The Mc Mga Nobela at Kwento

“I’ll write down the place. It’s a storage space that the MC uses to keep about a dozen vehicles. They’re all registered in other states, and they’re totally legal. Two days ago, King registered a new one for you, so nobody in the club even knows about it.” “Registered to who?” Warren said. “Me and Shay?” “No. To the people that you’re going to be from now on.”

And every single acceptance traced back to one name. General V. The introductions neared their end. I could feel it. The MC shuffled his cards slightly, his tone shifting as if preparing to wrap things up. I exhaled slowly. Then he paused. One hand lifted to his ear as an aide leaned in, whispering urgently. The MC’s eyes widened just a fraction before he straightened, clearing his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, voice rising with renewed energy, “I’ve just received word.” The room stilled.

I slide off the stool and follow him, my hand discreetly checking for the gun at my side. He leads me to a small building and slides the door up. I pause when I see the bike. Damn. I recognize it immediately from all the articles I read. “Yours?” I ask, stepping inside and pretending to admire it. To me it’s just a bike. I don’t get the hype. “Sure is.” I don’t know much about MCs, but I’m pretty sure this club can’t afford a bike like this without some serious outside connections. “Have you been on it?”

“Are you sure they’d still care?” Spider asked softly. “I mean, yeah. Four years ago, they were still pissed about you walking away from them, but so much time has passed since then. Don’t you think that maybe they’ve just forgotten about you? About both of you?” Mirrie stared at him, totally incredulous. “Do you know anything about MC members?” Spider shrugged and lowered his eyes. “Yeah. A bit.” “Well, one thing you clearly don’t know is that MC’s never ever forget a slight or let go of a grudge. There’s no such thing as a statute of limitations with these kinds of guys, OK? Four years is like four minutes to them, trust me.”

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“Oh come on! Spare me for once.” The MCs are very famous in this side of Sins. They are known to be friendly and protective when it comes to combat. They also have a huge part in monitoring Sins all over the world and some even say that some MCs are a part of the group that served the King. Still, no one knows it but them. “Let’s begin! This is…” “COMBAT! COMBAT! COMBAT!” The crowd got wild as the MC jumped in excitement. Then, on his last jump, he raised his hand as a signal of silence.

Neither one of them wanted to have to make that phone call, that was damn sure. Michael idly watched a beautiful blonde woman walk out of the tattoo place with an absolute monster of a man. He squinted: it looked like the man was badly scarred on his face and his hands, which only solidified Michael’s belief that this MC was, in fact, a criminal enterprise full of men that it was better to stay away from.

MC (sad): (mind) Am I so undesirable? Through the tears, you look down at your body. You have an Omega’s body, full and curvy. Your breasts are heavy and round, your hips wide so you can bear children. You have long hair and big, doe eyes. Although you are often pale and withdrawn, you don’t think you are ugly or unpleasant to the eyes. MC (angry): (mind) It’s all because I’m an omega. MC (angry): (mind) No one likes omegas!

I answered him. Malachi watched me for a few seconds then walked away when Marcus told me to lie down on the foldable bed he’d brought along. They all stayed there with me in the basement as Marcus worked on my back. I felt immensely proud to be receiving my Alpha mark. Gunnar was the only one that wasn’t there. He would only receive his mark when he turned 18, and therefore, he wasn’t allowed to participate in the ceremonies yet. “He thought you were bringing him to the basement because you know what he did,” Malachi said softly, to Kiran. I picked up on his voice, and I closed my eyes and concentrated on their conversation as they stood in the corner speaking to each other.