A ruthless biker gang preys on the wrong target and meets a mysterious, deadly fate in a fog-laden town.
Copyright © Priya Florence Shah
The fog hung thick and low over the quiet town, casting long, ghostly fingers across the roads as four rumbling bikes roared through the mist. The brotherhood was back—a band of hardened men, each with a past more twisted than the last, men who thrived on fear and darkness.
Leather-clad and battle-worn, they moved like wraiths in the night, scouring the streets for their next victim. Their target was always the same — vulnerable single mothers with children — easy prey for the dark, corrupt church they served. Behind its holy symbols lay a hive of greed, where each soul they delivered became a twisted token of power.
At the head of the pack rode Deke, their leader, as sharp as he was cruel. His eyes gleamed darkly under his leather cap, and his face bore scars from battles won and lost. They called him “Reverend” as a grim joke, for he saw himself as a man of purpose in his twisted devotion to their church.
Behind him, Grady, the bruiser, had grown bitter from a string of failed relationships that had long drained the softness from him. Tank, towering and stoic, hid a deeper pain beneath his silence, the pain of a man built on lies and violence.
And then there was “Lucky” Lou, the charmer, who wore a wide grin and had a silver tongue but little conscience, his laughter often the loudest, though it never reached his eyes. Beneath the leather and bravado, each of them harbored festering sickness and self-loathing, wounds hidden behind a shared oath and a thirst for dominance.
That autumn night, they plotted their next victim: Mila, a quiet woman who had recently moved to town with her young daughter, Lily. Alone and unassuming, she seemed like the perfect target for their schemes.
But what the brotherhood didn’t know was that Mila was no ordinary woman. Her life threaded between two realms, one foot in the physical world and the other in the ethereal.
As a spiritualist, she sensed more than most, perceiving whispers on the wind, glimpsing hidden truths in shadows, and moving in sync with the energies of the unseen. Her ancestors, angelic forces, and guardians swirled around her like a silent, unseen army, offering her guidance, and tonight, protection.
In the stillness of her home, Mila’s skin tingled with the warning. She felt the malevolent energy approaching, a ripple in the calm. Her eyes flicked to her daughter, sleeping soundly in the next room, and she whispered a prayer under her breath, calling upon the forces that watched over her.
***
“Reverend,” Grady murmured as they paused under a dim streetlight, “you’re sure this one’s gonna be easy?”
Deke’s mouth twisted into a smirk, his voice low. “A woman and her kid. Ain’t gonna be any trouble.”
In her bedroom upstairs, Mila watched from behind the curtain, her heart pounding but her face calm. She had felt them coming—sensed their dark intentions rippling in the air long before their engines echoed through the quiet.
She knew what they were and what they wanted, and she also knew she wasn’t alone. Mila closed her eyes, whispering a quiet prayer, a plea to the protectors she knew were always watching over her.
“Angels and ancestors, I trust you to keep us safe tonight,” she murmured, feeling a gentle pressure surround her, as though hands rested on her shoulders in reassurance. The warmth of an unseen presence stirred in the room, wrapping around her like a cocoon.
Outside, the brotherhood slowed down feeling an icy chill settle over them, and for the first time in years, a hint of fear crept into Deke’s hardened heart.
Grady shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his arms. “Anyone else feel that? It’s colder than death out here,” he muttered, his chain clinking as his hands shook.
“Shut it, Grady,” Deke snapped, though he felt it too—a weight pressing down, like invisible eyes watching them, judging. “Let’s get this done.”
The bikes slowly circled Mila’s modest home, their rumbling engines settling into a low hum that felt almost oppressive, prickling at the edges of their consciousness like static electricity. As they crept closer, their tires crunching softly on gravel something felt off. Lou, who was always the first to sense danger, glanced around, his usual smirk fading.
“Deke, it’s quiet—too quiet,” he muttered, his gaze flitting to the fog-cloaked houses lining the empty street.
Deke shot him a look of disdain. “You going soft on us, Lou?” he growled. “It’s just a woman and a kid. We’re in, we’re out.”
But then something strange happened. A dense fog began to gather around them, thickening with every step, and the quiet murmur of voices they couldn’t identify seemed to drift through the mist.
They felt a chill sink into the air, more profound than the typical night breeze, and yet they pressed on, too hardened to turn back. The fog closed in around them, thick and cold, wrapping around their leather jackets like icy fingers.
Grady shivered, pulling his chain tighter as he muttered, “This place feels cursed.”
The fog around them seemed to thicken, swirling unnaturally, almost alive. Lou’s heart pounded as he glanced back at their bikes, the instinct to flee bubbling up, stronger with each passing second.
“Deke, something’s wrong. We should get out of here,” he whispered, voice trembling.
But Deke only scoffed, waving him off. “You all sound like a bunch of scared little—”
Before he could finish, Grady’s bike jolted forward, as if wrenched by an invisible force. He yelped, losing his grip as it spun out of control, dragging him into the road. He hit the ground with a sickening crunch, his body splayed across the asphalt, lifeless. A cold, dark stain began to pool beneath him.
“Grady!” Lou’s scream cut through the silence, his voice breaking. He stumbled back, his face pale as he stared at the twisted body of his friend. “What the hell was that?”
Tank rode forward, hand reaching for his fallen comrade, but before he could reach him, his own bike skidded out from under him, throwing him hard onto the pavement. His skull cracked against the asphalt with a grotesque sound, and he lay still, blood oozing from the wound that stained the ground beneath him.
Deke and Lou had stopped their bikes and started running towards the bodies. They stared in horror at the crumpled-up masses of flesh that were their brothers, their tough exteriors melting as raw panic set in. Lou’s hands shook violently, and he stumbled back toward his bike, desperation clawing at his insides. “Deke, we have to get out of here — now!”
They fumbled onto their bikes, trying to start the engines, but as Deke turned the key, an intense, blinding pain shot through his skull. He screamed, clutching his head as if a red-hot blade was slicing through his brain.
“Ahh — !” His voice echoed in the mist, cutting off abruptly as his body went limp, slumping forward on his bike. Lou watched in horror, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the world closed in around him, the fog swirling like vengeful spirits. He felt his own vision darkening, his strength fading.
“This… this can’t be real,” he whispered to himself, his voice a hollow echo. He stumbled backward, his hands reaching out in a feeble attempt to escape, but the darkness swallowed him whole, his body collapsing on the cold, damp asphalt beside his fallen brothers.
***
The following morning, Mila stood by her window, watching as the fog lifted, revealing the empty road. The world was still as if last night’s terror had been nothing but a bad dream. A sense of calm washed over her, and she whispered softly to the unseen forces she knew had protected her.
“Thank you. I know you were here.”
A faint shimmer of warmth flickered in the morning light, a golden glow just visible in the corner of her eye. It lingered only a moment, but it was enough. Mila knew she and her daughter were safe, the malevolent threat removed by the unseen hands of her ancestors and angels.
The townsfolk would whisper for years about that night, about the brotherhood that met its end on a foggy road. The local police ruled it a freak accident, baffled by the mysterious injuries and the strange circumstances.
But Mila knew the truth, though she kept it close to her heart: sometimes, when shadows threaten, protection comes from beyond, fierce and unyielding. For now, life would move on, and Mila would watch over her daughter with the quiet knowledge that the terrors of that night were gone, leaving only whispers in their wake, a mystery that would fade but never be fully forgotten.
***
