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PROLOGUE

BEASTY, 2 DAYS AFTER SHE LEFT THEIR APARTMENT

T he looming sign for the shelter was almost impossible to see. The neon motel sign next door illuminated the night sky, casting everything else in shadows. It was kind of metaphorical in a way.

The shelter represented everything I didn't want in my life, much like finding a cardboard box on the street. If I started there, I could save money. But I'd also lose any sense of privacy.

Maybe, if I started at the motel, with access to a private bathroom, I'd find a job faster. I'd need it.

It cost fifty bucks to get here, depleting some of the precious dollars from the Visa Books had given me. Mainly because I'd decided to go a whole state away, but I couldn't stay where the boys were. It...It hurt too much.

I also wouldn't sleep on the streets. That was in my past, and as much freedom as Aunt Erin had, there was nothing good to come from that. The people I'd known then didn't work jobs. Didn't get regular meals. They got to be free from society and live their lives on their terms, but I wanted more than that for myself.

The shelter or the motel?

I walked toward the motel, ignoring the slight twinge of pain from losing my virginity. Sucking in a breath at the reminder of Kim, I bit down on my bottom lip.

Had I really hurt him? When he saw my bag, I swore I saw real heartbreak in his eyes.

I had to choose between my past and my future. I didn't want to surround myself with people like Megan and Ed. I wanted to leave all that behind and what the guys were doing, it would stick to me like mud. No, like quicksand sucking me under, suffocating the life out of me and never letting me go again.

The dirty, glass door was wedged open already. I pushed and a musty scent I'd only ever associated with old carpet and outdated furniture greeted me. An older woman sat behind the counter with thick glasses covering her eyes. She was the very definition of unapproachable as she frowned at her computer and obnoxiously chomped on her gum.

I dropped my duffle bag at my feet and propped an arm on the high counter. My nerves jangled as I waited for her to acknowledge my presence.

"Excuse me?" I ducked my head a little to put myself closer to her line of sight.

She stopped chewing and flicked her eyes up at me like I was the worst itch on her ass. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a room, please."

The woman squinted. "Are you old enough to rent a room on your own?"

"Yes, I have an ID and I have money." I pulled my cards out of a slip attached to my prepaid phone. It was out of minutes, but I could easily add them on. I just didn't want to needlessly use my money if I didn't have to.

The chime on the door rang again.

"Heyo!" A deep voice called out and the woman's face lit up, revealing a blackened canine.

I turned my head just enough to see who it was, and a man puffed out in a black jacket and way too big of jeans rubbed his hands together as he walked up behind me. Licking his lips, he raised his gaze to my face and grinned when he caught me staring.

"Who might you be?"

"Ricco, stop playing. You can't hit on the customers."

"Why?" He sniffed. "It could be new assets." He winked at me then crossed his arms on the counter. "I need three rooms for the girls. We only need them for an hour."

Oh, no.

This wasn't where I wanted to be. I reached down, quietly grabbing the strap of my bag, and straightened. While they continued to talk specifics, I started backing up.

"Hey, lady. Didn't you want a room?" The woman stood, waving her fingers at me. Ricco turned and leaned his back against the counter.

"If you want a job, I can help you out." The slimy way he said that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

"No, thanks," I muttered. My back hit the door and I shot out of there so fast. I didn't stop until I entered the door to the shelter.

The front lobby was dim but a TV played in the corner. Similar to the motel, there was a desk, but this one was behind a plexiglass wall with a slot at the bottom and holes to speak through.

There was one woman behind the counter here too, but she was more of a grandmother figure in a sweater set and pearl earrings. She stood when she saw me and smiled.

The warmth she portrayed set me at ease and my shoulders slumped. This was the kind of employee I thought I'd encounter at the motel. But what did I know?

Nothing, and it was becoming more and more obvious the longer I was on my own.

"Hello, dear. Do you need a place to stay for the night?" Even her voice was sweet like Mrs. Claus.

