Goodbye, my mate
Not with Darren.
"Hold on to me," he barked, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. I obeyed, arms snaking around his waist, fingers digging into the leather of his jacket. My chest pressed against his back, and I twisted my head to glare at the truck. It lunged, a predator snapping at our heels, tires screeching as it mirrored our every move. The Harley drifted, sleek and feral, sliding through the streets like a shadow on water, while the truck thundered after us, relentless, clumsy, a brute force of metal and rage.
Bab Populer