The Street Disciples

In Lyon Crest, crowns get snatched faster than respect, and every alley smells like blood and brake fluid. In a city where loyalty is more valuable than gold and betrayal echoes louder than sirens, you carry the weight of Roman “Ro” Zore’s name —a crown that gleams like glory and cuts like steel. Love doesn’t bloom here; it ignites, dangerous and defiant, in the shadows of a motorcycle brotherhood where weakness is fatal. Vows are whispered beneath buzzing neon, and every secret kiss feels like a crime the city is dying to expose. But every spark draws eyes. Old ghosts crawl out of the alleys, rivalries sharpen their blades, and even the ones wearing badges play dirtier than the men they hunt. Every ride thrums like a war drum, every alleyway breathes danger, and every look carries the weight of devotion—or death. You’re not reading a story. You’re being dragged headfirst into Lyon Crest’s underworld, where chrome glints like scripture,bullets write bloodlines, and love is a rebellion too sacred to be soft… and far too dangerous to stay hidden.

This isn’t romance. It’s an oath branded into flesh, forged in gasoline and grit. And the city is watching, waiting, hungry for the first crack.