The Loser Club It Novels & Stories

They call me the prettiest bitch in Baltimore for a reason. This back room club doesn’t have a name on the door. We just call it Lose and Get Fucked. I come here every weekend. Win big, walk out with stacks of cash. Lose… and I leave limping, sore in all the right places, body humming from being used exactly how I like. “And after I’m done,” he added, lips brushing my earlobe, “Vito and Marco take over. Any style they want.” I frowned, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “That wasn’t the deal…”

he leaned forward, his tone mocking, “—you probably wouldn’t even understand them.” His teammates burst into laughter. I clenched my fist under the table, staring down at my drink. Ethan’s hand brushed mine under the table just for a second like he was silently telling me to relax. Then Marco finally spoke. “Tsk,” he said, his tone sharp and calm. “They really do let losers in this club now.” He looked up, meeting Drew’s eyes directly. “Those words coming from someone who failed so hard last time sounds rich.” The table went quiet for a second.

Cynthia: “Hey, Nadia. I just wanted to let you know I’m not upset about you leaving the club. Honestly, I think you made the right call. After that night, everything went downhill fast. Mr. Edwards’ business went bankrupt, and he was a big part of the club. In just a few days, the club’s gone—vanished. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. You dodged a major mess. Don’t feel guilty. Take care of yourself and Chris. You’re better off now.” Nadia’s grip on the phone tightened. She stared at the message, her heart racing. The club—the one that had been the city’s most famous—was gone? Just like that?

“Are you done checking me out, so I can go find my classroom?” “I will look at what belongs to me as long as I want, and no one will tell me I can’t.” “First off I don’t belong to anyone, second you can’t if it means I’m late for Art!” “First off you’re my Mate so you do belong to me, and second you won’t be marked late because I’ve talked to OUR teacher already so she knows that we won’t be attending her class today.”

Thank the Goddess—someone shut him down. They start roasting Jai about his dry spell since breaking up with Sadie two months ago. He’s been dying of blue balls ever since. We drink a little, eat some steak the omegas sent up, and then head to the club. The Claw is a shifter-only club on the edge of Artemis territory, popular for a reason. Between the red rooms, alcoves, and balconies, it’s basically hookup central. Not that alphas and betas-in-waiting like us can partake, but watching? Entirely allowed.

I'm pretty sure with all these people in my head, I now know why I lose arguments with myself. - Me The club was founded by two army buddies, Pops and Killer. Killer had two sons – Sinner and Brute. Sinner had a daughter and two sons with his wife, Lilly. Sinner, Lilly and both boys are killed by the Brotherhood along with others and cause the Club to go straight. Brute has two sons, Knuckles and Scrapper, and takes in Taz after her parents’ death.

"Honey, it's my fault. I'm so clumsy. I shouldn't have touched it. I feel so bad! If it hurts the bond between you two, I-I couldn't live with it." She really was clumsy—but intentionally. She knew my parents were my weak spot. And Samuel would always side with her, no matter what. As usual, Samuel held her in his arms and whispered softly, "It was just a trinket. I don't blame you. I'll clean it up and get rid of it so you won't have to look at it anymore. Don't blame yourself." Zara looked at me, choking back tears. "But Ophelia…" "She's just a kid. A little soothing, and she'll forget about it."

Pride. Clean, uncomplicated, mine-alone pride. Not the reflected kind — not the pride of standing beside someone important and having some of their light land on you. Not the performed kind, the smile at the gala, the gracious acknowledgment. This was the specific pride of having done something well with no one watching. I had walked into that apartment as Elara Kingsley, English tutor. Not Cassian Hale's ex-wife. Not the woman in the divorce. Not a scandal or a settlement or a name attached to someone else's story.

When I stepped outside, however, only the bodyguards' car waited at the gate. "Nick, something came up on my side," she said over the phone. "You go ahead. I'll be there soon." I did not expect anything from her. Without hope, there was nothing left to disappoint me. The deep winter wind cut across my face like a blade. I felt no pain, just as I felt nothing for Gwyneth. Disappointment led to despair, and despair left nothing behind that could hurt me. The car stopped in front of a private club. I frowned but stepped out anyway.

According to her, all her messages contained company secrets, since she was in charge of a major company. This time, for some odd reason, I tapped into the app. The messages came from a group chat. The participants were her friends from high society. Elaine had written, 'That freeloader actually had the nerve to ask for a divorce? Now I've seen everything. Just divorce him, then. He's going to die anyway. You don't want to be stuck mourning him after he dies, do you?' Serene replied, 'You don't get it. The company will be going public soon. If I divorce him now, my reputation will take a hit.