TheBlackPancake

 He remembered the thrill. Blood pumping through hole-riddled veins at the sound of hurried footfalls and angry voices demanding his immediate surrender. Trevor Phillips had never been a man to lose or allow himself to be caught by the enemy, nor was he known for leaving a man behind, especially not his best friend. The four bullet wounds dotting his left arm, right shin and right forearm wasn’t enough to make Trevor release Michael’s hand. They continued to bolt down the dirt road leading to a denser part of the forest area and intended to make their escape within the trees and mossy undergrowth. boots frantically moving, crushin