The Outcast MC - Reaper # 1

Chapter 8

It was in the parking lot of a small shopping center, just after I had bought a new novel, a Christmas romance that takes place in Quebec, that they fell on me. They didn't take a chance, they came in a group. Either they're all banging David, or they're afraid I'm hitting on them all. Either way, as soon as I stepped through the door, that the sudden grip on my head sent a jolt of pain through my body, disorienting me as I was forcefully thrown against the unforgiving cement trash can. The impact was harsh, the collision echoing with a swith each impact. The world spun around me, my vision momentarily blurred as my body absorbed the shock of the assault. They were all kicking me like they wanted to qualify for the soccer World Cup.

The force of their attack was overwhelming, fueled by a mix of aggression and fear.

I didn't react, it had to happen, it was part of the plan.

That hurt!

Amidst the chaos and the sounds of my own gasps and grunts, I caught glimpses of their faces, contorted with anger and a twisted sense of power. It was clear that they were driven by some misguided sense of ownership or insecurity, perhaps threatened by the mere possibility of someone encroaching upon their territory.

I tried to shield myself, to curl into a protective ball, but the onslaught continued, relentless and merciless.

The sound of approaching sirens pierced through the haze, a glimmer of hope in the midst of despair.

The fact that they kept hitting me even as I heard the approaching police sirens suggests that maybe some cops are on the MC's payroll. It was only when the first police car turned the corner that they stopped and calmly walked away to their car. The bookstore owner called 911 the moment he saw me collide with the trash bin; I like him.

The police officer, finally emerging from his car, approached me with a measured pace, his face betraying a hint of indifference. He asked how I was, his words lacking the empathy one might expect in such a situation. I struggled to find my voice amidst the pain, trying to piece together the events for him.

Gasping for breath, I managed to utter, "They... attacked me... out of nowhere."

The officer jotted down a few notes in his notepad, his gaze shifting from me to the surroundings. It was evident that he was taking his time, his nonchalant demeanor amplifying my frustration and sense of vulnerability.

"Can you describe them?" he asked, his tone devoid of urgency.

"They were a group of women. I... I don't know much else. They were here... when you arrived."

"There is nobody, they left!"

I painfully raised my head to be able to read his name.

Emerson.

Despite my condition, I manage to read the name on his badge. I'll take care of him too. But for now, I let myself go as the paramedics arrive; I'm going to be pampered. I don't have any broken bones, maybe just some cracked ribs, but I'll recover. I'll return to the MC as a conqueror and bring those bitches to their knees. But not right away, later.

Ah, here comes the ambulance.

The distant wailing of the ambulance grows louder, and soon paramedics arrive to assess my injuries. The officer simply goes back to his car, without going inside the bookstore or the other stores.

As I waited for the ambulance, pain radiating through my bruised body.

Despite my semi-conscious state, I catch a glimpse of the police officer rifling through my backpack, inspecting my documents, and opening my wallet. I can't help but suspect that a few bills may be missing when I eventually retrieve it.