Sitting at my desk, I mark papers. I teach biology and love it. It's not what my mother wanted me to pursue, but being in the medical field just wasn't for me. My mother was always gone when I was growing up taking care of other kids’ colds and cuts. I just don't want that for myself or when I might have my own children.

A headache starts to set in from the smell of the permanent marker. Sighing, I set the pen down and sit back in my desk chair. The room is empty, and the windows dark. What time is it? Pulling out my phone, I notice it’s already eight at night. I’ve been working later and later now that a work colleague who was the adjoining science teacher just up and left without notice last week. I got stuck grading her paperwork so now I’m behind.

---

“Hey, bitch. Who was the hot guy that showed up the other day?” Miss Louve asks, leaning in the doorway of my classroom. She’s so quiet I never hear her come in. She’s a math teacher, and the only other teacher I talk to a lot, but only at work. My work wife as she calls it.

Glancing her way, I look her over while trying to think of something to say about Zane. Her dirty brown hair is down and wavy, and she’s wearing black leggings with a red top today. She doesn’t normally dress up like a teacher, she’s harder around the edges. The thick eyeliner around her eyes might be the reason she looks so unapproachable.

“He’s… just a guy I grew up with,” I reply in a manner suggesting I don’t care much about Zane.

“Is he in a gang or something?” She scrunches her nose in a cute curious way, crossing her arms.

My eyes widen. I’m not allowed to talk about the club in any way. That’s a rule I learned quick growing up within the MC.

“Or something.” I give a tight smile and pick up my pen. Hopefully she sees I’m busy and ends this conversation.

“Huh…” She taps her nails on the metal frame before shutting the door behind her. Shaking my head, I exhale. That woman is always on the prowl it seems. Next, she’ll be asking me for Zane’s number. How awkward will that be?

Wrapping up my paperwork, I stuff them inside of my bag and grab my empty coffee cup. Stepping into the hall, it's quite as a graveyard. Lights flicker down the long corridor of black lockers with nobody in sight. I hate staying this late, it scares me. Locking my class door, I quickly head to the front doors of the school. My heels clicking against the tile and echoing through school. Finally outside, I make sure the door is latched, the wind blowing my hair all around my face as I try and tug the door shut. Lightning strikes in the sky threatening a storm, God knows we could use some rain. Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I head toward my dusty Jeep. I throw my stuff in the passenger seat and attempt to start it. It doesn’t turn over.

My brows pinch together, and I try again.

Nothing.

I slap the steering wheel.

“Really?” Why is everything going wrong today?

I bet if I was a doctor, I would have a car that works though. I roll my eyes at my internal thoughts. I’m my worst enemy sometimes.

Snatching my purse, I grasp my phone and call Bobby.

---

“Hey, everything okay?” Bobby answers, the sound of music loud in the background, telling me he’s at the club.

“My Jeep won’t start.” I sigh heavily.

“You at the school?”

“Yeah.” I rub my forehead frustrated.

“On my way. Stay in the Jeep!” He uses his dad voice on me and I can’t help but tilt my head to the side and laugh.

“It’s a school parking lot, what can happen?” I ask myself more than him. It was just days ago a car ran into a patio trying to kill us. I lock my doors with that thought.

“Just trust me, and do what I say.” He hangs up leaving my mind reeling. If anyone knows the dark better, it’s probably him. He is an outlawed biker.

I toss my phone in the seat next to me. It's so quiet I can hear my heart beat and my breathing is not as quiet as I thought. A shadow slices across the Jeep window and I hold my breath. I’m scared to look in that direction but to sit here and pretend that nothing was there is dangerous. My eyes slowly move to the ominous black that flashed along my window seconds ago. There is nothing there but a coldness so void of life goosebumps race along the back of my neck.

A hand suddenly slaps against my door, and I scream, nearly jumping into the passenger seat to get away.

“You need a ride?” Thad, the principal, stands next to my window without a care in the world that he just about made me piss myself.

Hand on my chest, I take a breath trying to calm my racing heart.

“Jesus, Thad!” I scream angrily. He stands there, hands now in his pockets as he looks around my Jeep nosily. "No, I have someone coming," I yell through the glass window. I don't open the door or roll it down. The hairs on my neck telling me to be cautious.

Thad stands there, looking at me a second longer than necessary. His sandy hair blowing with the wind, and lightning flashing in his eyes. My hand now around my collarbone, I swallow down the dry lump forming in the back of my throat. The awkwardness growing by the second.

