Biker Girl Tears Down The Grand Regency

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My best friend, Nova, and I grew up together in the mud. She used to tell me that once she landed a job at a major corporation, she'd make sure I stopped being a street-rat biker girl.

I just sneered and wished her luck.

I knew the truth. By day, she was a cheap intern getting bled dry. By night, she was a private assistant in a maid outfit, forced to keep her boss company.

She was nothing but a corporate slave.

Yet, she'd always come back with a stupid smile, bragging about how the director praised her. She thought she was finally going to be a permanent employee.

I once kicked a beer bottle to pieces and screamed at her to quit. I told her I'd take care of her.

But Nova just cried, her eyes red.

"Big companies have big rules, Cass. I just have to survive this period."

"Once I'm permanent, we can save up for a small house. We'll never be apart!"

I hated how brainwashed she was. I decided to let her hit rock bottom on her own.

Until today. I was at the roller rink with a hundred of my crew, showing off some tricks, when I got her suicide note.

"Cass, I can't learn the rules of the big companies anymore. The director... he's putting his two big clients in my room tonight..."

I stared at the last line on my phone screen.

The bottle of Arizona Iced Tea in my hand was crushed out of shape.

The entire roller rink went silent.

The speakers were blasting heavy EDM, but a hundred pairs of eyes were fixed on me.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and stood up. I shoved two fingers into my mouth and let out a sharp whistle.

In less than ten seconds, a hundred people surrounded me.

"Cass! What's the word?"

I kicked the plastic table in front of me over and grabbed a jagged lead pipe hidden underneath.

"Get the bikes. We're moving."

"Where to?"

"The Grand Regency Hotel."

I tucked the pipe behind my waist and hopped onto my modified chopper with the custom exhaust.

I twisted the throttle, and the engine let out a guttural roar.

Behind me, fifty bikes ignited at once.

Taxi drivers on the road saw us coming and steered their cars right onto the curb in terror.

The wind tore at my ears, but it couldn't drown out the words playing on loop in my head.

"Big companies have big rules. I just have to survive this."

Nova Sutton, you total idiot.

I told you that director, Warren Wright, wasn't human.

By day, he had you serving coffee until 3:00 AM. At night, he made you wear a maid outfit to his room to report on work.

You told me that was just corporate training. You said every intern went through it.

I kicked that bottle and told you to quit, and you begged me not to make a scene.

Fine. I held back.

But now you're sending me a suicide note? Two big clients?

Nova! You better wait for me. I'll tear the Grand Regency apart tonight if I have to, but I'm getting you away from those animals!

When we arrived, a line of black Mercedes S-Class sedans sat in front of the hotel.

Porters were bowing and opening doors for guests. When they saw fifty choppers screaming toward them, their faces went white.

"You... you can't do this! No bikes allowed!"

Before he could finish, one of my guys rode his bike straight onto the red carpet. A dozen bikes swerved and blocked the revolving doors completely.

Four lobby security guards rushed out. They barely reached for their radios before my crew pinned them to the marble floor.

"Cass, penthouse suite, 2801."

My tech guy, Monkey, ran up with his phone. He'd hacked the hotel's reservation system ten minutes ago.

I led a dozen of my inner circle into the VIP elevator.

Every second the elevator climbed, Nova's note played in my head.

The doors chimed.

But 2801 was guarded by four men in black suits.

They were all over six-foot-one, with earpieces and suspicious bulges at their waists.

These weren't hotel guards. These were private security for the corporate elite.

The bald leader saw us and held up a hand.

"Private event. Move along, kidsD"

I didn't let him finish. I swung the lead pipe in a wide arc and cracked it right across his brow.

Blood splattered against the beige wallpaper.

The bald man screamed, clutching his face, and crumpled onto the carpet.

The other three froze for a split second.

My guys, Tank and Iron, took down two of them instantly. The last one got a fire extinguisher to the head from Monkey.

Four guards. Seven seconds.

I stood before room 2801.

Through the heavy oak door, I could hear thumping music and the disgusting laughter of men.

I raised my boot.

The lock groaned and shattered under my kick. The double doors flew open!

