Biker Boy Gunnar ✔️

Seventeen

Reign POV

       Immediately I began squeezing my eyes shut and covering my head with my arms. The sound of an engine reviving and tires squealing made me look up just in time to see the car take off like the speed of lightening. Jensen was moving about in an attempt to look for the gun Bash had stashed in his car. Bash was shouting orders at Jensen, my hearing was going in an out as I tried to come to terms with what was going on right now.

"Charlie take the wheel!" Bash yelled as he rolled the window down and stepped on the gas.

      We caught up to them quickly do to Charlie and Bash teamwork. Bash had rolled a black mask onto his face, when I looked over at Jensen he already had his mask on and was currently taking the safety off his gun. Through the ski mask I could see Jensen eyes, they were ice cold and filled with determination as he partially slipped out the window with the gun aimed at his target. Within a second rounds of bullets began flying from their guns.

Charlie jerked the wheel to the right successfully ramming the front end of our bumper to the back end of their truck.

"Damn it!" I heard Bash yell as he and Jensen slid into the car at the same time the tires on our car began screeching and squealing. Our car swerved to the right causing our car to collide with a tree.

The engine shut off, my body jerked forward colliding with the driver seat. The scent of petrol oil filled my sensitive nose, a small groan slipped past my lip as I scrunched my nose in an attempt to dull the horrid scent.

"Everybody ok?" Bash asked from the front seat.

"I'm good." Charlie replied.

"Same." Jensen retorted as he rolled the ski mask off his face.

"I'm good." I replied as I rubbed the back of my neck.

       The car we had been chasing suddenly began reversing their car, before Bash and Jensen could reload their weapons our opponents opened their car door and dropped something out of it before quickly leaving the scene.

"What the hell?" Bash stated as he got out the car to examine what had been dropped.

     The thing that had been dropped out of the car was large. It was covered in a long black bag with a zipper on the front. Bash grabbed his gloves from his pocket and slipped them on.

"Charlie call Jett." Bash replied with an ice cold tone.

Why did he want to call Jett? He only ever requested Jett presence when something horrid has happened. Normally someone has to be dead—wait, could it be true—was someone dead? I have only seen black bags with zippers on them on my favorite crime show Criminal Minds. Whenever one of the team members look inside the bag they're normally at a morgue analyzing a dead body. Suddenly I didn't feel so good, a wave of vile chucks slithered up my throat.

I tried to hold my Alfredo down but once Bash unzipped the bag I could no longer hold it in. I flung the door opened and quickly dashed behind the car to release the chunks of bitter throw up. My body heaved as the imagine of the guy burned itself into my brain.

      The skin on his face had been peeled away and stuffed into his mouth. His eyeballs were pulled out of their sockets and carefully placed on his chest so they could stare at him. He no longer had ears—my stomach contacted once again emptying its contents onto the pavement. The sound of squealing tires came heading towards us.