Page 1 of Falling Hard

Prologue

Hammer

Live fast, die young, and do some fucked-up shit while there is oxygen in your lungs. That was one of the mottos I learned while growing from a prospect in the Sacred Souls MC to becoming the chapter president.

I lived life on the edge. I rode my bike at speeds that would cause a thrill seeker’s stomach to turn, spent more birthdays behind bars than a free man, and never expected to live to my twenty-second birthday let alone my thirtieth or the birth of my daughter.

The day she was born was the same day I swore I wasn’t going back to prison or ever letting her out of my sight.

Before I knew it, her mother was out of the picture, and I was in my early thirties, bringing up a baby girl and not having a fucking clue about parenting.

The reason I survived it was because of my brother, Rusty, who was in the same fucking sinking boat as me with a daughter of his own, and fuck, did we have some bad days in the beginning. But things changed as we brought them up while managing to grow the club, as well. As soon as Libby was old enough to be on the back of a bike, Rusty hit the road, going back to his nomad position.

Emmie was and is my everything. The kid sweetness, tainted with darkness. It wasn’t her fault, though, it was mine. Rusty and my grandmother had the ‘crazy gene,’ or at least, that was what the family called it.

To be truthful, I was harsh toward my grandmother. I didn’t have time for her mental health issues until my daughter presented with similar signs, taking a turn down a path I couldn’t stop her from traveling. A path nightmares were made of and a lonely one I couldn’t accompany her on.

Emmie was diagnosed with schizophrenia at an age when most teenagers were testing their parents’ curfews. Due to our family history, it was an easy diagnosis for the psychiatrist

It fucking broke my heart every time I saw the distance in her eyes and when she muttered back to the demons filling her mind with thoughts.

A voice hearer, such as my daughter, was fucking tough, and I knew one day, I wouldn’t be able to protect her.

Like the current situation that Rusty and I were facing was going to leave the girls on their own.

Rusty knew exactly what it was like to watch your daughter walk down a path you couldn’t accompany her on.

Libby suffered from extreme panic attacks, the type that usually resulted in hospital admission for the normal individual. However, over the years, by calling the attacks her quirks, she’d managed to control them.

“So how long we got?” I took the cigarette out of my mouth and turned to look at my younger brother, who seemed torn between telling me the truth and lying. That or his mind was on something else.

“Long enough to put plans in place for the girls.” Rusty's copper-colored eyes locked with mine. “I’m making arrangements so she won’t be left on her own.”

I frowned, not understanding. Libby hated the club life—as in, she didn’t want to be owned by the club—so I doubted Rusty’s plan involved the club taking care of her because she wouldn’t have that.

“You know Lynx?” Rusty butted his cigarette out on my wooden desk.

I ran my hand down my beard. “What sort of question is that? He reports to me.”

“He’d make a good VP.”

My eyes sharpened. “That so?”

“Yeah, and a good nephew-in-law.” Rusty’s mouth moved, and I heard the words, but I highly doubted he said what he said.

“You’re setting her up with him?” Surely, I wasn’t putting this together right.

But one firm nod from Rusty confirmed it.

I let out a string of curse words. Finally, getting control of my rage, I said, “How the fuck did you let that happen!!”

“Not letting it happen, making it happen,” he corrected me. “You can’t say you haven’t thought of who’d be looking after Emmie?”

“The club.” My weak and vague reply got his attention.

“That so?” he pressed.

“Fuck it, Rusty! Ain’t no man I trust with my daughter!” I snapped at him as a firm knock sounded on my office door. “Come in!” I shouted, more pissed off with what Rusty was suggesting than the person interrupting us.

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