The Undercover Streetfighter✔ {Under Editing}

Chapter 4

I felt the lights switch on all of a sudden, and my eyelids flickered open lazily.

When I woke up I noticed the bags under dad's eyes and I instantly knew that he hadn't got much sleep. There were a few cardboard boxes in my room and I could hear many people talking outside my room.

I gave him a questioning look and he just offered me a small smile in return. Even though that didn't really answer anything, I knew that my dad must have called them over.

I dragged myself out of bed and quickly tied my hair in a messy bun.

I ran all the way to Dylan's room and saw that everything was packed in boxes in his room too. He lay peacefully on his bed and looked really calm.

First, I shook him lightly and when he didn't get up, I screamed in his ear. He fell off his bed on the other side and held his ear tight, feigning hurt.

I laughed at his reaction and got him out of bed. Next, I went up to the living room and saw a muscular guy on his phone yet giving orders to the people around him. Few were carrying the sofa out to the truck and the others were carrying our rectangular mahogany table out.

Dad, his arms crossed over his chest, was giving them orders on what to take next and just gave us a small smile to show us that everything was in control.

I returned the gesture. "Dad! I'll be around! Tell me if you need any help!" I called out and he gave me a thumbs up in response.

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*AFTER AN HOUR*

"Finally!" my dad exclaimed as the workers took the last piece to the truck. Dylan and I were all ready to leave.

My dad was, even though weary and completely exhausted, ready to leave too.

We headed out and I took a last glimpse of the house. All of us shared a sad and gloomy expression before locking the door for the last time.

The thought leads me to think about mom. This is the last time...

I saw my motorbike being placed in the truck as well.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving my hands frantically trying to get the attention of those workers. How dare they put my Harley in that?

All the workers looked back at me.

"Leave it alone! I'm riding it!" I shouted.

"Ashley, you can't. You're riding in the car with us," he said in a firm voice. He gestured the workers to continue carrying it in.

"But-"

"Keep quiet and get in," he told us, completely cutting me off.

I sighed heavily and cursed under my breath in anger.

"No cursing!" he yelled as he got in the car.

I rolled my eyes at him.

Once we were settled in the car, dad looked back at the both of us with a sheepish expression.

Uh-oh. This can't be good.

"Guys, I hate to break it up to you but it takes sixteen hours to reach Chicago from Boston so make yourself comfortable at the back!"

"What?!" we exclaimed at the same time.

Dad closed one eye aware of what would come next.

"Dad! Sixteen hours?!" Dylan yelled, infuriated by the amount of time it was going to take us to reach there.