Slainte!!!

My name is Kingston. Both my father and grandfather were outlaw bikers. Like gasoline, rebellion coursed deep within my veins. I was the middle son of an Irish Catholic family. Unlike my cop brother, I couldn’t live on the straight and narrow. Taking another road was never an option. I was hungry; I was wayward; I was lawless, and I had to be me. Running the streets of Boston, I couldn’t tie my boots without the authorities crawling up my back. I set my mind on building a club, one that would not pale in my father’s shadow. Forged by blood and friendships that spanned the course of decades, we were the nameless sons of the Immortals and Lords. I lived by two rules: loyalty and respect. It wasn’t personal until my past came back to torment me, smashing me straight through the heart. Noses to the pavement we run wild like the Wolves of St. Brigid. Establishing a presence for our club was the simple part, steering from mayhem, useless. Caught in the throes of a mafia war, my world is suddenly rocked

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/d7f802_097fc18e93ee427d94bafd2299a2518f/720p/mp4/file.mp4

. With more than just the name of our club at stake, will our club survive to make its first run?