The Ryder

Chapter 4- Ryder

When I came back to a conscious state, I didn't open my eyes right away. Everything seemed too quiet to be in the shack still. I fell asleep hearing crickets and the rustle of the woods around me but now... nothing..

Even if it was daytime, I would still hear the outside world but I don't which tells me that someone found me...

I can feel my heartbeat start to rise, my palms sweat in my gloves. I felt suffocated suddenly. I tried to calm myself but my adrenaline with my fight or flight instincts were taking over.

I was about to jump up but then I heard footsteps from a distance. I stayed as still as possible and tried to focus on my blinded surroundings.

I have my gear still on by the weight I felt around my body, my helmet is still on which would explain why I felt suffocated. Limited airflow well sitting still, the downfall of a full-face helmet.

I hear the footsteps stop and a door clicks open.

"Nope still out." I hear an unfamiliar man's voice say in an amused tone. Then the door clicks shut and I hear him walk away.

At that moment I jump up and take in my surroundings. I was laying on a queen-sized bed in what looks like a hotel room, maybe? Mini fridge, bed, dresser, TV, an extra door that may lead to a bathroom. Tan walls, wood floor, and wooden furniture. Pretty basic. Framed pictures of motorcycles hung on the walls as the only decor.

Hmm, okay. That was surprising. Only place I've seen this similar setup was at big Motorcycle Clubs and not always the best kinds. I've only been in 1%ers clubs.... They aren't always the best kinds of bikers. Depends on the leader.

I took in the room once more before I grabbed my bag from the bed I was on and made my way to the door. I held my ear to the door to make sure I didn't hear anyone coming.

Once I felt secure, I quietly opened the door and peeked out. It was a long hallway with about 6 other doors and a staircase at the end of it. I looked around for cameras and saw none before I slipped out of the room, careful to not make a peep.

Over the past 5 years, Luke has been on the manhunt for me. 5 years, I've been able to sneak away and run every single time. I know this game of cat and mouse is only making him more excited but I rather hide for the rest of my life than go back to him and his twisted abuse he calls love.

After making it down to the bottom of the stairs unseen, I spot a sign that has arrows pointing to certain areas of this building. I see the word garage and instantly think about my bike.

If there are bike pictures framed all over, a garage, and the reeking smell of beer, cigarettes, and gas in the air, I know I'm in the main house of an M.C

I risk it and go in the direction of the garage. I'm not sure of what time it is but I was really hoping for early morning. Everyone passed out and I can slip away just fine.

To my luck though, as I was approaching the garage I heard some men speaking from inside. The large bay door was open and I was able to hide between the side of the garage and a tree, in the shadows well I listened in.

"No tracker Pres." One man's voice spoke.

"Well, when he dragged it, he ripped the oil pan off along with bending the rear brake" A second voice. "He's gonna have to order some parts before he can ride out."

"Did you check the saddle bags?" A third man spoke but it was authority, meaning, power. He had to be the leader or President of the club.

"Locked. Can't get in unless we brake em." The second man spoke again. "-but we didn't want to brake the guys stuff. s**t he got shot for crying out loud. Didn't want to add insult to injury."

"Good call." The third man spoke again, sending a shiver down my spine.

My shoulder started the throb at the thought of being shot. I slowly and quietly reached around to touch my shoulder. The dart still intact with my body. Luckily the fluid was out but it still hurts like a b***h when I touched it.

I bit my lip as a hiss came out of my mouth. I felt a tear stray down my face. I pulled my hand away. I'll deal with that later. Just don't touch it and I'll be good.

"I just checked on him right before we came out here and he was like out- out." The first guy spoke again. "Who and why do you think someone would have shot him with a tranq?"

I hear the silence linger between the men. None of them having a thought on the mystery person.

"Has anyone reported looking for someone around here recently?" The leader asked.

"I checked as soon as we got back and there hasn't been anyone for a few years. Nothing that matches his height atleast." The second guy spoke again. I just rolled my eyes. Of course, they thought I was a guy. Most motorcycle riders are but they did have to move me....

I glance down at myself... I look like a teenage boy going through a damn phase or something. Black combat boots, black jeans (that were infact men's pants, I rolled my eyes at that coincidence.), armoured leather jacket with my cut over it all... even my hair was tucked up in my helmet.... yeah no wonder they thought I was a man. Im all geared up and padded down.

"Sooo, what do we do Pres?" the first man speaks again.

"We wait till he wakes up, damnass." The second guy speaks.

I hear footsteps shuffling around. I squeeze myself even deeper into my hiding spot until my back hits either another tree or a building, I don't know but it was solid.

"He's already up." I hear a very deep voice behind me. I don't turn around, I don't wait. I just rush forward. A slim attempt to get away but I had to take it.

Another man stepped around the building and blocked my path. I knew there were three men in total. I know where two are, which means the third is close as plan B.

"Hey man, we just want to talk. Maybe help you fix your bike?" The tall man infront of me was voice number 2. He was tall with dirty blonde hair and a reddish-blonde beard that hung off his chin and covered around his mouth. Grey shirt with a leather cut over his torso. Jeans down to the Signature Harley leather boots.... His ass rides a bagger. I could bet on it. He has the whole image.

I didn't believe him. Not because guys who ride baggers are no good, no good men are everywhere- but it's because he's part of a MC that I don't know.

I don't know these men. I don't know how they treat outsiders and I don't know how they treat women. Im not proud of it but I have killed people in my pursuit to freedom. These men will be no different if they try to hurt me. I will not be hurt like that again.

I take a step back and feel the man had moved closer to me from behind. I wasn't touching him but his dominance radiated off of him, letting me know he was close again. I knew how to fight but he was a wall when I had backed into him previously. So the man infront of me seemed like a better target to surpass.