Prologue #2
Be strong. Be brave. Take the hard path. Crawl uphill on your hands and knees if you have to, but keep going, because I promise you the air is better at the top than it is down here in the gutter.
Until then, watch, learn, and remember what I taught you. And know that even though I didn’t tell you enough, I loved you. I loved you from the second you were placed in my arms.
You, Hazel, are and will always be the best thing I ever did.
Love,
Mom
P.S. Pack a bag with the things you can’t live without, then call the number at the bottom of this page. Ask for Rock. He’s expecting your call.
I press the letter to my chest and let the rest of my tears fall. I take a few deep breaths, and when I can breathe again, I wipe my eyes and place the letter back on the nightstand.
I walk back to my room and pull a bag from the closet.
I grab my birth certificate and look down at my father’s name.
For a second, I wonder if I should try to find him.
But if he wanted me, he would’ve come for me.
I shove the paper into my bag, along with everything else I might need.
Then I carefully add a few of my favorite photos.
I look around the trailer and fight back more tears. There’s no time for crying now. Taking a deep breath, I find my mom’s cell phone and head back to her room. I walk over to her nightstand and call the number on the bottom of the letter before folding it and adding it to my bag.
As I wait for someone to answer, I pick up the photo from the nightstand and stare at my mom’s smiling face. She’s looking at the camera with baby me in her lap, the locket she always wears clasped in my hand.
A gruff voice barks in my ear, jolting me out of the moment.
“Yeah?”
“Um... hi. Is this Rock?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I... um. I’m Hazel. My mom told me to call. She’s dead, and she said you’d help me,” I choke out.
There’s a pause, then I hear movement. “You Jenny’s girl?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, even though I’m nobody’s girl anymore.
“I’m on my way.”
He hangs up, leaving me staring at my phone in surprise.
After a moment, I slip it into the pocket of my sweatshirt. I look down and realize I’m still wearing my PJs, so I head to my room and pull on a pair of jeans and some boots. I grab a jacket and my stuffed bunny from the bed before going back to my mom.
For a second, I just stand there, not ready. I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead before I slip the locket from her neck and slide it over my head.
“I’ll be good, Mama. I promise. I love you.”
The words catch in my throat as the tears come faster, and I know I have to get out of here. Turning, I walk away from the only home I’ve known and rush out of the room, down the hallway, and out the front door, closing it behind me with a loud thud.
Gasping, I drop down on the bottom step with my bag at my feet and bury my face in my bunny.
I don’t know how long I stay like that before I hear a rumbling sound. Lifting my head, I watch as a motorcycle pulls up and stops a few feet away. The rider climbs off and walks toward me. The man is huge and kind of scary-looking.
“Hazel?”
I nod. “Are you Rock?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just stares, his eyes flicking to the bunny in my arms.
“Stand up and lemme get a look at you.”
I frown but do what he says and push myself to my feet.
“Turn.”
Slowly, I turn in a circle, feeling my skin prickle as I do.
“Those are some legs you got there,” he finally says. “Lose the rabbit.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the look on his face tells me it’d be pointless. So I shove the bunny in my bag before he can take it from me.
“From now on, you’ll go by Legs. If anyone asks, you’re eighteen. You forget that, and I’ll toss you out on the streets myself. Do you get me?”
“I get you,” I whisper.
“Grab your bag and get on the bike.”
“What about my mom?”
“I’ll take care of it. Now, get on the bike.”
Nodding, I grab my bag and sling it on crossbody, tightening the strap as I walk over to his bike on shaky legs. I wait for him to get on first. Then I climb on behind him and grip the side of his leather vest. That’s when I notice the logo on the back.
“What’s the Chaos Demons?”
“My MC,” he says over his shoulder. “And your new home. You’ll be one of the club girls. Keep your head down and do whatever the brothers tell you to do.”
“Brothers?”
“Anyone wearing one of these,” he says, pointing to the Chaos Demons logo on his vest. “You do that, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“Why? What’s in it for you?”
He looks back at me, smirking. “Been a long time since I had a cherry. Never did forget the flavor, though.”
I frown, not understanding. I can’t ask him what he means, though, because he starts the engine—my stomach knots as the bike rumbles beneath us, and I tighten my hold on his vest—then he pulls away from the curb.
A day later, I found out exactly what he meant.
By the end of the month, I finally understood the lessons my mother had taught me. But it would be years before I reached the crossroads she warned me about.