"I do," I said in one rushed breath. Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I shuffled forward. "I started to go to the motel but..." Why was I telling her this?

She wouldn't care, and I wasn't in the habit of talking to people. There was just something about her that I gravitated toward. It was like a feeling I'd never had and always wanted. Comfort.

Her lips pressed tight as she shot a narrow-eyed look at the wall, the same direction as the motel.

"Let me guess, they offered you a job?" Her voice took on a steely note.

"Mm-hmm." I didn't want to admit any more than that.

"Come on up here. My name is Trudy." She waved her hand in a circle, motioning me forward. "You can tell me about yourself while I check you in."

I didn't know about that, but I did head to the counter.

She waited until I was close before she continued. “I need your ID, dear. I know it might make you uncomfortable, but if you're willing to share the reason you need a place to stay, I'd like to hear it."

That sounded ominous. I was too old for the system, but could she still call the police? Was there anything the police could even do? "Do I have to tell you to get a room?"

"A bed, and no." She took my ID and started tapping with one finger on the keyboard while she held my ID close to her face. "You just look like you could use someone to talk to. I have three kids and seven grandbabies. I'm really good at listening."

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. That sounded foreign. A large family? And they had a sweet grandma to listen to them? A bite of jealousy sat in the pit of my stomach, but I shook it away. I wasn't jealous, not really. And who was to say her family was really as rosy as she made it seem?

"You didn't give those jerks any of your information, did you?" she asked when I didn't answer her.

"What do you mean?" I took my ID back and slid it in the pocket in front of the Visa.

"Your name or anything?" she clarified.

"No. I hadn't gotten that far when a man came in. He was the one who asked me if I wanted a job."

"You have good instincts to get away from there as far and as fast as possible." She shook her head, grabbed a few papers and stuck them on a clipboard. "They're bad news. You know that didn't used to be a motel? It was a used furniture store. But when we moved in here, I don't know, twenty years ago, it wasn't long before they moved in, looking to take advantage of young women."

That was bad.

My stomach churned and I placed my hand over it. Was I ever going to get away from people like that? I wanted to, desperately, but everywhere I turned there was someone looking to profit off someone else.

I'd hoped the boys weren't like that, but they were just as bad.

"Sign here, and here. These are agreements that you'll follow our code of conduct. You should read over it before you sign it. Then this is a liability waiver, stating that you indemnify Sunny Homes of any responsibility should you be injured on the property."

The code of conduct was basic. What I would expect if I'd know to expect anything at all. No stealing, no violence, no drugs.

The other part, it didn't make sense.

"What does that mean? The indemnity?" I hesitated before signing my name.

"If you get injured, you can't sue the shelter." The lady took a moment to study me. "What that means, dear, is that we want to help you, but we can't help you at the expense of helping others. As much as I hate to say it, there are some troubled souls who pass these doors. And you know the American culture. Everyone wants to sue everyone nowadays."

I nodded like I knew that. I didn't.

I signed my name in all the places and handed the clipboard back.

"Okay! Let's get you settled in, and I'll show you where everything is." She walked to the end of the counter, then came around to open a door for me. It buzzed.

"You have to be out of here by eight a.m. Last call for a spot is ten p.m." She headed down a low-lit hallway. "Showers are on the right. There are also lockers that you can place your bag in. You can bring your own padlock, but unfortunately we don't supply them. We tried once, but they just walked away." She tittered out a laugh.

We passed a room that said Males. There was no window so I couldn't see inside, although I could hear a deep murmuring from within.

At the end of the hall, there were two more doors. A Female door, then a Family door. "This room is for our single ladies." She laughed again. "This one is for our mothers and children."

My heart squeezed. I didn't want to think about all the women with kids who needed a place to stay. Or why. I couldn’t help them, and I needed to worry about myself.

"What about jobs?" I asked as she settled her hand on the Female doorknob. "Can the shelter help me with that?"