“My boyfriend is on the way!” I lie, feeling uncomfortable by his intrusive stare. His eyes flick to mine and he gives a knowing smile. He knows I’m full of shit. I’ve never mentioned a boyfriend before.

“Okay, see you tomorrow.” He turns, casually walking away while whistling and twirling keys in his left hand.

Grabbing the steering wheel, I lower my head and expel the breath I was holding.

“Jesus he’s creepy.”

Lifting my head, I notice I’m the only vehicle in the parking lot. I don’t see Thad’s vehicle anywhere in the parking lot though. Which is odd.

Minutes tick by and my eyes are glued to where Thad went inside the school, making sure he doesn’t sneak up on me again. The night playing tricks on me and making me hear and see things that aren’t there. The light roar of a motor can be heard, and I turn in my seat, I sink with relief. Bobby’s truck headlights speeding down the school road.

Unlocking the door, I slide out on shaky legs.

Bobby jumps out of the driver side, his leather boots stomping into the loose gravel, his eyes sweeping across the parking lot as if he’s looking for someone. His blue eyes hit mine and it’s as if a mask of something lighter sets into place. His shaggy blond hair blowing against his face.

I’m so relieved to see him.

The passenger door of the truck clicks open and a man with caramel colored skin and just enough hair to begin a small curl gets out of the truck. He looks familiar.

“Let’s see what we got, hmm?” Bobby mutters.

He kisses my cheek and leans into my car, the sound of the motor trying to turn as he attempts to start it. Nothing.

"It's done this before, but I can usually get it to start," I inform him. He bites his lip, looking at the gauges.

“Did you leave a light or radio on by mistake?”

“No.” Not that I can think of anyway.

“Hmm. Okay. Saint, try and jump it!” he yells to the truck parked in front of me.

Saint leans into the back of the truck, wrestling some wires before pulling jumper cables free.

Saint. That’s why I know him. I’ve seen him hang around Zane growing up, but never really talked to him.

Unlatching my hood, he hooks it up to Bobby’s truck, and we stand there waiting for it to transfer enough juice to my battery.

“Everything okay while you waited?” Bobby makes small talk. Lips tight I nod, not wanting to tell him how the principal gives me the creeps. How everything has me jumping lately. He’ll make me stay at the club.

Bobby rubs his hands together and leans inside my Jeep to turn the key. It sputters and kicks before finally starting.

“You did it!” I smile, but Bobby isn’t smiling.

“Let’s take it to the club, test the battery.” He looks at the Jeep with a curious eye.

I really just want to go home, but the Jeep has been acting up.

"Yeah sure," I reluctantly give in. Next time the Jeep does this, I may not be able to get ahold of someone.

"Saint," Bobby calls. Saint walks around the front of the Jeep and lifts his chin at Bobby. He's shorter than Zane, but his arms and chest are pretty built. He's a prospect too from the looks of his patch.

“Drive her Jeep back to the club.”

Saint nods and gets in. He doesn’t even ask any questions. It’s hard to believe that Zane would do the same being a prospect too.

"Come on." Bobby presses his hand on my back leading me back to his truck.

Upon climbing in the cab, it smells of leather and not from the seats. It’s from the leather vests they wear. I’ve come to love that smell. I can sniff it out anywhere.

"How is the school?" Bobby asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

"Good. Feels like I never left," I respond, looking out the window. Bobby goes on about how he can't believe I'm a teacher, and on and on how my mom has to be pregnant. But all I can think about is will Zane be at the club when we get there.

Ever since I saw him days ago, I can't get him off my mind. I'm curious what he's doing, how he's doing it, and who he is with. Will it be like old times with all of us brats outside gossiping and drinking? Still determined that there is nothing between us and we are casual friends even though we all look at each other with a closer eye.

“You okay?” Bobby’s voice cuts through my thoughts and my head snaps in his direction.

“Yeah, fine!” I answer a little too quickly, earning me an awkward eye. “Just a long day.” I wave it off to be no big deal.

Not wanting to talk about it, I lean forward and turn the radio on.

“Drops of Jupiter” by Train plays. My eyes widen, and my heart picks up its pace. My nostrils flaring as the lyrics morph into something more personal.

Zane sang this to me the day before everything went to shit.

