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The drugs and the killing.

Some days it felt like he had to be hallucinating. Lost in a nightmare. That none of this could be real, even though he plunged himself right back into the depravity each day.

Their bikes rumbled and chugged as they pulled up in front of the dive bar where probably a hundred other bikes were parked. Neon lights glowed from the blackened windows and the stench of corruption wafted back.

They backed in between the mass of metal and chrome before they swung off and strode through the door. It was dingy and packed inside. Flooded with Iron Owls and a bevy of women.

Some bunnies. Others there were taking a walk on the wild side.

Trevan felt disoriented again. Lost in the smoke and dim lights and the hum of depravity, though it felt like he was carved from it. He could almost see his mother’s face engraved in the wood-paneled walls.

Her sneers. Her voice. The words.

You’re worthless.

You piece of shit.

You never should have been born.

He wondered then if she was right.

Their vice president, Trent, clapped him on the back, gave his welcome, acted as if all was well, even though Trent had been warning them secretly that things with the club were about to go south.

Their president and Trent’s father, Cutter, had always been a nasty scumbag, but things seemed to be sliding out of sorts as of late.

Trevan did two shots with his crew, let the numbness wind into his system. Trying to make all of this right in his soul.

But he could never fully settle.

Felicity pinned him from across the bar. She always did. She slithered up his way, slipped her fingers up beneath his cut.

He didn’t hesitate when she took him by the hand and led him down the short hall and into the bathroom.

He set her on the sink and fucked her the way she wanted him to.

Gave himself to the physical gratification. The release. Searched around inside himself to feel something bigger.

Something different than this.

God. He was losing it. He’d spent six years as an Iron Owl, but he wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

Felicity clawed and purred at him, though she was saying words she shouldn’t say when he came. “I missed you. I don’t want to ever be without you.”

She peered up at him with blue, pleading eyes.

He knew she was catching feelings. Knew he was the only one she’d been fucking for the last six months. That she kept coming back around here for him.

“Be with me?” she whispered. “I know you’re lonely. Empty. I can see it. The same way as I am.”

And maybe it was the fact that he was desperate to feel something good in the midst of the corruption. To be better than the twisted monster that he’d become. Right when he’d let everything inside him go wrong.

Maybe he was fucking empty.

But the only thing he could give her was a nod. A flimsy agreement that he wasn’t sure meant anything.

Because the only fullness he had was when he crept back into that humble house in the middle of the night.

The home that Meems had welcomed him back into. He pressed his ear to her door, almost fucking smiled when he heard her rattled snores through the wood.