Prologue
TWENTY-SIX YEARS AGO
WRATH
Fire. The dancing amber light. I’ve always loved it. Dare walks up beside me, and I feel his fingers curl around my shoulder. He shakes me gently. He’s only six years older than me, but in this world, our world, six years can feel like a lifetime. Especially with all the shit we experience.
“I’m glad to have you in the family, Wrath.”
My road name. Wrath. It was given to me by Dare’s father, my president. I don’t like to talk about how or why he gave me that name, but it’s the name he gave me, and I wear it like a badge with fucking pride, even though I won’t talk about it.
“Me too.”
“You look like you could use a good fuck and a beer.”
He’s not wrong. I could use both, though I already know that after it’s done, I’ll feel empty.
I always do. I thought things would change after I was patched in, but it doesn’t.
It’s something inside of me that’s broken.
But I’m not sure I’ll ever try and figure it out, that would necessitate me going back to that place—to the past.
And it’s a no fucking thanks… ever.
Tearing my gaze from the fire, I look over to him before I respond. “That sounds fucking amazing.”
Together we leave, though I could stay here and watch the fire for hours. He turns and walks away, and following behind him, we continue until we reach our bikes. Dare doesn’t climb on.
Dare stops and turns his head, looking over to me before he speaks, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Heard there’s a party tonight.”
“Isn’t there always a party?” I ask.
He snorts, shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah. So, let’s get the fuck out of here and get laid.”
That’s exactly my sentiments. The air was starting to feel a bit heavy, and I’m ready to forget anything that may have attempted to seep into the front of my memory banks, because fuck that shit completely.
As soon as we pull up to the clubhouse, I know something is going down the moment I kill my engine. Then I see it. She’s there. Standing a few feet from the front door, a cigarette between her fingers.
She was pretty once. Beautiful even. But she’s not anymore. The drugs, the lifestyle, it’s twisted her face, ratted her hair, and left her body completely emaciated. She was once my protector in a world that was cruel was fuck to me.
“Fuck,” Dare hisses beside me.
He knows her, too, but that’s because they used to date.
She was once his old lady. Until she stole all his money, his muscle car, and took off with some other guy.
They found the car, stripped of anything that had monetary value, and left on the side of the road.
Dare restored it, of course, because it was a badass ride.
“Kaitlin,” I growl as I make my way toward her. She stops pacing, bringing the cigarette to her lips before she takes a final drag, then flicks it onto the ground.
She gives me a smile. Again, she was once beautiful, but it’s now. It makes me sad seeing her. Twenty-six years old and she’s barely alive, constantly chasing a high and nothing else. As much as I want to believe she could get clean and live a decent life, I don’t have high hopes.
“Hey, Coast, I need some money, just a little to get me by.”
Shaking my head, I lift my hand, running my fingers through my hair before I tug on the ends, my gaze flicking down to my shoes. I think about what to say to her. I haven’t given her a dime since she did what she did to Dare.
She put me in a really bad fucking spot and didn’t give a fuck about what could have happened to me.
“I don’t have anything to give you,” I say.
It’s not a lie.
None of my money is going to go towards killing her. She can do whatever the fuck she wants, but it’s not going to be on my dime, not anymore. She doesn’t give a fuck about what happens to anyone. Not as long as she can get high.
“Don’t you love me?” she whispers as she takes another step toward me.
I can feel Dare standing near me, but I can’t look away from my sister. Her skin is marked with red sores, and her teeth are beginning to rot from the Meth. It makes my heart ache. No. It fucking squeezes in pain.
“You know that I do, which is why I’m not giving you anything to kill yourself with.”
“I’m going to get help,” she lies.
“Leave him alone, Kaitlin,” Dare grinds out.
Her attention shifts from me to Dare, and then pauses there for a moment before it comes back to meet mine. Her eyes are practically bouncing, they’re moving back and forth so quickly. She’s so goddamn amped up.
“I just need another hit. I’m so alone,” she says, her words coming out in a whisper. “Please. I’m sick, Coast. I took it all for you.”
And there it is. The guilt. She’s blamed me for her addiction since the moment she started to spiral. Our past is shitty, and my older sister took a brunt of a lot of it for me, especially when I was little. But I’m not going to help her kill herself.
“No, Kaitlin. Not anymore.”
She throws her hands in the air, rushing closer to me, but I don’t move. I stand my ground, my feet planted as I continue to watch her, waiting to hear what she’s going to say in a failed attempt to manipulate me to give her money. She would fucking hate me for it, but she’s turned into our mother.
“You owe me, Coast, and if you won’t help me, then you won’t see me again. Not ever.”
Dare steps in, his hand reaches out, and he wraps his fingers around her wrist, tugging her away. “You aren’t welcome here anymore, Kaitlin. You’ve stolen from your brother, from me, and from the club. No more.”
She opens her mouth, not looking at Dare, but instead, focusing as much attention as she has the capability to do so on me. She opens her mouth to no doubt plead with me again, but she doesn’t get any words out. Dare tugs on her again. This time, he walks, practically dragging her behind him.
I don’t watch where they go. I walk into the clubhouse, heading straight for the bar. Dare is right. I need a fucking drink. And I ask the prospect, a position I held not long ago, to keep the drinks coming.
Shot after shot.
I don’t know how long I sit there, at the bar, but when Dare walks up beside me, I swing my head around to look over at him, and the room spins a bit. He frowns, lifting his hand. I feel his fingers curl around my shoulder again.
“It’s all good, I took care of it,” he states.
“Did you kill my sister?” I ask, though my words come out so slurred that I’m not sure he can even understand me.
He lifts his hand, motioning for the prospect to bring another shot glass and bottle of booze over. He takes a shot before he speaks. His words start to blend together, or maybe I’m starting to pass out, but before I do, I hear him say.
“I loved her once. Full on loved Kaitlin Riley.”
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