---

Watching Piper skinny dip in the ocean, a huge wave swipes up and causes her to face plant right into the sand. I laugh, losing my breath and I catch a glimpse of Zane looking at me across the fire burning brightly between us. We keep locking eyes like this and it makes my heart stop every time. His green eyes hooded and determined lately. I don't know what it means, if anything.

Piper spits and wipes at her face, using the ocean to clean herself off. Delilah laughs and tosses more muddy sand at her.

Zane casually scoots up next to me and uses a stick to poke the fire. My teeth slide over my bottom lip and I nervously turn the radio up sitting next to us. "Drops of Jupiter" By Train sings to us.

Zane begins to sing the lyrics and I can’t help but stare at him. He’s so quiet and angry all the time, to hear him actually sing is like watching the king of the jungle purr. He flicks his eyes at me and leans over, the smell of his sweat and cologne making me smile bigger. He’s so close and in my space my entire body feels warm.

“I absolutely love it when you smile,” he rasps into my ear, the warmth of his breath sticking to my skin. The deepness of his voice roots itself in my soul and I want nothing more than him to keep singing to me. The way he makes me feel as if nothing can break through the barrier of trust we have, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

---

Bobby turns into the club drive and I snap out of my memory. The song on the radio over. There are bikes everywhere, and a couple of trash cans on fire.

“There’s a party?” The pitch in my voice can’t be suppressed. Shouldn’t everyone be on lockdown with the threat from the Lost Wolves?

“Not really, just celebrating how much we auctioned the bike we built for autism. We brought in twenty thousand!” Bobby is proud.

I want to smile, I want to be happy for them but I can’t. I haven’t been to a club party since the drive-by.

“Shouldn’t you guys be on the lookout or something?” Great, now I sound like my mother.

Bobby scratches his chin, a perplexed look fixing his face. “About that. We haven’t said anything to the club about it. Don’t you say shit to anyone either. Not until we know this isn’t some bull shit.”

Swallowing hard I fight the unease creeping up my throat. I don’t like keeping important things from people. I’m terrible at it.

“Come on, let's look at your Jeep and you can get going.” He puts the truck in park and shuts down the engine.

---

Getting out of the truck my eyes sweep around the sea of bodies that are swarming in and out of the club. Women are wearing leather chaps and short shorts, some with leather vests, and leather boots. I almost forgot how confident female hang arounds can be. I pull my jean jacket a little more snug, I look like a virgin at a frat party with my work clothes on. Not that I dress much different not going to school.

Saint pulls into the driveway, my headlights bouncing all over everyone’s face as he pulls my Jeep into one of the garage bays. I stand close by, leaning against the metal frame of the shop and watch. Music pounds from the club, smoke rolling out from the opened door as if the gates of Hell are on fire. It sounds like a good time, I just get too anxious when I’m surrounded by so many people. I feel like I can’t breathe, and I’m constantly nervous that something is going to happen and we won’t hear it. Like bullets hitting the club.

I know Zane is in there though. I can feel it. My brows suddenly pinch together, angry I keep thinking of him. We’re just friends. We can’t be anything more. He made that clear. Why can’t I move on?

A big drunk burly man stumbles my way, trying to wave at someone behind me. Looking over my shoulder to see who he's yelling at, he suddenly knocks into me and cold beer runs down my dress. I gasp, and the man freezes in a stupor as he stares at the liquid dripping off me. Bobby hits his head on the hood of my Jeep trying to lift his head and see what the fuss is about.

“What happened what’s wrong?” Saint is by my side in seconds but it doesn't take him long to figure out what happened with my back hunched over and my dropped jaw, my chest drenched. Suds tickle my breast, and my fingers drip with drops of smelly beer.

“You fucking idiot!” Bobby grabs the guy by the shirt, his teeth gritting with anger. “Get the fuck out of here!” Bobby shoves the guy and kicks him in the ass to get a move on. He turns back to me, resting his hands on my shoulders.

“Shit, you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just surprised me is all.” I fling my fingers free of droplets.

"Go inside and clean up, your battery is shit and I'm swapping it out. I'll be done by the time you get out." He juts his head to the clubhouse, and I glance in its direction like it’s a haunted house.

I really don’t want to go in there, but I don’t want my Jeep soaked with cheap beer either. Plus, what if I get pulled over?

“Come on, I’ll take you.” Saint’s charismatic voice wraps around me. His soothing brown eyes telling me he will protect me.

