Rouge Riders Novels & Stories

I must have sat outside in the backyard for about two hours now. Logan was just finishing up the last bit of the Dolls energy. “The winner of the backyard brawl: Dollmaker Vs Ryder first edition - is Logan Freeman of the undershadow” Gary said in his playful referee voice. “Shut it old man” I said zapping Ryder to weaken him. “I’m not in the mood to be mocked” “Awe, come on, that was a good fight, we should have another and invite the rest of the boys over and make it into a weekly sporting event” I laughed.

I didn't catch the eye of most because I was known to be wolfless and the fact that wasn't the case actually made me giggle a little thinking about it. Walking into the diner I was a bit suprised to see not only Duke and Flint sitting about midway through the diner but the brothers from the other pack sitting with them. I chuckled thinking it was probaly them leaving the note as a stupid prank or warning. I walked in fully planning just to step into the office and talk to Mama Rose. "What you doing here rouge? begging for scraps." Flint hollered at me. I rolled my eyes, it was so obvious when he used rouge as a term not my name and I knew he was looking for a reaction from me. I locked eyes

The soul-satisfying rumble of the motor made me smile as I clicked it into gear and took off down the street. Riding my bike as if I stole it, I zipped in and out of traffic until I reached the open road. The Rogues clubhouse came into view as I rounded the corner. An old abandoned bar had been converted into a clubhouse, the neon sign hung from the roof blinking off and on intermittently, buzzing as it swung in the wind. A veranda wrapped around the front, with tables and mismatched chairs placed haphazardly was a dumping place for bottles and ashtrays.

I would not beg. A motorcycle engine cut through the air, slow and deliberate. The sound pulled everyone's gaze toward the center of the yard. A sleek, black bike rolled forward, and my breath caught in my throat. The rider moved with a calm that spoke of power and control, as if the world bent around him. He dismounted with unhurried control. Kade Cross, they called him Ruin.

“Jacob mentioned that name tonight when we pulled into the parking lot. He saw the bikes outside and told me to stay close to him.” I stared at her. “Why?” She swallowed. “Because Iron Fang doesn’t just pass through towns, they are ruthless and dangerous Rogues Laila. They own them.”

I mutter, hatred still flowing through my veins instead of blood. I wrap the garrotte wire tighter across my hands, getting into stance as my eyes follow a subtle movement from the bushes. The signal is a howl from Ryker. Ragnar has us all briefed. My hands are covered in a pair of knuckle dusters. I had my leather jacket over my gear, which was actually a crop top and slick black pants that allowed me to move around, a utility belt with a series of knives strapped to it, and military boots. A howl sounds some distance in the front, just at the same time a group of rogues leap out of the bushes.

The structure lacked even a basic standard of cleanliness; swarms of biting insects and black flies coated every wooden surface. Clustered inside the dim pavilion sat a group of massive, heavily scarred rogue wolves, dark tribal tattoos covering their muscular arms. With bone toothpicks clamped between their teeth, their presence radiated the precise, volatile aura of lawless street enforcers. The exact instant Brooke’s boots crossed the threshold of the meat-stalls, every single rogue pivoted their head to track her silhouette, their pupils dilating with an eager, predatory focus. Madison rose from a wooden bench near the main entrance, her palm waving through the smoke to signal her table.

It might not be necessary to shift, and it will be much easier to fight if I’m not wearing a dress. As soon as I’m dressed, I step outside and immediately hear a snarl. I turn to the left and there is a brown rogue wolf stalking towards me. You can always identify the rogues because they look mangey and deranged, like a dog who’s been abused and beaten. His fur is filthy, with a few patches missing, and he smells like vulture vomit. The combination of death and decay mixed with the burning, acidic scent of vomit is the worst possible combination.

To bad he would not be able to help me escape, he must be loyal to his Alpha or he would be kicked out of the pack and end up turning rogue. Which meant no leader and other packs kill rogue on sight due to their lawlessness and no loyalty. They are like rodents eating your vegetables in the garden. No one liked rogues. Funny enough that is what I was, my brother and parents. We had to leave our pack behind because of Alpha Keeram, many packs feared him. Unfortunately mine was one of them, my Alpha Jake feared him so much so, that he was going to hand me over like a present. That's why we had no other choice but to go rogue and hide.

It would definitely cost a lot to buy this in B City. “Are you the customer on Stormchase? Hop on,” Monique reached out her small face, blinking her bright eyes, then she went down and opened the door for that young man who had dumbfounded and standing there for a long time. “This is a Maserati! Are you Stormchase’s driver who has been taking requests?” The young man sounded amazed and opened his mouth wide in shock, that it could even fit a huge duck egg.