Damon Salvatore was a biker.

Born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona into one of the most prestigious motorcycle clubs he had everything it took – the bike, the contacts and the drive – to become one of the most notorious bikers of the Arizona region, like his father had been years before him. Clad in leather, he was set to take up his father's post as President and over take Vegas in wealth and power.

Phoenix Vagrants M.C is one of the most notorious and awed biker chapters of the Vagrants club, which stretches from Washington to Chicago, creating a vicious belt of power, war and the roar of a bike across much of North America. It is second in wealth and power only to the Vegas chapter only three hundred miles north west. Both chapters are caught at logger-heads. Each unable to rise above the other completely, but neither can outrank or stomach the idea of an alliance.

Giuseppe Salvatore was the ruthless president of Phoenix V.M.C, holding power over most every president well over a five hundred mile radius of Arizona, including that of the Vegas, Dallas and Los Angeles chapters. Grayson Gilbert, otherwise known as Boots was Giuseppe's second-in-command. Without family at risk he was the one who had enemies. Enemies with a personal vengeance against both the Vagrants and Boots himself. His wife, for all intensive purposes, fled the biker community after she fell pregnant, and Grayson, fearing for both their lives kept them hidden from all except Giuseppe.

Damon was everything Giuseppe could have hoped for. Powerful, driven, charming. With the Vagrants falling victim to war outside the club and Giuseppe nearing the time when he should step down the Phoenix chapter needed someone determined to step up and keep them in check.

Damon loved his bike. He loved the roar of the engine and the feeling of freedom as he coasted down the highway with the sun warming his back. He loved the runs he went on and the atmosphere in the clubhouse. He had everything any twenty-five year old man could want for. Girls find the lure of motorbikes and danger irresistible and for the past eight years he'd grown into a man comfortably, with his father leading the way.

He may love the bikes, and the Vagrants but he wasn't his father. He couldn't become a cold-hearted killer, infamous for the murders and incidents surrounding Phoenix V.M.C. He couldn't be like his father, but when it came down to it, that was who he was.

Elena knew who she was. She knew her past and she knew her roots. She knew her family and what she could be. She knew she had the kind of legacy you only read about in book. There was the irresistible lure of danger and excitement. Of being something new and brilliant and fiery.

Elena was a Gilbert down to her blood. Though that meant nothing to most people to her and to those who knew it was held in the same respect as those people you hear about on the news and read about in magazines.

She knew everything about herself, about her mother and about her legacy but she did not know her father.

She understood why, he had enemies. Enemies more dangerous than she cared to get involved with and he would rather sacrifice his relationship with his only child than have her sacrifice her life.

They had met of course, rarely, in passing. On one of the few runs she had attended and a few times when he came to her L.A home.

Grayson Gilbert was her father, yes, but that did not mean anything more than words to her. He had chosen to stay with the Vagrants in Phoenix and leave her mother, and his wife to raise a small child alone.

She had had a regular upbringing and for that she was grateful. She had been raised away from the clubhouse and away from the politics of the warring chapters. Her childhood was normal, she'd had regular friends who had two parents and maybe a pet. She could invite them home and talk about boys like any other fourteen year old girl but the second she turned eighteen she began wishing for something more.

No matter how hard she tried to pretend she wasn't, she knew she was a Gilbert. Her father was vice president of the Phoenix chapter of the Vagrants M.C. Her father's best friend was Giuseppe Salvatore, notorious president with unmistakable power. He had contacts everywhere. In every business, every police station, every law firm. The Vagrants were seeded throughout most of North America, viciously warring with rival gangs while forming desperate alliances with those with useful assets.

Miranda, her mother had sacrificed everything she had known to keep them both safe. Her life had been with Grayson and the Vagrants, living comfortably in the royalty of the chapter, held a step above the rest.

She had never been forgotten, nor had Elena. Grayson hoped they would return, or Elena would find her way back. He had bought her her first leather jacket when she was a baby and had insisted on purchasing a Kawasaki for her on eighteenth.

Grayson's subtle prompts wouldn't have been necessary. The leather and the helmets and the bikes just made it easier, but by the time she was twenty-two, riding her newly received Harley-Davidson Sportster she was certain. She knew who she was.

She was Elena Gilbert and she was a biker, right down to her blood.

Just a short prologue introducing blah blah blah. Do you guyses like? I know I said badass Damon so don't worry, he'll toughen up.

I sincerely apologise for the atrocious title but honestly? Honestly I couldn't think of anything better/remotely creative. Any ideas, suggestions would be muchly appreciated. Let me know what you think of this, I need to know how many people like this and how fast I should update.

Also, to anyone interested in beta reading this story: shoot me a message, yeah?

lol, sorry this is very short but i wanted to start of a little differently and get some of the background clear before starting properly.

Roughly inspired by Brigands M.C by Robert Muchamore... well not really. Just the bikes and the whole biker genre... yeaaaaah