"Oh yes! We have a few resources. We want you to get on the right track so you can leave and never come back." She smiled and this one was kinder than the others. More soft, and a little sad. "We would never turn you away, but our mission is to get you the best tools for your toolkit so you're never in a position to need us. Who knows? Maybe one day, you'll volunteer here and help others."

She pushed the door open and the light conversation stopped. There were about thirty cots set up around the room and a little over half were taken. Women were sitting on the beds, brushing their hair or reading books.

They all turned our way and my face heated from the attention.

"We have a newcomer!" the lady announced. "This is Cressida. Be nice and show her the ropes!"

"Thanks, Trudy! We love fresh blood before bed!" one woman shouted, rolling her eyes as Trudy left.

Conversation was still stalled as the door clicked shut behind me. The women studied me just as hard as I studied them. Some were young, like me. Some were older and a little more haggard.

They all had hollow eyes and an air of sadness.

"Here, you can come next to me." One girl around my age patted an empty cot. I headed over and as I walked, the conversation slowly picked back up.

"Thanks," I murmured as I set my bag down on the bed. I'd love a shower, but I didn't know if I wanted to leave my bag here or if I could even get back in.

"We have a key that we can take with us to the showers, if that's what you're thinking. The door stays locked. It protects us."

That made sense.

"That's okay. I'll wake up early and take a shower then." I slipped my shoes off and tucked them under the cot, like all the other women had done.

"What brings you here?" she asked. The girl didn't offer her name, and from her tone, I wasn't even sure she wanted to have a conversation. She was probably only curious.

"I'm just trying to get on my feet. Get away from bad situations." They were fragments, but they were all the truth I was willing to share.

"Aren't we all?" She huffed. "It's especially hard when you do have money, you try to go get your own room, your own bathroom, and find out they're just as bad."

"The motel?" I asked, settling under the blanket and resting my head on the thin pillow.

"Yeah. You try it too?"

"Yeah. I wanted a room, but I got a bad feeling there."

She snorted. "More than bad. But that's what I've learned. It's the people who have nothing who are willing to help. The people who have a little money get greedy and they'll do anything to make more." Turning over, she pulled the blanket up to her shoulder, ending our chat.

Hadn't she just confirmed everything I'd learned too? Everything Books had told me in a way? I knew what I wanted for myself, and I wouldn't compromise it.

Not for money. Not for greed.

ATLAS, ONE WEEK LATER

I took the curve so hard, the back end of my Ferrari 488 GTB fishtailed. The furious wave of blood pumping through my body lit me up from the inside out.

"Shit!" I narrowly avoided the car next to me. If he'd been just two seconds faster, we both would have ended up eating the wall.

"Slow down, thirty-five!" The voice crackled from the walkie-talkie clipped to the sun visor.

I let out a slow breath, focusing on the tremble in my fingers where I gripped the steering wheel. I wouldn't be answering the control desk. It was too dangerous at these speeds to take my hands off the steering wheel, and they didn't expect my answer anyway.

Letting my foot off the gas, I coasted for a short stretch coming out of the curve. Then that asshole, twenty-one, started to edge up beside me again.

Fuck that.

I pressed the gas pedal down to the floor and my back smashed against the seat as I jumped ahead of five and fourteen. "Hell yeah!" I shouted, the thrill coursing through my body and injecting some kind of magic through my limbs.

This was living. The rush. The knife's edge of life and death.

One wrong move and I’d kill myself and maybe another driver on my way out. I shivered at the thought. I didn't want to take a life. Not one that hadn't wronged me, but there was an exhilaration in the danger.

"Slow down!" the man yelled, frantic. "Thirty-five! Slow the fuck down! You're going to wash out at the next turn!"

Twenty-one must have been feeling some kind of way because he was closing the distance. His number on his hood flashed in the tiny-ass mirror for a brief second before he swerved, trying to take the lead.

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips. Then I edged the gas pedal down, gaining about ten miles per hour. The alarm started to blare inside the stadium and men in jumpsuits were waving their arms, trying to flag my attention.