“Thank you.” I mask a smile and follow him through the rowdy crowd. Everyone nearly throws themselves out of the way as he walks forward. It’s the leather cut, the patch of a skull being crushed labeling him as one of the Devils. It’s crazy how much respect it has.

Once inside the club the music is so loud, I can feel the bass pumping in my chest. Girls are making out on the bar for attention, people are doing drugs without a care of what tomorrow brings, and it’s all so hard to look away from. It’s like a whole other world in here. It always has been.

People bump into me, and girls scream as a naked man playfully chases them with a whip.

Instantly the hairs on the back of my neck stand, and my feet stop moving as an energy latches on to me like a heavy weight. Saint disappears into the crowd without me and I turn on my heel to inspect what has me off. My eyes shoot through the crowd as if I’m drawn to something uncontrollably and land on Zane sitting on a couch. He’s leaning forward with his arms hanging over his knees, and his eyes hooked right onto me. A joint dangles from his mouth and girls sit on the back of the couch behind him as if he’s a Greek god. He owns the room without even trying. His presence drawing in every female within miles, even I want to sit at the foot of his throne and stare into mystical eyes that tell the tales of the underworld. The way he makes me feel so small in such a big crowd makes me feel small in comparison.

This is what I’m talking about. This tense connection with just a silent stare is what makes me feel something for Zane. We’ve never discussed it though. Does he still feel this?

“Shit, there you are!” Saint hollers in my ear making me jolt with surprise. Zane takes the joint from his mouth, smoke bellowing from his nose. A tense energy washing across his thick tattooed frame. I glance at Saint and realize Zane must be jealous of him being so close to me.

Wanting to test that theory, I smile and rest my hand on Saint’s shoulder. He’s hard to the touch but does nothing for me from the simple contact.

"Oh hey! Yeah, the crowd just kind of took me over!" I bat my lashes at him and put on the kind of a smile that Piper would charm a guy with. Pouty lips, just barely parted, and slight nibble to the bottom lip.

He laughs, his tongue licking his bottom lip like he might be interested.

“You good?” His eyes lower to mine.

“Yeah, can you show me the bathroom?” I know where it is, but why not make Zane think Saint is taking me there?

Saint’s eyes light up and he nods. Turning around, he grabs my hand and leads me down the hall to the bathroom. His fingers are soft, but his palm rough.

Just as my free hand hits the knob a boot darts in front of the door blocking me from entering.

"Your pops done warned everyone to stay away from you, so don't be trying to play mind games with me. This club is the only thing I got going for me."

My eyes widen, surprised that Saint is pointing out my bullshit, and standing up for himself. He has balls.

Smirking, I open the door and shut it.

I hate leading him on, but I'm sure he's done his fair share of tormenting girls. Besides, I doubt Zane will do anything. He's a mute when it comes to his emotions.

---

Looking in the mirror the whole front of my dress is stained a yellowish color.

“Gross.”

Grasping paper towels by the handful, I try and soak up the suds. My tits are sticky, and the smell is overwhelming. I like beer, don't get me wrong. Just not wearing it.

Swiping a towel in between my breasts, I huff and toss it on the counter. It’s hopeless. I need to go home and shower.

Needing to pee, I shimmy down my panties and use the restroom. Resting my chin on my hand, I look at the greasy tiles on the floor as I go. I wonder if the old ladies have to mop in here or if the prospects do? I bet it’s prospects.

The bathroom door is suddenly slammed open and a bunch of drunk girls barrel in.

“Someone’s in here!” I stand quickly and pull up my panties, forgetting to wipe.

A short woman with brown ringlets down her back stare daggers into me. Her makeup dark, matching not only her soul but her leather blouse tied so tight her breasts are spilling out.

That when it hits me. It’s fucking Baby.

Time has not been kind to her. You can tell she has partied way too much. The life of the club not agreeing with her.

“Why are you here?” Her sharp brows narrow in on me.

Wrinkles form across my forehead at the disbelief this woman has.

"As far as I know, I'm part of the club. What about you?" I rebuttal. One of the girls behind her gasps and Baby's nostrils flare. She’s not the club’s, not even close. She may be with Zane, but he’ll never make her an Ol’ Lady. That I know.

“Get your ass out of this bathroom, and out of this club,” she threatens.

Lifting my chin, I step up to her.

