The Way I Do Bishop Briggs Novels & Stories

"You think this is control? Baby, this is me being patient." The word ‘baby’ from his lips sent a fresh wave of heat through me. We were past the halfway point to his penthouse now, the glittering spires of Midtown rising ahead. But Briggs didn't head straight there. He took a longer route, weaving through quieter streets, buying time. His hand left the wheel again, this time landing on my knee. I froze. His palm was large, warm, it slid up slowly, intentionally, under the hem of my short black dress. "Spread your legs."

his voice lowered as he looked at me, eagerly awaiting my answer, "I can treat you better than he does. You know that I can, please tell me that you know that I can?" I stilled, my head refusing to move, "I..." I looked into his eyes with my own sad ones, "I can't go with you, Bishop." He clenched his jaw, "why?" he snapped at me, "tell me why." "Because I'm Oden's do-"

“August I did everything I could, the neonates were on the Matt kid like flies on dog shit. We couldn’t even see there were so many surrounding us and the other warriors were getting the elderly and children to safety like Melia ordered.” “You don’t take fucking orders from Melia. No one does. She isn’t your Alpha, I am. Do you understand me.” Bishop pushed through and had Lenny up off the ground by his neck. “Yes, Alpha.” He squeaked out breathlessly. “Now find my fucking daughter and she better be alive without one fucking hair out of place.” Bishop threw him to the ground like discarded trash. I wanted to help my friend but Bishop already had more control than I wanted to admit so I kept

“You used to like when people begged. I assume that habit stuck.” “Maybe you should beg now,” Kain said, voice low and sharp. Bishop smiled faintly. “I don’t beg for ghosts.” The silence that followed was suffocating. Bishop began to eat with deliberate grace, every movement a show of dominance wrapped in manners. Kain didn't touch his food. He just watched, his jaw twitching every time Bishop looked at Luca. When Bishop finally spoke again, it was quiet, almost intimate. “You think you’ve won, don’t you? That little empire you carved out, all blood and fear, you think that makes you free.”

"I said MOVE that damn log boy! What is wrong with you, are you deaf or just plain stupid?! Move it to the LEFT pile before I dock every single cent from your pay today!" Mr. Briggs was so close that Leo could smell the coffee and cigarettes on his breath, a combination that somehow perfectly matched the man's personality. Short, fat, red-faced and angry at everything that breathed, Briggs had the unique ability to make every single word that came out of his mouth feel like a slap. He was standing with his thick arms crossed and his small mean eyes locked onto Leo like Leo had personally offended him by existing.

Bishop. He stepped out from the smoke, walking toward us, like a predator approaching prey he already had in his sights. “Going somewhere?” he called. “You think you can stop this? That you can defy me?” I tightened my grip on Luca. “We’re not defying you,” I shouted over the roar of flames. “We’re surviving you.” Bishop laughed, dark and low. “Survive me? You’ve already lost everything. Your friends, your memories, the club, even the boy you can’t live without… all lies. And yet, you still try.”

he gestured dismissively at the paper, at the room and at Briggs himself, “…is a courtesy. A formality for a world you are not equipped to understand. Release her.” Briggs looked like he’d swallowed a bomb and his face was a fantastic shade of purple. He wanted to fight. I could see the argument brewing in his eyes, all about jurisdiction and due process. But he also saw what I saw in Lucius. That ancient terrifying power.. the kind that doesn’t need to raise its voice because it knows it can end you with a thought. Briggs wasn’t just looking at an old man. He was looking at the end of his career.. or maybe the end of everything.

Briggs was dying in the other room, even the workers, and yet, everyone went about their business like they were blind and deaf. “I need to pee!” Mr. Briggs cried from behind the shut door that he had been sealed in, which was only accessed by Austin and Deborah. “I need help getting out of bed, please...” When silence was the only thing that he got, Mr. Briggs burst into tears, saying, “Please help me get out of here! They are killing me! Help me!” The feeling of a warm liquid on his legs, soaking his pants sent a chill down Briggs's spine. His voice began to crack as fear coursed through him, “Help me! Please, help me!!”

"But it was the only way to get you to show up, I'm afraid." "Put your helmet on, doc," says Bishop, his voice distorted by the breathing apparatus covering his face. "We are leaving." "No!" I cry, not even trying to hide my panic. "Sara and I don't have our masks. And I'm not going there until—" "Enough!" Bishop barks. Deakon. Chappel. Subdue the females.” "Subdue? What the hell are you?" Before I can get the words out, a heavy gloved hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing me in place. There's a hot needle prick on the side of my neck. Almost immediately my muscles loosen and my bones feel like jelly.

“He should’ve read it the day after the funeral. This waiting—it feels deliberate. Like they’re trying to test me.” Alison gave me a pointed look. “And you don’t like being tested.” “No,” I said flatly. “I don’t.” The sound of approaching footsteps cut through the air. I turned sharply, my pulse jumping. Finally. Mr. Briggs stepped into the room, his face calm, his briefcase clutched firmly in one hand. He looked exactly the same as always—silver hair perfectly combed, eyes sharp behind his glasses, that maddeningly composed expression that said nothing and everything at once.