Except, I was only concerned with the man on my ass. I shifted to the right just enough to cut him off, then he fishtailed himself and dropped back.

Take that, motherfucker.

The corner was coming up fast and there was no one on it. Perfect. I increased speed again, ignoring the additional calls from the walkie-talkie. They could fuck themselves in the ass. I had this. I'd let off as soon as I entered the bend.

"Damn it!" Twenty-one was trying to pass me again.

Sweat beaded on my brow and one droplet rolled down my chest. I could do it. Just a bit faster, and I'd be there.

I curled my toes, adding the lightest amount of pressure to the pedal, speeding up barely five miles per hour. I held it too long.

I beat twenty-one by a hair's breadth. Then I spun out.

"Fuck!" I gripped the steering wheel as the car twisted in raging circles across the five lane race track. My body slammed back and forth from the momentum and the track blurred around me. All except for the blaring orange that whizzed by.

Without hitting anything, my car slammed to a stop in the center. I catapulted forward and the seatbelt cut into my chest before yanking me back against the seat.

"Fuck!" I yelled, slapping my hands against the steering wheel until it groaned and bent.

My door yanked open, and a burly man who smelled like cheap Lipton's onion dip reached across me, unfastened the seat belt, and yanked me out by the front of my designer shirt.

He was stretching it. What the fuck did it matter? My heart raced and I had a high like I'd never had before. Exactly what I needed.

He shook me and his words rang inside my head. "You stupid, ignorant fool! You cunt-ass motherfucker!" Then he started dragging me behind him off the track.

The alarm was louder now that I wasn't tucked away inside the race car and didn't have the luxury of the engine to blanket over the noise. It hurt my ears, yet still sounded like it was coming from another room.

"He's gone, boss," the man growled. "He's a liability. I don't give a fuck who he is and what kind of publicity he brings to the track. He's going to get himself killed and take as many drivers with him as he can. I'm going to grab twenty-one too. He's out."

I was deposited into an air-conditioned office, the cold air pebbling my skin.

My heart had started to stabilize, and I yanked my shirt back into place. Screw them. I'd take my business to the Autobahn before they kicked me out.

I walked out on shaky legs. They let me go, but not without a few nasty looks from the attendees. They thought I cared about them? Please, I'd seen stiffer stares from the has-been designers trying to make a comeback.

Snotty asses.

I plopped down inside my car and grabbed my phone. Without opening it, I dropped my hand to my lap and rested my head against the headrest. I hadn't even shut my door. Hell, I still had one foot on the pavement.

This euphoria wouldn't last for long, and I just wanted to fucking enjoy it.

There was nothing more important than this feeling. Nothing more exuberant or as life changing, I didn't give a fuck what Joaquin said.

My phone buzzed.

I ignored it. My heart pounded a fast staccato against my ribs.

Thum-thump. Thum-thump. Thum-thump.

The buzzing sounded again. Then a third time.

No , I groaned. I was coming down too fast.

Psyched the shit out, I tapped my screen.

Kim

Red alert. Joaquin.

"Fuck, man!" I slung my phone across the car, getting another hit of satisfaction when the plastic cracked.

Shutting my door, I put on my seatbelt, wincing as it chafed against a sore bit of skin. That wasn't good. My torso, second to my face, was my moneymaker and while imperfections could be airbrushed out, the designers would be pissed.

I hit the call button on my steering wheel as I navigated out of the parking lot. It was an attempt made in vain. Joaquin didn't answer.

He wouldn't, not when he was plastered six ways to Sunday and making a go at whatever underground club let him in.

I tapped a few more buttons on the car's tablet, finding his location and then setting directions. Sometimes, I thought location sharing was dumb, but Lake swore he'd worked it out so our data was unhackable. Right now, I could kiss him since I knew exactly where Joaquin was.

By the time I arrived, my high had leveled off into the worst adrenaline hangover. I was exhausted and needed a nap.

