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Prologue

“You can’t leave me, I love you”

Her tears did nothing to him Nor did the pain in her voice It was music to his broken soul

“I love heroin,” he replied, yanking his arood for me Doesn’t mean it won’t destroy me If I let it”

He stepped back and she tried to scuttle forward but he raised his gun to her forehead She stopped iht’ve been crazy, but she knew hih to know that he didn’t raise his piece unless he planned on using it

“I’m not lettin’ you destroy me,” he said

He was doing a fine job of that himself

“I won’t let you leaveher spine, the words a er threat

He laughed The sound was empty and cold “I can and I am You try to follow me, I’ll kill you,” he promised “Just like I did your fucked-up family”

Then he turned on his heel and walked away

His steps were measured, even, and didn’t even pause at the screeches, threats, and pleads hurled at his back

Itrunning

He didn’t run from shit

Shit ran from him

He made sure of that

Physically, at least

If you wanted to get into all that emotional, psychobabble bullshit, then yeah, he ran Fro at his skull, licking at his heels

They weren’t literal, those demons

Couldn’t tear through his flesh like a bullet, break bones like a fist, or nick an artery like a blade

But they could kill him

Though only if he stopped running

So he didn’t

Toa pussy in his own mind, he didn’t run from shit in the real world Or whatever this here he lived now

No, he didn’t run froer Fuck, he chased that shit, craved it like he used to crave the needle Like he still craved the needle He wasn’t a recovering addict, if you wanted to get technical—he’d just traded one substance for another Poison in a syringe for death, pain, blood, violence His cut His brothers The ones he’d die for The ones he’d kill for And though they didn’t know it, the ones who kept him alive—if that’s what he was

But soed in LA when shit went down

He did run