PROLOGUE

Life isn’t easy when you have no one. Everything you do, you have to do alone. There’s no one to lean on. There’s one to help you out when you’re in trouble. There’s no one to cry with, and no one to share your laughter. You get tough, not because you want to, but because you have to. Who am I to complain though? What is it they say? Someone always has it harder than you? It’s true. It’s always true. No matter how bad you have it, someone out there has it worse. Is that a comforting thought? Hell no, but it’s a fact, and sometimes fact is all you need.

My family…what can I say? Not a great bunch. My father is some big-ass biker, and he hasn’t seen me since I was four. Yes, four. My other was some pathetic one-night stand of his, at least, that’s what I assumed she was because I couldn’t see why any man in his right mind would knock her up willingly. She certainly was not mother of the Year; she drank a lot as I was growing up and is now dead because of a drug overdose. I’m twenty-one, and while that’s certainly old enough to live alone, it’s not old enough to survive when you have your mother’s debts to clean up, and a crazy pimp after you. I have twenty dollars in my account, that’s enough to buy myself a McDonald’s meal two nights in a row.

I’m not a bitter person; well, I certainly try not to be. I don’t want to walk around with a bitter expression and a bad attitude because my life isn’t a picture of happiness. No, I won’t do that, because I’m a strong, determined girl. A strong, determined girl sitting on a train that’s taking me to a father I don’t remember, because he’s all I have left. He’s also the president of a huge MC club. I imagine he’s not overly happy to see me; he certainly didn’t sound happy when he found out my mother died. I hate being the child that isn’t wanted. It’s a shitty feeling to have no one in the world that wants to love you.

Not one, single person.

CHAPTER 1

PAST

She won’t wake up, and I know right way that this was a mistake. It was a huge mistake. I grip her shoulders, wrapping my fingers around her arms and shaking. She doesn’t move. God, no, this can’t be happening. Not now, not here. I shake her again, but her head flops to the side. She has a grey tinge to her skin that I’m sure wasn’t there a moment ago. I swallow, feeling the sting of bile as it rises up my throat. I don’t cry. My tears are now lodged into a place I can’t get to. I stare down at her lifeless body, and I know it’s the end for her. Guilt rises in my chest as I force myself to my feet.

I can’t be here. I have to get out. I’ll call the police, let them know it was a drug overdose. Then I’ll be out of here for good. I won’t look back. I stare down at the woman that brought me into this world, and I feel nothing. I don’t even feel angry that I never got to tell her what I thought about the life she gave me. I don’t feel sad that she’s no longer around. I don’t even feel happy that I don’t ever have to live under her shadow again. No, the only thing I feel is a deep emptiness that goes right into my very core and lodges itself there, blocking out any other feelings that may try to rise.

I turn, my fingers tremble as I lift her cell phone and hit the three numbers that will connect me to an ambulance - 911. When they answer, I simply tell them what I know as I stare down at my mother’s lifeless form. She’s going blue now, an ugly shade of blue that is making my stomach turn. I hang up the phone when the operator tells me to ‘hold on, sit tight, we’ll be there soon’. I’m sure they will be here soon, to take my mother to a cold place where I know she belongs. They’ll be here to free her of her life, but me…I won’t be. I won’t be here, because now I’m going to free myself of my life, in the only way I know how.

By running.

PRESENT

I tuck my dark brown hair behind my ears, and lift my sunglasses to stare at the large three-story house, surrounded by barbed wire, that’s situated right on the side of the highway. This is the address I was given. Apparently, this is where my father spends most of his time. I see a lineup of shiny Harley Davidson’s out the front, all sitting together like they’ve been perfectly placed. I can hear music booming from the large, red-brick home that looks like it’s seen better days. Is that a smashed window? This should be fun. I walk to the gate and rattle it – padlocked – of course it is. I look to my left and see a bundle of old stacked pallets. Grinning, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and saunter over.

When I reach the pallets, I climb on top of them and grip the fence with one hand, using the pole beside it to hoist myself over. I end up in the dust, on my ass, but completely proud of my breaking and entering efforts. After I pull myself to my feet, and dust off the light brown specks of dirt covering my jeans, I walk towards the large house. When I get to the oversized front door, I knock loudly, but nobody answers. Giving up on the house, I walk around the side until I find an old shed that voices are trailing out of. When I get close enough, I see a small door to the left. Taking a deep breath, I walk over and grip the metal handle, opening it.

When I step inside, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to my surroundings. When I am able to focus more clearly, I turn my gaze to four men sitting around a wooden table. Two are smoking, all are drinking beer. One of the men stands as soon as he lays eyes on me, and I realize as he begins walking towards me, that he’s my father. I know because I see myself in his face, and I quickly realize where I got my dark brown hair and sky blue eyes. He’s tall and muscular. I’m tiny and petite – that seems to be the only difference between us.  His arms are covered in tattoos and his dark hair is tied in a long braid that hangs over his shoulder.  He also has a well-groomed goatee covering his top lip and his mouth.