Where the fuck had Joaquin found this place? It was as backwoods as it could be, away from the city. I found the only parking spot at the end of a line of cars in mud. Fucking Joaquin.

When I stepped out, I had to practically hop out of the car to avoid the puddle.

The building was concrete, nothing exciting. But the cars were all luxury vehicles, costing at least half a mil each. Shaking my head, I beeped the lock on my car and headed for the entrance.

As soon as this was done, I was booking a ticket to Germany.

At the door, the bouncer raised a brow. I wasn't dressed like I usually would for a club, secret underground club or not.

"I'm just here to collect a friend," I murmured, pulling out a wad of cash.

He eyed it with disinterest. "What friend?"

"Joaquin Amaya." He didn't bat an eye, just snatched the hundreds out of my hand and stepped aside.

"Good luck." No inflection on the words to give me any indication at what I was walking into. When I opened the door, the scent of stale cigarettes and the burning sensation of alcohol hit me. This was where Joaquin chose to fuck his life up?

I sneered.

The front room was packed with nasty geezers at tables groping the servers. There were a few tables with rich as fuck women, but very few.

Texting Kim, I told him I was here as I walked toward the back. These clubs were always the same. The most legitimate room was up front, and there was a back exit that led to the fun rooms. If we ever opened a club, we'd do it differently. Not hide the levels, but make secrets within them.

A real Alice in Wonderland adventure.

Another bouncer was stationed in the hallway. Bingo.

He clocked me as soon as I was within three feet of him. "Name and purpose?"

"Atlas. I'm just here to collect Joaquin Amaya." Other people would have to give a description, but in this world, Joaquin's world, he was more well-known than we were.

The bouncer snorted, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. "He's that way. You can't miss him. If there's anything left to take back."

A frog lodged in my throat as I hustled down the hallway. Doors lined either side and eventually hooked to the left. Before I rounded it, I heard their voices.

Joaquin's slur. Kim's charming lies. And a third, angry man who sounded like a snapping Doberman.

"There's no harm, no foul." Kim had his sweetest smile on as he glanced at the man from beneath his lashes.

"No harm?" The man's hand swept toward the room behind him, missing the three men who flanked him. This man was all mobster with his expensive, yet ill-fitting, suit and mass of gold chains hanging around his neck. "He took every single patron and the house for everything they're worth! Then he yelled how stupid they were and how ignorant they were about the game!"

"I w-was giving fem tips." Joaquin dangled from one of the men's hands as his head lolled back. He was worse than plastered. My lover was one drink away from alcohol poisoning.

"He can't stay here. He's fucking banned." The leader snapped his fingers and one of the extras stepped forward, emptying all the chips from Joaquin’s pockets.

Kim watched them shake Joaquin down with an unreadable expression. The minute change in his posture was the only indication he showed that he knew I approached. His back straightened as if he took courage in my presence.

"Excuse me. What's going on?" I tried for casual, but I couldn't keep the venom from my face. They fucked up my night, and instead of taking it out on my lover and Kim, they'd at least presented me with options.

"He's gone. He's a fucking card counter." The disgust thickened the man's words.

"Fine, I'll take him."

The man laughed. "Not before we make sure he learns his lesson." With a nod, the man who emptied Joaquin’s pockets cocked back and landed a punch on his cheek. It was weak and would only bruise.

I released a sigh of relief. Even though Joaquin didn't make his money off of his body like we did, I wouldn't stand for another man to leave his mark on him. Not a permanent one.

"I can't let you do that." I reached for Joaquin, and the bastard had already passed out.

The men pulled back. "Sorry, friend. We'll let you take him after we're done with him. You'll stand down, unless you want a taste too."

Kim shrunk into himself. He hated violence.

A fury that had been riding me all day, hell, every day since Beasty left broke the surface. "Listen here." I searched for any identifying sign so I could find him again after we left. There was nothing. "You think you have the power, you don't. You think you know the right people? We know more. For every advantage you have, we'll one-up you. Don't you know?" I smirked. "We're America's sweethearts, and if we want you taken care of, there's enough ways to get it done, we'll never have to dirty our hands."

