Prologue
6 Years ago
Cleo Mulroney was curled up on her bed with her back pressed against the metal headboard, eyeing the door. The shouting had ended. Or had it stopped momentarily for a brief hiatus? Either was possible. It had been almost an hour since she’d heard a peep. A reasonable length of time for both her mother and stepfather to pass out.But?She’d learned over the years that sometimes there was a lull. A calm before the real storm.
This was no way to live, but it was all she knew. In a sense, she’d been trained to expect this type of life, never having an alternative option presented to her. Or maybe she had and missed it. For a long time leading up to her high school graduation, she’d envisioned a different life. At eighteen she’d be an adult, and with that came freedom. Cleo had allowed herself to buy into that pipe dream for a long time. Until reality hit and looked so very different.
Two years of working two menial jobs, and she didn’t have much to show for it. After paying her mother rent, and living expenses just to get by, the prospect of leaving realistically dwindled. Cleo had nowhere to go, no one to help her, and no plan that seemed feasible.Leaving under those circumstances would take courage, independence, and confidence. Three things she lacked. If she dug deep into her psyche, she’d probably realize fear controlled her actions.Because sometimes the devil you know is less scary than one you don’t.It was that mentality that kept her planted and forced to endure her living hell. Some would call it cowardice. Others would call it survival.
There were days, though. The really bad ones where she’d considered taking a leap of faith, leaving in the middle of the night, and hoping for the best.
Hope.Cleo tightened her hold over her legs and scoffed. She’d been hoping for way too long. Maybe her whole life, and not much had changed.
Except this.
The screen of her phone illuminated in the dark.Restricted number.Most people would be tempted to ignore it. Not Cleo. She knew exactly who it was. For the first time in days, she smiled. And instantly regretted it. She cupped her mouth, fighting against the sharp burn coming from her bottom lip. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and glanced down at her palm. She’d felt the scab rip open a little too late. She licked her lip, tasting the bite of copper, and wiped her hand on her pants, cleaning off the blood. It had already begun to heal, and this would set it back. But she had no regrets giving in to her emotions.
He’s worth it.
These calls were everything to Cleo. They consistently started two days after her eighteenth birthday. Before that they were scattered, every nine months, sometimes longer. Cleo understood it. Her brother, Knox, had his own life. He’d been gone long before her tenth birthday, and she didn’t really have many memories of him. Small snippets from her childhood but nothing more to hold onto. Her mother didn’t have any pictures, and she rarely spoke of him. When she did, it was derogatory rhetoric.Just like his fucking father.
Her mom never went into detail about what she meant, soCleo had no clue. She’d been born after Knox’s father had left. She didn’t know him.Heck, I don’t even know my own father.He too left before Cleo could form any tangible memory. It was interesting walking by strangers and wondering if she’d just passed her dad. She’d asked about him a few times, but it only angered her mother. So she stopped asking. In a call with her brother, she’d once mentioned her dad. Knox had confirmed her suspicions in one sentence.
He’s not worth remembering.
Cleo grabbed her phone and listened to the recording. It was the same every time, and she felt a bubbling excitement swirl in her belly. As pitiful as it may have sounded, she lived for these phone calls. In a sense, they were an escape. She got to portray her life very differently from the reality of it.
“Yes!” Her response was always overzealous, and she heard his soft chuckle in the background on the other end.
“How’s it going?” Knox asked in his deep, gruff voice.
It had been years since she’d seen him. Ten, maybe? He’d left at eighteen, still a kid in a sense. It was the last time she’d seen him. After he’d left home, Knox never came back. It was hard to envision him as an adult, but she tried, basing her vision of him off his voice. He’d had longer hair that had always looked as though it was in need of a fresh cut. Similar hair color as her own since they both favored their mother. She was sure he’d have a beard, but if not, a thick scruff. He’d talked about his tattoos. A complete sleeve and his entire back were covered, but he hadn’t gone into any detail of the designs. Cleo pictured lots of skulls, crossbones, and dragons breathing fire. It suited his lifestyle of being a biker. The last time they spoke, Knox talked about getting the MC’s insignia on his chest when he got enough money together.
“It’s going great.” She picked at the hole in her comforter, cursing her lie. Cleo always made a point of putting up a good front when it came to their calls. Knox had enough to worry aboutwithout adding her own troubles. Considering his incarceration, hers were small by comparison.
“How are you?”
Knox sighed. “Hanging in.”
She licked her wounded lip, keeping it moist so she could give in to her smile once again.
“Have you started a countdown calendar yet?”
Cleo glanced over at the tapestry hanging on the wall of her bedroom. Last time he’d called and mentioned his release date, she’d made an elaborate calendar on construction paper that she kept hidden under the decor. It had become the highlight of her daily routine to cross out each day.
“No.” Knox chuckled, and she pressed the receiver closer to her ear. His laugh was infectious and genuine. She imagined a wide smile and his nose scrunching, similar to how she looked when amused. “I keep that all in my head. Got something like eleven months.”
Less!
“Three hundred and two days,” Cleo blurted.
Knox laughed, and she imagined him shaking his head. He was the only person in the world who seemed entertained by anything she said.
“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out?”
There was a long pause. It was understandable. Three years without seeing the outside world was a long time. People didn’t fully appreciate their freedom until it was taken away.
“Head home.”
