PROLOGUE
Bloodhound
Five Years Ago…
My hands are steady as I adjust the carburetor on Porter's Harley, even as my mind drifts.
The garage at the club is quiet this late, just the occasional sound of a car passing on the main road and the distant glow of Morgantown University lights on the hill.
The work soothes me—simple, mechanical, and something I can fix with the right tools and enough patience.
Unlike other things in my life.
The phone in my pocket vibrates.
I ignore it, too focused on getting the idle just right.
It stops, then immediately starts again.
Persistence means trouble, dammit.
I wipe my hands on a rag and check the screen—unknown number.
I answer, voice gruff. "Yeah?"
"This Bloodhound?" A man's voice comes across, one I don’t recognize, and I can’t miss how nervous he is.
"Who's asking?"
"Look, man, I don't want no trouble with the club." His words rush together. "I'm just callin’ 'cause there's a chick here with your name and number in her phone. She's... fuck, she's not good. OD'd bad. Someone said you'd want to know before we call an ambulance."
My blood turns to ice. "Where?"
"That old company house on Maple, near Sabraton. Yellow one with the?—"
I hang up, already moving.
I know the place.
Used to be miners' housing back when Morgantown was a coal town.
Now it's just another trap house in a neighborhood the city's forgotten.
My Harley roars to life under me, a familiar extension of my body as I tear out of the compound.
The July air bites through my leather, but I barely feel it.
University Avenue is empty this time of night, especially with summer break emptying out the college bars.
I push the bike harder than I should, taking corners at speeds that would kill me if I miscalculated, but I don't care.
The Westover Bridge stretches across the Monongahela, its steel frame glowing dull orange in the streetlights.
Below, the river runs black, carrying away this town's secrets like it has for generations.
Once across, I cut through neighborhoods where houses sag with age and neglect.
The streets here are narrow, badly maintained, forgotten by the city council that spends all its money on campus improvements.