The smell of expensive scotch, cigars, and the chemical sting of a sedative hit me instantly.

I spotted Nova immediately.

She was tied to the arm of a velvet sofa. Her coat was shredded, and buttons from her blouse were scattered across the floor.

There was blood on her lip.

A short, fat man was gripping her chin, forcing a crystal glass into her mouth.

The liquid poured down her neck.

Her eyes were glazed and unfocused.

On the leather sofa opposite her, two balding, middle-aged men had their collars open.

One was filming with his phone. The other was chomping on a cigar, his face a map of greasy wrinkles.

"Warren, this intern of yours is something else. These college girls have spirit. Once the stuff kicks in, she'll be more obedient than a puppy."

Director Warren Wright stood nearby, swirling a glass of red wine and smirking.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sterling. I'll make sure you're satisfied tonight."

"We have plenty more like her at the firm. When this one breaks, we'll just bring in a new batch."

I gripped the lead pipe until my knuckles popped.

A second later, I kicked the heavy coffee table in the center of the room.

The table snapped in half, sending bottles and glasses shattering everywhere.

The short, fat man jumped, dropping the glass as it smashed to pieces.

I lunged forward, slamming the pipe onto the hand of the man filming.

Two of his fingers snapped instantly. The phone flew out of his hand, the screen spider-webbing.

"My hand! My damn hand!"

The man rolled off the sofa, howling in pain.

I grabbed the other cigar-chomping bastard by the collar and hauled him up.

An ashtray full of gray ash and cigar butts sat on the broken table.

I pinched his jaw open and slammed the ashtray against his mouth.

"Eat up!"

He choked, his eyes rolling back as he swallowed ash and spit.

Warren dropped his wine glass and scrambled back three steps.

"Cassidy Vance! You street thug! You're insane! Do you have any idea where you are?"

He pointed a trembling finger at me.

"You're a high-school dropout, a piece of trash. Do you know who Mr. Sterling is? If you lay another hand on himD"

I turned my back on him and walked to Nova. I untied the ropes around her wrists.

The skin was rubbed raw and bleeding.

I stripped off my leather jacket and wrapped it around her.

She was shivering violently.

She blinked through the fog. The moment she realized it was me, the tears started.

"Cass, you have to run..."

She clutched my sleeve.

"You can't win against them... they'll sue you..."

"They have lawyers, they have power. We can't afford this..."

I knelt in front of her, using my thumb to wipe the wine and blood from her face.

"Nova, who told you I came here to play by their rules?"

"I'm just here to take you home."

Warren had already pulled out his phone.

"Mr. Sinclair, something happened in the penthouse. Thugs are attacking us. Get security up here now!"

He hung up and looked at me with a twisted smirk.

"Cassidy, you think a few punks on bikes can run wild on my turf?"

"Just you wait."

In less than five minutes, a crowd flooded into the room.

Leading them was a man in his early fifties with slicked-back hair and a custom-tailored suit.

Sterling Sinclair, the Executive VP for the Greater China region.

Behind him were two lawyers clutching briefcases and thirty guards in black uniforms with earpieces.

Compared to them, my dozen guys looked like a ragtag bunch of kids.

Sinclair scanned the wreckage. He looked at the client rolling on the floor and let out a cold snort.

Then, he looked at me.

"You?"

He pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his hands.

"So young. Instead of being in school, you're playing criminal in a five-star hotel."

"Do you know what this is? Burglary, assault, and battery."

He turned to his lawyers.

"Did you get that?"

The lawyers nodded, pointing to the body cams on their chests.

"Recorded everything since we stepped in, sir."

Sinclair sat on a pristine sofa and crossed his legs.

His lawyer opened a briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers.

"This is the training agreement and non-disclosure Nova Sutton signed when she joined."

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and held the paper in front of me.

"According to Section 7, if the employee resigns during the training period, she must compensate the firm for training costs, loss of clients, and trade secret leaks."

"The total is fifty million dollars."

Fifty million. Nova couldn't earn that in ten lifetimes.

The lawyer continued.

"Also, tonight's drinks were a standard business hospitality event."

