Prologue
LYSSA
I'm sitting at the table staring at my bills. I have a half bottle of vodka in one hand and a revolver in the other.
I can't do anything right.
There's one bullet in the barrel and I'm rolling it around before I snap it shut. I've done this five times already, sooner rather than later I'm going to die.
Or will I fuck that up, too?
One gulp of vodka. One pull of the trigger.
One gulp of vodka. One pull of the trigger.
I can't even get death right. I think back to six months ago when my life was perfect, and I knew what I wanted.
I've let men control me for too long. So I'm making the choice to die. I just thought it would be easier than this.
One gulp of vodka. One... There's a knock at the door.
"Fuck off," I yell, rolling the barrel once more time before snapping it shut.
"So help me God, Lyssa, if you don't open this door I am going to kick it in,” Brady—my brother—snarls. The man who wants to save my life. I love him. But right now I need him to fuck right off.
"Brady, please just fuck off and leave me here." The tears are now flowing down my face. "Please," I plead.
One shot of vodka. One pull of the trigger.
One shot of vodka. One...
Brady kicks the door in and I turn just as I pull the trigger. The gun goes off, but it doesn't hit me, it lodges in the wall. "What the fuck, Brady? I can't even kill myself in peace."
Brady rushes over to me, a couple of his MC brothers run in as soon as they hear the gunshot. They look after each other. I wish I had that relationship with someone, but everyone who shows any interest in me is just after one thing. Well, maybe two. My money and my body.
Brady falls to his knees in front of me and takes the gun out of my hand. He hands it to Tank, his VP and best friend.
Tank stares at me. "What the fuck, Lyssa? You know that we can help you with anything, why are you trying to find the easy way out?" Tank has always been broody. I’m not sure what to make of him, but I can’t stop looking at him. He’s grown since I last saw him.
Brady stands and turns to Tank. "You need to back off right now. Lyssa needs help, not criticism, Tank."
Tank puts his hands up in the air and takes a step back with the gun in one hand. I look at him and I have to quickly look away. I hate that he saw me this vulnerable. I hate that any of them saw me like this.
Looking at Brady, I begin to sob. He takes me in his arms and carries me out of my apartment.
"I'll help you, Lyssa. We all will."
"Maybe I don't want help, Brady. Did you think about that?"
"Babe," Tank says as he walks behind us. "You'll get our help whether you want it or not."
I stare at him. "Babe?" I laugh.
"Well, you don't have a dick, do you?" Tank winks at me and I turn away.
"Tank, shut the fuck up. Leave her alone. She needs our help, and she's going to get it. If you don't want in on that, then shut the fuck up and leave." Brady helps me to sit on the back of his bike.
"Hold tight, Lyssa," Brady says as his bike rumbles to life. "When we get to the clubhouse, I'll get you fixed up with a room, and then we need to talk. I want to know what made you want to kill yourself."
