Page 58 of Beyond the Blue Horizon

But there I was, a prisoner to the burn in my body as I flew along the lake, The Sanctuary neon sign glowing like a beacon in the distance where my motel sat at the far end of the shore.

That anticipation only amped as I made the left onto the long drive and wound my bike through the thick woods, then took to the paved private drive that led to my house.

I dug my phone out and pushed the button for the garage door and pulled my bike into its spot.

Didn’t take the time to go inside my house.

I grabbed a flashlight and pushed out into the night.

Walking the perimeter of the motel the way I always did. Ensuring it was clear of the fiends and beasts that would forever hunt for innocent prey.

Wondering if I was just as sick as them.

Because I stood in the shadows staring up at the haze of light that glowed from the big upper window on the second floor of Unit B.

Wondering how this stranger could make me feel like I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere else.

NINE

THEO

TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OLD

Theo pulled backon the throttle of his bike. The powerful engine grumbled and growled, a roar in the vapid, desolate night, the heavy metal vibrating through him as he tore down the street.

A street that was seedy as fuck.

Filled with corruption and depravity.

Half of it meted by his own dirty, tainted hands.

He’d been partner to it for so long that he no longer recognized anything else. Had been this way since he’d found himself homeless at fifteen. A bus had dumped him in the middle of LA after he’d run from the place that could no longer be considered a home.

A scoff ripped from his throat at the memory.

Home.

That was something it had never been.

His parents had hated him since the day he was born, a sentiment he’d easily returned, and it had been only a matter of time before he split.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d found one here. The family that had been built with his brothers during the time when the only thing they could do was survive.

Nah.

Otto, Cash, Kane, and River weren’t blood.

They were better than that.

Their loyalty was scored on their souls.

It had only grown deeper since they’d been running with the Iron Owls. All five of them fitting in with the perversion like they’d been made for it.

Powerful and feared.

No one brave enough to touch them.

No one to abuse or torture or neglect them the way most of them had been when they were kids.