"Or what, Baby?" I don't back down. I might not be a badass like her or wear leather to the point I look like I'm ready for a BDSM orgy, but I won't let her run me out of here. Not again. Not this time.

"Are you really wanting to go there?" One of the girls who have no idea what this is even about asks from behind Baby. I can’t take them all on, in fact, I doubt I can take on even one. I need to get out of this club.

"Move," I warn Baby, but she doesn't budge.

Done with the crap, I push my way through the girls and I’m suddenly thrown into a hustle. A fist to my cheek thrusting me into the bathroom door.

My face warms, pulses, and I suddenly see red. I’ve never been hit before. Anger rips up my spine, and I suddenly want to give Baby everything I have.

Hand curled into a fist, I throw it at Baby, not caring if she was the one to hit me or not. My elbow hits one of the girls in the nose as I strike Baby right in the mouth. My fist skidding across her teeth like a rock skipping across water.

Shit hits the fan. My hair is pulled, my dress ripped. I claw, and slap and punch at anyone in my reach. Glitter coats my arms, and my bra strap is ripped off me.

“Hey! Hey!” Saint jumps in the middle, trying to split the fight up. I’m violently shoved out of the bathroom and into the hall wall. My chest rising and falling with adrenaline.

The girls start shouting at me to get out of the club. That I don’t belong.

I want to jump back in there and finish this, but my tits are falling out of my ripped bra.

“Go!” Saint hollers at me, trying to keep the mess of girls in the bathroom.

Forcing myself to walk away, Zane stands at the end of the hallway. His shoulder leaning into the wall, he casually rubs his chin with one hand. The smoky lights above casting just enough light upon him to give him an eerie vibe.

Glancing my way, he does a double take and pushes off the wall.

“Addie, what happened to your face?”

His voice angers me. He angers me. Why am I hanging on for him? Why do I care? Why does he care?

I shove him as hard as I can, and he gives me a hard stare.

“Why her?” I slap him, and his eyes widen. “Are we friends? Are we just friends? Huh?” I keep laying my hands into him, shoving him into the crowd. Everyone stops and stares at us, and my eyes begin to water.

Teeth baring, and cheek hurting so bad, I push past him and hurry outside.

Bobby is just climbing out of the driver side of my Jeep, and I slide up behind him. Kiss him on the cheek and get inside.

“Thanks, Dad.” It doesn’t go unnoticed I call him Dad. I do that time to time, depending on my mood.

“Addie?” Bobby’s voice wavers, but I put the Jeep into drive and get out of there.

My tires screeching as Zane appears in my rearview mirror.

I’m so angry. Why does it have to be this hard? Why does Zane have to be so damn complicated? And why Baby, what is so special about her?

---

A tear slides down my cheek and I feel humiliated. This is crazy. I told myself I wouldn’t get to this point again and here I am.

Rolling my windows down to get a breeze, I exhale a breath. I flick the radio on, trying to drown out the voices in my head. “Ghost” by Badflower is on, and I tap my fingers on the gear shift.

“Home. When I get home things will be better. I will pamper myself, and be away from the world I can’t fathom.

---

Standing in the driveway, I stare at the red taillights of Addie’s Jeep as she drives away. Her face was cut as if someone hit her. Only one person would be dumb enough to do that. Baby.

“What the fuck was that about?” Bobby hisses, stomping up behind me.

Rage whispers in my ear and my fingers strain as the urge to hurt someone or something. It’s unbearable.

“You going to answer me?” Bobby presses.

“I’ll take care of it,” I bite out through clenched teeth.

---

Turning where I stand, I march back into the club.

Everyone is dancing, drinking, and practically fucking. Oblivious that one of our own was just assaulted.

“Everyone out!” I yell above the music. Saint and Rad look at me in surprise from the couch. It’s the first time I’ve ever raised my voice. I wasn’t even sure I had that kind of volume in me.

“You heard him, get the fuck out!” Rad waves his hands toward the door. Shoving a chick off his lap.

“Party’s over!” Saint has my back.

The music cuts and everyone starts riveting out the double doors. Amongst the crowd, I spot Bull sitting at the bar, smoking a cigarette casually. The older he gets, the less he cares about parties.

His head lowered he blows smoke across the countertop, eyeing me.

“I don’t think much of bitch fights in my club. Especially when one of them is the daughter of a member.”

“I know,” I mutter.

