Prologue

About Six Years Ago

Roxie

A shot ringing out wakes me in the middle of the night. A man is screaming, my father is shouting, and I smell gasoline and fire. An orange light is coming in through my bedroom window, and it takes my sleep-muddled brain a few moments to put all that together. Our house is on fire and someone set it. We're under attack.

"Dad!" I scream. "What's happening?"

"Run, Roxie!" he shouts back.

A second shot rings out. It’s followed by a scream of pain from my father.

I should be doing what he told me, climbing out my window and running away. Instead, I fling my bedroom door open and run toward the sound of Dad's scream. He sounded like he was in pain. I must help him.

The hallway outside my room is dark, because it has no windows, so the orangey light outside can't reach it. But the smell of burning is worse here.

"Finish him off," a strange man says. A second later, I hear another shot.

"No!" I scream and run faster, my bare feet hitting the wooden planks and making a lot of noise, but I hardly hear it, hardly feel the thuds.

The door of my father's bedroom is open, but I can't see anyone inside. Maybe I'm just dreaming. Maybe this is just a nightmare. But the smell of smoke is burning my nose, and my heart is thumping so hard my whole body is pulsing. I don't think this is a dream.

And when I reach my father's bedroom, I'm certain of it. He's lying on the floor by his bed, in a pool of his own blood, groaning, his eyes full of fear like I’ve never seen there before, as they lock on mine. His room is awash in the orange light of the fire raging somewhere outside.

"Daddy!" I yell and run to him. But a pair of arms locks tight around my waist, not only stopping me, but also hoisting me into the air.

"Why, if it isn't Roxie," the man holding me says in a sleazy, slimy, lewd voice. "You've grown into a beautiful woman since I saw you last. You should be proud, Wolfman," he adds, addressing my father who lets out a growl and tries to stand, but can't.

I'm fighting to free myself from the man’s grip as hard as I can, but he's head and shoulders taller than me and twice as wide.

My father's eyes are still locked on mine, but the light in them is fading. I have to get to him, I have to stop the bleeding, I have to save him.

"I'm sorry, Roxie," he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut.

"No! Daddy!" I scream. "Don't die!"

But his open eyes have no light in them anymore.

"You should've listened to your Daddy and run," the man who's still holding me tight whispers into my ear. "But you wouldn't get far even if you had."

His breath smells of garlic and nastiness.

"Let me go!" I scream. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lizard, President of Satan’s Spawn MC," he says. "Your daddy crossed me and now he's dead. And all his men are dead. And you're mine, pretty Roxie. Time to go."

I fight him all the way to the stairs as he carries me from the room, but his grip on me is like iron shackles.

"Settle down, or I'll throw you down the stairs," he hisses. And while I'd prefer to be dead, the sudden shock of facing a tumble down the stairs does make me freeze.

"Good girl," he whispers as he descends with me in his arms. We're almost halfway down the stairs before I regain my senses and start fighting again.

He stops and grips me by the throat with one hand, squeezing hard. "Better settle down, while I'm still in a good mood, Roxie. You won't like me in a bad mood."

It's a threat I believe. But I'm past caring. I'd rather die than go with him.

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