Page 3 of Reign

My insides are polluted by the roar of their bikes, which fills me with terror. Gritting my teeth from screaming, I keep going. I’m almost to the ground when there’s an earth-shattering bang inside the house that rattles the pipe I cling to. And then, “Where the fuck is she?!”

In my panic, I fall the rest of the way, straight into a pile of weeds. Having been stung by their thistles, I cry out in more pain. Rolling off the floor, I’m covered in scratches and minor cuts, but nothing worse than my arm.

I fight through the jungle to get to the gate with difficulty. There’s yelling behind me, but I don’t look back as I run down the street. My feet pound unforgivably into the concrete. I’m not thinking about where I’m going, but there’s no way I’m stopping to figure it out.

Running out onto the main road, I freeze when I spot Nicolas and the beefy bulk of Deuce hunting the street for me. They see me and floor it.

“Shit!” I run back the way I came as the beasts gain on me at high speed. This is what Milton said would happen, and I’m not going to make it. I’m not—

A hand grips my hoodie, and I scream, the fabric choking me as I’m picked up and plonked on a bike. I’m trapped against the handlebars, and I almost faint when the motorcycle accelerates.

“No!” I try flinging myself off, not caring if my skin scrapes off my bones when I hit the uneven tarmac. I’m not going back. I’d rather fucking die!

“Stop!” a voice growls as the bike wobbles. Reaching inside my pocket, I flick open the blade and drive it over my shoulder. There’s a yell behind me, and the bike rocks. I’d scream again if my heart didn’t jump to my throat.

I gasp in shock as I look back at the helmeted figure whose arms engulf me and see the brand on the biker’s breast pocket where the knife protrudes.

It’s an X.

“M-Milton?” The realization hits me like a freight train. How the hell did he get here?

Milton regains control of the bike and zips through minor roads and traffic. Though, it’s allowed Nicolas and Deuce to catch up. They’re on our tail, pulling guns out of their waistbands, realizing the bike I’m on isn’t one of theirs.

Angling my body, I wrap my arm around Milton’s waist as he pulls out his gun and fires the first shot. Something crashes behind us, but I squeeze my eyes shut, not daring to let go of the man who, against all odds, has once again saved my stupid life.

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