominic nodded. Closed his eyes. "Alright. Done then." "Not done yet," Maya said. "Still gotta get away from here." "Yeah," Dominic said. "Still that." Sat there. Getting air back. Vipers still coming. Not over till they were clear. But Reaper was dead. Guy who started everything. Who kept it going. Who wouldn't quit. Finally dead. Had to mean something.

But there are also some of them who are happy and excited because they want to overthrow the most treacherous organization in all of Asia. All was well so I confronted them. "For blood and glory!" They smiled and immediately responded to what I said. "We are eternal!" "Forever as one!" "The end is here!" "None shall remember them!" "We are the reapers!" "Let's taste their flesh!" "Fill them with regret!" "We're not afraid!" "DEATH AND GLORY!" Third Person Point Of View

he said, his voice low, a rough rasp of calm. Reaper stepped inside, the hallway light casting him in long, intimidating shadows that stretched across the floor. His leather cut hung open over a black shirt, and his dark jeans were grease-stained, familiar signs of his world. There was something off in his posture—shoulders tense, but not in that calculated, ready-to-fight way. This was something else. Worn. Like he carried a weight no one else saw. He glanced at the untouched sandwich on the small table by the window. “You planning on starving yourself?”

he murmurs. Rolling my eyes I cross my arms leaning back in my chair, “care to share with the class?” He presses his palms together and asks, “son, have you ever heard of the Reapers?” I frown, “No. What is a Reaper?” He leans over, “so when you die, the Reaper is the one who severs your bond from this world that lets you move onto the next. For us back to the Moon Goddess. They are curious beings and only those who have seen traumatic death can see them. I’m sure there is one in our pack right now, waiting for someone to die. They are nearly untraceable and hold no allegiances to anyone but their task. Sever the bond, let the soul move on.”

Jax stood at the head of the scarred oak table, arms crossed over his cut, the fresh stitches in his arm pulling tight under the leather. The room was thick with smoke and bad blood. Twelve patched members filled the chairs—every voting brother called in after the clusterfuck at the mill. Church was in session, and it already felt like a funeral. “Roach is dead,” Ranger growled from the far end, his jaw still bruised from the last time he’d pushed too far. “Two more brothers laid up. And for what? Some civilian mechanic Reaper snatched because she talked dirty in her garage?”

Reaper I made good on my promise. I turned the entire southside into a slaughterhouse. For the first twenty-four hours, the Midnight Reapers moved like storms. We kicked in the doors of every known Skulls trap house, every front business, every warehouse by the docks. We broke bones, shattered teeth, and dragged their bleeding lieutenants into the mud.

“Do you have any idea where you are? This is Caelthorn territory.” His eyes did not waver. “I do not discriminate between packs as long as the dues are paid.” The Reapers had a reputation. I have never known someone who escaped their grasp in the last five years. It was either I killed him or I died. I glanced behind me at Lillian. Talk about horrible timing. “It will be easier for you two if you just surrender to my blade. It is sharp enough to make your death painless.” I got to my feet slowly, despite my exhaustion, getting ready to fight.

“He’s feared. Ruthless. He can take a life without blinking—” She stops short, dread flashing across her face. “Boss. Don’t tell me you’re thinking something stupid.” I am. I don’t even try to hide my smile as my thoughts start racing. “I want everything there is to know about the Reaper. About his MC.” Her eyes widen. “Looking into him is a death sentence. You poke your nose where it doesn’t belong and you’ll end up with a bullet in your skull. Boss, please.” For a moment, I hesitate.

I know how that sounds insane and maybe a little fucked up, but that’s because they don’t know our uncle… Reaper. Once upon a time he was King of the Underworld and I’m not talking about some petty street thug with a superiority complex. No, he ran everything. Guns, drugs, intelligence networks, torture rings, black-market assets. If it was illegal, Reaper had his hands all over it. His face was on Most Wanted lists across three continents. Then Iris happened. He’s her biological uncle, and somewhere between her conception and falling in love with one of Mom’s closest friends, Reaper decided to clean up his act. He cleaned up his empire, legalized everything he could, and become part of the

The spell of real estate fell on the walker, fettered her arms and legs, squeezed her throat, making it difficult to growl. It was very easy to cut off her head - to grab her braids, and wave a knife a couple of times. And again, Tamir did not have to cut his hand in order to carry out the rite of repose - blood poured from a bitten forearm, at least draw handfuls. Donatos, entering the cold cell smelling of blood and sweat in the morning, kicked the decapitated corpse and said to the student: - I’ll wash my face and go to the whipping post - you’ll get it for not distinguishing a simple dead man from a reborn one. After that, you will go to Rusta, you will say - I asked to heal my hand.