“I told him to leave,” he states. “So, I’m glad you actually read my note instead of trashing it like I thought you would.”

I dip my head and stare at the beer in my hand. “You said something about a deal?”

He orders a beer for himself and turns to me. “I need your help.”

I don’t respond. I don’t know how. I was already fucked, but whatever he’s offering isn’t going to save me. It’s going to save him.

He says my name and then pauses for a long moment. “It involves you.”

I turn to him. “What the fuck are you talking about, Jax?”

Running a hand through his hair, he takes a sip of the beer just handed to him. “This stays in the vault. You got it?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“I’m working on a case. It’s an underground fighting organization, but we suspect it’s more.”

“More?”

“We think it’s a cover for a drug ring.”

“So where do I come in?”

“I need you to fight.”

“I don’t fight.”

“Pretty sure that guy you just put in the hospital would say otherwise.” He blows out a heavy breath. “What the hell did he say to get you so amped?”

My jaw clenches. My fingers curl, gripping the beer tighter. “He said the war was fake and that we were fighting for a cause that didn’t exist.” I search his face, waiting for him to tell me how stupid I am, but it never comes. I add, “I fought so he could wake up every day and not be afraid to leave his fucking house and he thinks—”

“You should’ve killed him.”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Deal?”

I have no real information on what the hell the deal entails, but that isn’t important. What is important is why. “Why?”

Instantly, his eyes turn to stone. “They’re selling shit to kids. And when I say shit, I mean shit. It’s like ecstasy on crack or vice versa.”

“And how does that involve me?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

“Because, Ky, I think it’s the same shit that killed Steve.”

KY

Age Fourteen

“Every damn day,” I mumbled to myself. I dropped my backpack and slowly walked over to the playground. Every day I’d walk past and see the same thing going on—two kids beating the shit out of someone. Normally, I’d walk away and ignore it.

Yet there I was—a few steps away from them—and I’d had enough of their crap.

“We know you have money, you little shit!” one of them yelled.

“I don’t!” their victim squealed.

Every.

Damn.

Day.

“Give it to us, you pussy!”

One of them kicked the kid already on the ground. It must have been pretty hard because he yelped and shouted, “Here! Just take it!”

I crossed my arms and pushed my chest out. “Hey! Leave him alone!”

Almost in sync, the two bullies turned around; eyes already narrowed.

“Stay out of it, Parker. This has nothing to do with you!”

I recognized the tormentors from school. They were twins, two years older than me; Harry and Barry Berry. Clearly their parents were just as stupid as their spawn.

The poor, beaten kid slowly came to his feet, patting down his clothes as he did. He had a busted lip and a cut on his cheek. “It’s okay, Ky, just go home.”

“Yeah, Ky, just go home!” Barry mocked.

I eyed him and his brother, wondering if I could take them both. Luckily for me, my growth spurt hit at twelve. I was tall, but not that built. Not that it mattered. I’d grown up around this shit my entire life.

I took a step forward. “No.”

“What are you gonna do? Fight both of us?”

The beaten kid got between us, becoming my shield like he could somehow protect me. He couldn’t even protect himself.

“Just stop,” he said to me. Then to the others, “I gave you my money. You can leave now.”

“No,” I cut in. “Give him back his money!”

Barry stepped forward, his stance matching mine. “Or what, Parker?”

His fist was halfway to my face before I reacted by ducking and charging his stomach. The immediate impact on my shoulder made me want to scream out in pain, but I didn’t let it show. I didn’t even show it when Harry came at me while Barry and I were on the ground. He started to bend over to get me off his brother, but I kicked the back of his knee hard enough that it gave out. Their victim screamed and charged over to Harry, grabbing a backpack on his way and started hitting him with it. I got two punches to Barry’s gut before I had a chance to look at Harry, now cursing and lying on the ground, trying to defend each consecutive hit of the backpack.

With my fists balled into Barry’s collar, I seethed, “Give him his money back, and while you’re at it, give him all of yours!”

Harry groaned next to me.

“You too, asshole!”

“Fine!” Barry said, his hand already in his pocket.

Harry cursed again. “Okay!” he yelled. “Just get this psycho off me.”

I tried to contain my laugh as I watched the kid get one more hit in before letting out a maniacal laugh.

Standing up, I took the money they were more than willing to hand me. They ran away as soon as the opportunity presented itself.