The Biker’s Obsession
My eyes stared out into the bright afternoon sunlight, watching with a racing mind as Stone walked calmly down the porch steps to meet the rival club.
The new President of the Devils was a very tall, heavily scarred man with a dark, ugly tattoo of a bleeding devil stretching all the way across his thick neck. He sat casually on the leather seat of his custom chopper bike right at the very front of their tight riding formation, surrounded by ten of his enforcers. He looked absolutely furious, his eyes scanning our compound with a deep, burning hatred.