The Biker's Fate Novels & Stories

Juniper shouted. The bikers spread out, one pulling up alongside Adrian’s side of the SUV, another pressing close to Juniper’s door. The leader—wearing a skull-painted helmet—grinned before pulling out a sawed-off shotgun. Adrian jerked the wheel, slamming the SUV into the biker’s side. The man lost control, his bike skidding out from under him. “One down,” Adrian muttered. Another biker pulled up—this one with a pistol aimed directly at Juniper.

Marcus squeezed his brakes, his Harley fishtailing until it laid down on its side, sliding thirty feet before slamming into a stack of shipping crates. Dax roared into the courtyard a second later, his bike sliding to a halt in a cloud of blue smoke. He dismounted before the engine had even stopped turning, his boots heavy on the pavement. He didn't draw a gun. He walked toward his father with his hands open, the cold wind whipping his hair around his face. "It’s over, Dutch," Dax said, his voice echoing in the hollow space. "The club knows. The feds know. There’s nowhere left to ride."

“One second I'm leaving a totally okay house, and the next I'm coming back to ashes.” The biker was surprised by that. Her house was burned? He didn't catch her next words, but the one afterwards, “...all because of this watermelon breasted girlfriend of…” The biker was no longer listening, his eyes bulged by that information. Watermelon breasted female. Oh shoot. No. Shoot. Quickly, he started the bike, zooming off. Then he was gone. “And the sad part is that she just escaped. No punishment for her.” She sighed, her voice laced in the fresh hurt of the burn.

I emptied the gun into his chest, until I heard the clicking sound if the empty gun. The front door was almost broken down as we took covers, trying to fight it out. Then we heard the sounds of bikes and heavy gunfire. The enemies tried to fled but they were pursued and shot dead. I opened the door after a moment of silence. And I was met by the wild faces of bikers, sitting on their backs. Some of the bikers were still checking for survivors and whenever they found any, they shot them dead. Baraka emerged amongst his men as they all started to cheer loudly. "Never forget how we pulled your asses from the fire here today, Mr. Badur," Baraka said gruffly.

"We've got shooters on the east road too. It's a coordinated attack." My wolf snarled inside me. They'd planned this. Waited for us to leave the compound vulnerable. "All units, fall back to the clubhouse." I yanked my bike into a hard turn. "This is a diversion." "Ryder" Cass started. "Now!" We raced back, but they were ready for that too. A spike strip across the road took out three bikes. Wolves went tumbling across asphalt in a spray of sparks and blood. I ditched my bike and shifted mid-roll. Shadow burst through my skin in a familiar agony of breaking bones and reshaping flesh.

I understood it in the empty space beside me, in the melted sherbet sitting on the bar, and in every hour that had passed without Jarek walking back through our doors. But the man on that phone had made one mistake. He thought understanding loss would break me. Instead, he was going to understand what happened when somebody took the Biker King from his Queen.

"I'm doing this. With or without legal approval." Sarah closed her eyes briefly. "Fine. But I'm going to be there. With paramedics on standby. And if this goes sideways, I'm pulling you out myself." "Deal." As we walked out of the police station, I kept my arm around Lisa. People stared—we'd become infamous. The biker enforcer and his society bride. The alliance nobody wanted. "Jackson," Lisa said quietly. "That photo of your truck. You weren't anywhere near the Iron Wolves clubhouse that night."

Two. The lead biker’s front tire exploded. The bike flipped forward, sending the rider flying into a brick wall like a rag doll. The second biker swerved to avoid the wreckage, and I took the opportunity to put three rounds through his chest. He slid across the pavement, sparks flying in a long, bright arc before he disappeared into the dark. I dropped back into the seat, breathing hard. “I think that's the last of them.”

"Let me make something very clear to you, kid. She is not playing silly games with you anymore. She belongs completely to me now. Turn your weak body around and get the fuck out of my clubhouse right now, before I have my boys carry you out in pieces." Tyler’s face went from pale to completely white. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. He opened his mouth to speak, to try and say something to defend himself, but he never got the chance. Two massive, bearded Reapers stepped out of the crowd. One of them placed a heavy, tattooed hand firmly on Tyler’s shoulder, twisting him around. They started steering his weak frame quickly and firmly toward the front doors. Tyler tried to glance back o

‘Before I forget, I have to tell you something’. He looked inquiringly at me, asking me to proceed with his eyes. ‘I presume you may not have been informed about the bikers. They were shot dead in an encounter. Know anything about this?’, I poke him. ‘I do not bother with such trivial matters’, he replied unconcerned, with boredom etched on his face. ‘Strange, right? Dead within 24 hours. Justice served swiftly. Very swiftly. Don’t you think?’ ‘Yes, strange indeed’, he said flippantly.