The Biker’s Mafia Princess (Angel and Savage) novel Chapter 2

Scythe POV.

The rest of the meeting was just more of the same. As soon as it was over, Rebel got up and left. We followed behind her.

“Rebel, stop.” I say to her as I catch up to her. She has her game face on and one goal only. To find them and do what she was ordered to.

“Where are you going? You need to rest.” I say to her gently when Dante walks up behind her. His hand on her shoulder and I see her take a breath.

“To see our friends, Paddy, and Alonso. They should know where Roman is and what Luna is planning. You heard them in there. They want Roman dead and Luna captured.” She sneers and I know she is thinking the same as me. If the roles were reversed, she would have been killed without question. This is messed up.

“Then I need to head to the hospital. RJ maybe the golden boy, but he is still my brother. He was so scared of dying, I will never get the look of his face out of my head. I was the only one at that moment he saw.” She says as her face looks blank. It’s hard to watch when someone you love and I know Rebel loves her family, even if she denies it, is on the verge of death.

“Ok, we will go with you. That is not up for negotiation.” I say to her and she nods her head.

“Ok, follow me.” We each take her hands and walk out of the clubhouse towards the bikes. I look at Dante and realise can he even ride?

“Can you ride or will you take the SUV?” I ask him and he smiles at me.

“Oh, I can ride.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I roll my eyes at him, but Rebel just giggles as she shoves him playfully.

“Rude.” she says as she walks to her Suzuki Hayabusa. She straddles it, and I can’t help but stare at her ass as she gets comfortable. Fucking hell.

“You coming or what?” She asks, and I feel the heat rising up my throat. In more than one way, baby, soon, very fucking soon.

I walk to my bike and straddle it as we watch and wait for Dante to straddle one.

“Erm, whose bike is that?” I ask him as he starts it up.

“Mine,” he says as he revs it a few times and I look at him in shock. It’s not everyday you see a man of the mafia riding a motorbike.

Especially one like that. The latest Ducati. Nice.

“Keep up.” She shouts over the rumble of our bikes as we follow her out of the compound and onto the road. We follow behind her as she takes sharp turns and pulls back slightly. We ride past her. I turn my head and see her up on the back wheel as she flies forward. I chuckle. Show off. She is good at stunts and tricks.

She lands it gracefully and is off again as we follow her along another long stretch of road. The scenery changing from the town to countryside. She turns off and we follow when she slows down and we do the same thing.

We start to head towards a massive gate. When she speeds up. My heart is in my throat as she approaches the gate at speed. The gates open and I look at Dante and he nods his head and we follow behind her up the path and around a fountain as the ground opens up and we head down.

We are now in a parking garage underground. She parks her bike up and we do the same thing. She turns the bike off and climbs off as we follow her. I look around the parking garage and see all kinds of vehicles.

Bikes, SUVs, vans, supercars, a tank. Wait, they have a fucking tank? And is that a helicopter? There are more vehicles in here. Bloody hell. Are they preparing for war?

“You’re drooling.” She says as she chuckles, walking past us to the steel doors. She places her thumb on the pad, then her hand and bends, looking ahead and the doors open. She smirks over her shoulder and walks inside.

“Rebel, what is this place?” Dante asks her, and she looks straight ahead.

“Home,” is all she says when the doors open again and she steps out into a corridor. The floor is black and shiny, the walls are silver. It reminds me of a set of a spy movie.

I hear a growl and stop in my tracks. I look at Rebel and she smiles at me.

“Don’t be scared. She won’t hurt you.” She? She? What she? I don’t have long to find out as this, she steps out from round the corner flanked by more of her kind.

She looks like a lion; she is large and black with what looks like a mane. That is not a dog, no way. She is the size of a lion.

“Astrid, net.” (Astrid, no) I look at Rebel and she moves towards this Astrid.

“Since when can you speak Russian?” I ask her as she strokes this fluffy ball of death.

“Since I started working for Alessa. I’m fluent in several languages. Besides, these beautiful pups are trained in Russian. They were gifts from the Volkovs, bred by them actually. They are Tibetan Mastiffs.” She says, and I gulp. Now don’t get me wrong, I have been around gigantic dogs most of my life.