Kim perked up, listening to my words with rapture. This was his playroom. Beautiful threats that came off as sweet words. Stepping back into the role he'd taken for us, he eyed the men up.

"I have two men outside the club. They're ready to blow this place up on our call. Let our friend go."

"Yeah, right." The man rolled his eyes. "Then you'll go up with us. Nice try, kid."

Kim chuckled and just like everyone he encountered in the modeling world, the men seemed to get momentarily mesmerized.

"You think we care about that? We've been fucked, sucked, and used our entire lives. We love living on the edge, and if we have to die to take assholes like you out, then so be it."

The man stopped laughing, his face dropping into a serious expression. He considered what Kim said.

"You'd have to be suicidal to actually do that."

Kim gave him his signature demure smile. "You recognize us. If not us, you know about us because of Joaquin's reputation. What makes you think we're not?"

At first the man froze. Then he sighed. "Let him go, he's not worth the trouble." He jabbed a finger toward Joaquin. "This is his only warning. If he so much as steps foot in that fucked up parking lot, he’s dead. Got it?"

Joaquin groaned. He didn't have a clue what was happening.

"We understand." My hands rotated at my sides. I wanted to fuck them up so bad. I needed an outlet, but I couldn't fight. That wasn't my style. I'd rather take them down from the inside out.

I eyed the men, committing their faces to memory. Soon.

They dropped Joaquin and I caught him before his knees fully buckled. Lifting him into my arms bridal style, I faced the man.

"Don't sleep. Death is coming for you."

Kim and I walked out. No one stopped us. No one seemed even the slightest bit concerned about an unconscious man.

Outside, I asked Kim, "Where did you park?"

"I took an Uber. Joaquin did too."

Good. That meant we didn't have to worry about leaving any of our property here. "What happened in there?"

Kim opened the back door, and I laid Joaquin in the backseat. When I straightened, Kim canted his head.

"What do you think happened?"

I blew out a harsh breath. I didn't want to have this conversation. In fact, I'd be happy never to talk about that betraying bitch ever again.

For the most part, I'd done a fantastic job of ignoring her existence.

"Atlas..." Kim's voice was strangled as his eyes misted up.

"No." I opened my car door and slid in the driver's seat.

"Please, I just–We just–"

"I said, no!" We were not talking about her. I didn't give a fuck if Kim wanted to pick over why she left or if she was coming back.

He wanted to talk about us being reckless and falling apart with her gone? I knew we were. I fucking knew that already!

"You're going too far, Atlas! Joaquin is going to get himself killed if the alcohol doesn't do it first. You're going to kill yourself at the race track. We'll never get her–"

"She's not coming back!" I bellowed, dropping my hand from the driver's side door. "Don't you get it, Kim? She doesn't want us. Beasty is never coming back."

"You don't believe that." His lower lip trembled.

"I do," I said softly.

"Then why are you doing every extreme activity known to man, knowing that any one of them could kill you? Why is Joaquin targeting the worst of the gambling world, hoping they'll fuck him up beyond repair? Lake's…I don't even know what Lake is doing–"

He did. We all did. Lake was addicted to the sex clubs. The pain.

"I can't even function!" He gripped his hair, pulling it out from his head as he bent over.

If there were any paps in the parking lot, they'd have a field day with this.

"We're falling apart! We need her!"

"Maybe." I allowed myself that disgusting kernel of truth. "But she doesn't need us. And this, Kim? What we're doing? It's who we've always been."

"We're going to kill ourselves."

"Did you ever think that's the point?" I slammed my door and started the car.

He stood there, breathing heavily, watching me through my window. Then he calmly walked around the front of the car and slid in the passenger seat.

We rode home in silence. We needed her, but she didn't need us, and all this recklessness, as Kim put it, was just us purging her from our system.

Fuck Beasty. Fuck her right off to Hell.