The Biker's Assassin: Ripper And Chaotic 소설 & 이야기

I start up my bike. “Change of plans. Rebel has gone rogue and is not at home.” I call out over the rumble of my bike and Ripper laughs and the prospects look confused. Oh yeah, they don’t know much about Rebel, just that she the daughter of the prez also my ole lady and future wife of a mafia boss. “I’m shocked it took her this long to evade you both. What was Savage thinking putting Hound on her? I wouldn’t leave him watching a cup of coffee.” Ripper says while laughing, but I growl and rev the throttle and head back in the direction of home.

The bikers are clad in just black and they're both wearing helmets. " Fuck." I look at the handgun in my hand and smile. I might not like violence, but I've always envisioned myself using a gun. I know I'm messed up. Asa pulls out another gun as he shoots at the biker that's already next to us. The biker ducks, swerving to the left as the biker pulls out his gun. I shoot him in the head as his bike flies backwards, slamming itself against the cars behind. " Not bad." Asa says and I smile.

Vincent ordered, his eyes darting through the chaos, constantly scanning for danger. The scene in front of us resembled a medieval battle—both sides charged at each other like warriors in a deadly clash. For a brief moment, I was frozen, transfixed by the sheer ferocity of the fight. The bikers moved with precision, their actions coordinated like a seasoned unit, each movement deliberate despite the mayhem erupting around them. Before I could process it all, a burly biker with a mohawk and intricate tattoos running down his arm sprinted toward us. My instincts screamed at me to flinch, unsure if he was friend or foe.

She stuttered The assassin deepened his sinister smile and walked closer to her with his hand on the door handle clearly stopping her from entering the room and slamming the door on his face. " I am an assassin... my name is Assassinator" he answered dangerously revealing his dirty brown teeth. Bianca shuddered in fear but she still managed to put a strong stand " Why are you here? Do you work for Alex?" She asked. The question changed the assassin mood. Seemed the question didn't go quite well with him and only made him angry. His face turned cold and his scars became menacing. He grabbed Bianca hand and pushed her inside the room with force.

I stood frozen outside my apartment while my neighbors peeked through half-open doors, pretending not to stare then a groan sounded behind me and I remembered Damian. I looked down and saw him pushing himself upright from the floor, one hand clutching his jaw. The second he fully sat up, anger exploded inside me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snapped. He laughed bitterly, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “So your biker fuck buddies knock me unconscious now? Nice.” “Don’t start.” “Is this what I deserve after everything I did for you?” he shouted. I winced immediately as his voice echoed through the hallway, now the neighbors really had a show.

“You really are determined to destroy everything your father built.” Anger flared through my chest. “You grabbed me.” He tilted his head. “You slapped me verbally in front of half the city.” “That is not the same.” “No,” he agreed calmly. “It isn’t.” He turned to face me. “But what your little biker friend did inside? That is.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Adrian watched me carefully. “You should know something about men like him,” he said. “What?” “They don’t survive in my world.”

"It is everywhere. Simultaneous raids across seventeen states. Every major independent club. All being arrested for weapons trafficking, narcotics distribution, money laundering." Subject Seven moved to the window. "This is not coincidence. This is coordinated elimination. The boy is using federal law enforcement to dismantle every organization that could provide resistance." "Why bikers specifically?" Rebecca demanded. "Why target clubs?" "Because you are organized. Mobile. Independent of government oversight. You have communication networks that bypass standard surveillance. You have resources and loyalty structures that make you dangerous to centralized control." I pulled up my own phone.

For half a heartbeat, my grip tightened too much, breath catching in my throat. Not today. I forced the thought away and leaned in harder, trusting instinct over fear. The bike responded beautifully, hugging the curve like it was part of me. Fourth lap, chaos. It happened too fast for fear to form properly. A rider ahead lost control. One moment he was accelerating, the next his bike skidded sideways, sparks screaming as metal scraped asphalt. Time fractured. I saw the opening closing too quickly, the angle wrong, the inevitable collision rushing toward me. I swerved.

The room was a pinball table. The biker lumbered in again. Gabe closed distance and leapt onto the man’s back, forearm under the throat, legs cinched. The biker staggered, swatting, knocking a table, spilling a dozen chips and two lives. “Ride ’em, cowboy!” someone hollered. Gabe held on. The man rammed him into a pillar; light popped behind Gabe’s eyes; he kept the choke, counting in his head—one two three four— The biker’s hands slowed. Gabe bailed before the floor came up, rolled, came up in a crouch.

Killer tenses slightly and looks down at me, then glances toward the van. “Fuck. Devil, we’ve got scouts.” Killer grabs my hand and pulls me toward the bikes. Before he can push me onto his, I pull away and walk to mine. “I can handle my baby, don’t worry. Two people on a bike are harder to manage than one.” Killer wants to argue, I can see it in his face, but he straddles his bike anyway. Loud engines roar in the distance, approaching fast. “Fuck, they already called reinforcements,” Chaos growls, starting his bike.