"Miss Sutton participated voluntarily. We have her signed consent form right here."

The lawyer sneered.

"The lady simply had too much to drink. We have security footage to prove it."

"You, on the other hand, broke into a private suite with a gang and seriously injured two business leaders."

"I don't think I need to tell you what the consequences are, do I?"

I knew that signature was forced. This was a trap they had set long ago.

Warren stepped forward again, straightening his collar and grinning.

"Cassidy, these are the rules of a big platform."

"Poor people are meant to be tools. You think you're some hero?"

"You're just a girl from a roller rink. You probably don't have five hundred bucks to your name. You think you can challenge a global corporation?"

Behind me, Nova was trembling so hard I could feel it.

Suddenly, she broke free from my grip and threw herself at Sinclair's feet.

"Mr. Sinclair... please... let Cass go..."

She slammed her forehead against the floor.

"I signed the papers. It was me. I'll stay... I'll do whatever the clients want... just don't go after her..."

Her forehead was already bruising.

Watching her crawl before these animals made my heart ache.

I grabbed her arm and hauled her up, then I slapped her across the face.

She froze.

"Nova Sutton, stand up straight."

"If you kneel to these bastards one more time, we are done."

She bit her lip, tears streaming down her face.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, getting closer.

The sound of combat boots on carpet.

A hundred elite guards had been mobilized from the regional headquarters. They had the entire penthouse locked down.

Fire doors were barred. Elevators were set to exit-only.

My guys were trapped in the hallway, surrounded by a sea of black uniforms.

There was no way out.

Sinclair wasn't in a hurry. He just sat there, watching me.

Muffled thuds came from the hallway. It was the sound of my crew being dropped by tasers.

One scream followed another.

Within two minutes, the hallway went silent.

A security captain walked in, his boots stained with a bit of blood. He nodded to Sinclair.

"Sir, everyone outside has been neutralized."

Sinclair nodded, satisfied.

He stood up and paced slowly toward me.

"Little biker girl."

He sighed.

"You thought picking up a pipe could solve things?"

"In this city, what is a fist worth?"

"Capital, legal teams, media, connectionsDthings you've never even heard of. Any one of them could crush you into dust."

He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills.

He weighed them in his hand.

Then, he slapped the stack right into my face.

The bills scattered, fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

Warren scurried over, squatting down and laughing.

"Hahaha! Mr. Sinclair is so generous! He's giving the biker girl a price!"

Sinclair looked down at me, his voice quiet.

"Kneel."

"Lick the wine off the floor."

"Then, let your little friend take care of these two gentlemen."

He tilted his head toward Nova, then looked back at me.

"Do that, and I'll let this go. You can take your trashy crew and leave."

He stepped closer, leaning in until his breath was at my ear.

"If you don't..."

"Both of you will disappear from the face of the earth tonight."

"That fifty-million-dollar debt? I'll put it on your families."

"Your mom who sells street food? Your uncle who drives a delivery trike? You think they'll survive that?"

He straightened his cuffs.

I didn't say a word.

I just looked down at the bills scattered around my boots.

Suddenly, Nova moved.

While everyone was staring at me, she reached for a triangular piece of broken glass from the coffee table.

She held the jagged edge to her own throat.

She had stopped crying.

"Cass... just go."

Her voice was soft and eerily calm.

"You can't save me. Leave. I'll handle the debt... don't worry about me..."

The glass bit into her skin, and a thin line of red appeared.

I kicked the glass out of her hand before she could do it.

She blinked, stunned.

I knelt down and used my sleeve to wipe the blood from her wrist.

Then I stood up and turned around.

Under my feet were the bills.

In front of me were the smug Sinclair and the grinning Warren.

My crew was lying unconscious in the hall.

I took a deep breath.

Then, I started laughing.

Sinclair's eyelid flickered. He took half a step back.

Warren's smile froze.

Even the guards instinctively gripped their tasers tighter.

I laughed until I had to wipe a tear from my eye.

Then, I pulled out my phone.

"Warren, oh Warren."

"You didn't really think I was just some street punk living on scraps, did you?"