“Fix it,” he demands. One of his biggest rules being no bitches at the club, for this reason alone. He must have seen everything go down which looks bad on me but least someone agrees that what just happened shouldn’t have happened. Addie is ours.

Anger bubbles in my chest like a bad infection. The thought that Addie was hurt in my own club making me hostile and uncontrollable.

I need to leave and get my head on straight before I even attempt to piece this shit together. I’m liable to fucking kill someone in here if I don’t get some fresh air. I need relief, something to take my anger out on.

“Take care of cleaning this place out. I’ll be back,” I tell Saint. He nods, shoving hang arounds out the door.

Climbing on my bike, I text the anonymous number that is my morphine. The only number saved into my phone. The one line into the underworld that very little people know about.

Hit me. - Z

Three dots pop up almost instantly.

House, is replied back. My mission will be waiting for me at my storage unit. Also known as the “house” to throw off anyone who might be tracking my phone.

“Where are you going?” Delilah cuts through my anger like a hot knife into cool butter. Tucking my phone into my pocket, I glare at her.

“Move,” I growl, the beast inside of me rattling its cage to come out. I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t think I ever would, but this dark thing inside of me is unpredictable. I cannot tame it, I can barely control it.

“No, tell me where you go when you get like this? Ever since we were kids and you got upset you would run off for hours, Zane! Why? Where do you go?”

I rev my motorcycle up, my eyes stabbing into hers to get the fuck out of the way. I can’t tell her. My father promised me not to tell anyone.

Fed up with me she scoffs, throwing her hands up at me before stomping off. Surely cussing at me.

I know she cares, but it’s too late for me. It’s not her. It’s not my family. It’s something I was born with, and it grew into something much bigger than I ever expected.

---

Racing through the night on my motorcycle, I dart in between cars and trucks. The reaper of the night laughing beside me as I drive erratically, as if I have a death wish. Maybe I do. It would make a hell of a lot more sense of why I am the way I am.

The traffic lights just ahead turns yellow and I give my bike all it has, twisting the throttle back I play with fate and race through the now red light. Cars slam on their brakes, and horns blow as I barely miss getting hit. A grin pulls at the corner of my lips as my heart pumps harder than it has in a while.

Jesus, I’m really fucked up.

---

Pulling into the storage unit’s parking lot just outside of the city, I ride up to unit number 666. I didn’t pick it, it was given to me. It was as if fate dealt me the tarot cards for mass murdering.

I press my right thumbprint into the lock and it beeps before unlocking and revealing a gold Skelton key.

Fisting it, I unlock the def-con lock that holds my deepest secret. One that would put me on death row if ever discovered. The secret my father taught me to perfect. Pulling the metal door just enough for me to fit under I shut it, and turn to fish the string to the light in the dark. A lonely light bulb sweeps back and forth displaying weapons of all grades sitting on dusty shelves and knives that have killed unsolved murders.

Cobwebs maze around the area, the light not quite reaching the darkest corners of the unit.

Taking a step forward my boot kicks something.

A yellow envelope.

My mission.

Sighing, I bend down and pick it up. Upon opening it, I find my target.

Subject: Teagan Fisher

Age: 47

Location: Works at Hampton Bar until midnight.

Reason for Hire: Rapist who escaped the justice system.

My eyes flick to the left finding an image of Mr. Fisher.

Egg-shaped head with dark hair greased back. Bird nose, and dimpled chin. His almond-shaped eyes stare into me telling me it’s his time.

My hands begin to shake thinking about the adrenaline rush about to poison my veins, but when my eyelids blink, I still see Addie’s bruised face. My anger getting hotter by the second.

I need this kill, it’s the only way I can think like a normal person.

Shutting the file, I try and shut Addie out of my head and pick my poison to end this motherfucker.

When blood sprays into the night offering the reaper a sacrifice, I’ll be gifted with the answer of what I’m meant to do with mine and Addie’s relationship. The Devil will give me the answer. He always does.

I stall. Wait, did I say relationship?

No, it’s not that. Whatever we are, it’s not that. But it’s a friendship I don’t want to fuck up because my dick decided I never met a girl like Addie, and I realized I never will.

Pulling up to the location given to me, the Hampton Bar, I turn my motorcycle engine off. Straddling my bike, I pull on my favorite pair of black gloves and look the place over. It’s some kind of nightclub. I’ve never been to this place before, then again, I’m not much of a social person. The idea of me dancing at a club is comical.

