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Not His Old Lady Anymore

Lian Lian

I was the President's Old Lady - and the only reason his MC was still breathing. For three years, I ran every legal business the Serpents of Redemption owned. While Craig chased road glory across state lines, I turned a failing auto shop and a tattoo parlor into the money that kept the brothers fed, the bikes fueled, and the clubhouse lights on. Then he rode home from a two-month run with a sweetbutt on the back of his Harley - and her son. Ginger, he said, had saved his life on the road. So he put her in the main residence, in the room directly across from our bed. He handed her my ledgers and called it repayment. When her son dumped a cup of scalding coffee over my hand, Craig never checked my burns. He scooped up the boy and blamed me. His grandmother - the club's Matriarch - stood before every patched brother and accused me of hurting "family." That night, Craig told me Ginger held a place in his heart I could never reach. A debt of blood he'd honor above me. Three years. My family's fortune. My scarred hand. All of it - worthless next to his roadside savior. So I did the one thing a President never expects his Old Lady to do. I gave back his patch. Now they can keep their empty ledgers. They can play happy family in a clubhouse I built. And when this motorcycle club burns - I'll be the one holding the match.

Romance Drama Mafia Badboy Female-Centered Dark Romance Biker Motorcycle Club

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Bride Of The Shadowed Alpha:

FROM HIS HATRED, A DARKER DESIRE IGNITES

Written By

Okeke-Eze Ifeoma Isabella (Omaisabella)

❤️ The Council's Verdict ❤️

"Uncle, you send for me." Nyxoria was seen walking toward him. She was in her chamber when a messenger came to pass her the message of her presence being needed in the palace.

Vyr sat upon a throne of pure gold, the sunlight streaming through the open window catching the jewels of his crown and bathing him in a commanding glow. Draped in crimson and sable robes, he radiated quiet authority, a living emblem of power and majesty. Around him, the council of elders, about four, gathered at a massive oaken table, their robes marked by symbols of their clans and wisdom etched into their faces. They all turn to look at her with a big frown and angry looks on their faces, especially the one with a missing arm.

Nyxoria didn't care, her focus was on her uncle who beamed at her when she finally stopped beside him.

"Yes, indeed I did," Vyr said. "What do you say to this?" he asked, pointing at what he and the elders were discussing. A scroll was on the table and in front of Vyr.

Nyxoria looked at the scroll briefly and returned her gaze back to her uncle.

"I say we kill almost all of them and take the others." She told him.

One of the council of elders scoffed at what she said.

Nyxoria's eyes narrowed at him. "Uncle, will you miss him if he is gone? I think his seat is hurting his dirty ass."

Quickly holding one of Nyxoria's hands and Vyr vigorously shook his head at her. He had once made a mistake when she had uttered those words ten years ago when Elder Rue of the Water clan wolf had spoken of killing her, the following day after her parents tragic death. He had grabbed her hair and was shouting at Vyr and then Nyxoria uttered those words 'Uncle, will you miss him if he is gone? Let me start with this arm' and he and the elders had ignored her thinking it was just mere words until Elder Rue suddenly screamed out in pain. That was then they discovered she had cut off the hands holding her hair from the shoulder.

That day and even ten years later Vyr hasn't forgotten. Somehow, Nyxoria always has her sword hidden somewhere in her body and doesn't hesitate to use it.

"Don't Nyxoria," Vyr said and faced the elder that spoke, "do you have anything else to say than scoffed Elder Rivar?" He asked.

Elder Rivar was a 550 hundred and fifty years old werewolf who governed the Fire wolf clan.

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