Palm trees decorate each side of the entry, the pink double doors propped open so you can see inside. Strobes of purple and blue lights dance and weave across the floor and I swear to God I’m about to have a stroke from it.

Putting my bike on its kickstand I head toward the building, my heart slowly begins to pick up its pace. Girls tripping over their heels walk out of the building and into the parking lot, staring at me as I walk past them. I ignore them. They’re so drunk they won’t remember seeing me. The vessel in my neck pounds with anticipation, and my teeth bare down to nearly cracking. The hunt is part of the fun part, you can tell a lot about a person just by where they hang out. Let’s see who Mr. Fisher is. Stepping inside the club the air is thick and smoggy, but I spot my victim almost immediately. He’s dancing in the middle of the dance floor standing at least a foot taller than everyone else. At least I think that’s dancing, hell I wouldn’t even call this shit playing through the speakers, music. He’s wearing a white button-up that is unbuttoned halfway down his hairy chest, and tight black looking pants with ridiculous looking shoes.

Cracking my neck, I wonder if I should just step up behind him and do this or wait for him to get away from the crowd. I won’t be dancing if I go out on the dance floor and that will cause me to stand out. Dad’s first rule of killing: always blend in. I sigh, becoming impatient. Like a drug addict staring at their next fix, I have to wait for the right moment. You only get one shot.

The song changes from techno to another song that is just as noisy. It’s starting to give me a fucking headache.

Mr. Fisher slips through the crowd making his way toward the back of the club and I walk the wall, keeping an eye on him.

He passes the bar and heads down a dark hallway. He’s using the restroom. Perfect.

Pulling my hoodie up, I weave my way back down the hallway, the darkness smelling of mold and cheap beer. My boots stick to the grimy floor as if passing people have spilled their drinks and nobody bothered to clean it up. Pushing the ad covered door open there are three stalls without doors, and one cracked sink. Mr. Fisher stands at one of the three piss stained urinals making beat noises with his mouth. Should I let him see me? Should I do it before he knows it’s coming? My ears rush from the amount of blood pushing through my veins. I’m practically fucking giddy at the thought of killing him.

I step up behind him, my front nearly flush with his back. His eyes meet mine in the smudged mirror above the urinal, his eyes widen with alarm, and my heart relaxes seeing his face. The look of horror, the last fleeting breath before I take his eternal soul. His chest pounds and yet I find solace in what’s about to happen.

Pulling the gun from my waistband, I hold it to his head and piss dribbles down his leg. I want to hang on to the look gleaming in his eyes. One of fear, and giving me power. But, I have to be quick. Pulling the trigger, the gun gives one soft tug against my palm, spitting a bullet into the back of his skull. The silencer taking most of the sound. His head bounces off the mirror cracking it, and he falls into his own piss.

I breathe in the metallic smell, and my head lolls back. The flee of anger and pent-up confusion running as free as the blood from his head. I can finally think clearly now. It’s like all the pressure, and tension just vanished as soon as I pulled the trigger. It becomes clear to me that Baby needs to go.

Looking at the sack of shit on the floor I don’t feel bad, if anything I did this town a service. He would have raped again, or worse.

This is the world my dad taught me. The one that kept me from becoming a complete psychopath.

I’m a hired hitman, and only my father knows about it. He promised Mom he would never do it again, but when he saw me starting to become like him… he started to pick up jobs every once and awhile and showed me how to take over. It was those trips I longed for. A father-son bonding over taking another human’s life.

I only accept cases such as these and this way I control my urge to hurt innocent people. I’m not proud of what I am. A monster that creeps in the shadows causing every woman to look over her shoulder. The ticking time bomb sitting in the corner drinking coffee that might explode any minute and take out a diner.

This is why I live the biker lifestyle. Nobody else would accept me.

Not if they knew who I really was, but the club would because in a fucked up way none of my brothers are that different than me. I’m just not ready to tell anyone though.

---

Straddling my bike, I pluck the gloves from my hands and shove them in my saddlebag. The night air cool in my lungs. Yeah, I am calmer now. I can actually think.

“Are we just friends?” echoes through my skull like a bare-knuckle punch to the head. I’ve loved Addie since the day I jumped in front of a bullet for her. But how much more of a monster would I be to lead a lamb to the mythical wolf.

Will it satisfy me to finally have Addie the way I’ve always wanted her?

Will she accept me and my way of living?