“This is good info. I’ll make some calls, see what I can find out. I’ll find your girl,” Dirk put his hand to mine and leaned in bumping his chest with my own.

“Reece,” I called out. “I need to fight. Set something up, will you?”

Reece had a devilish grin even under his dark beard. He rubbed his beard in contemplation as his smirk grew bigger. The woman on his side pressed her phony-ass breasts against him. He always had a chick hanging on him, in some way or another, and he had connections. “You hear that, everyone? Gunner’s going to fight. Max has a guy he’s been dying to have fight one of ours. Big motherfucker, too. I got a hundred on Gun.”

And just like that, I had a fight set.

I rode my bike with my brothers behind me. We met at a warehouse on neutral ground. It was one of three places illegal fights took place. It wasn't my first match, but it was the first time I needed the release.

My opponent's name was Jeremiah. Reece didn’t lie. He was a big ass dude. Had at least half a foot on me, and I was a beast. I bet that stupid motherfucker, Reece, actually bet on the other guy. That’d be his mistake. I had so much rage to fuel my fight. Jeremiah barely lasted a round.

Knockout.

I wasn't done, though. “You got anyone else?” I asked Reece. Reece nodded to Max and Max returned his nod with a chin lift.

A new fighter was brought out. This guy wasn't as big, but he was fast. He had full tat sleeves and a back piece that was fucking incredible. Maybe after I beat his ass, I’d find out who did his ink.

It didn’t end as quickly as the first fight. Make no mistake, though, I did end it. He got a few good hits on me. I couldn’t help but feel that I deserved them. I wanted to hurt physically. I needed to distract myself from the pain in my chest. I’d find my Mouse and I’d stop at nothing until I did.

6 months later

“Still nothing?” I balled my fist to stop from hitting Dirk. He didn’t have any news for me. He never did. It’d been nearly a year since I saw her last. Who knew that finding out records on juveniles in the system was so hard? She had a change in caseworkers and no one seemed to be able to give me any clear answers.

“I don’t know, man. It’s like she vanished. I can find her going to a temporary house, and then nothing. Those foster parents said she was quiet and that she was only there for a week.”

Of course, she was quiet. I didn’t start calling her Mouse because she was fucking boisterous.

“Screw this. I’ve given you time to find her. I’m hitting the streets on my own.”

“Brother, you know you can’t just leave. There’s so much going down. Hades will never be cool with that.”

“Then, I’ll leave my fucking patch at the door.”

“You don’t mean that. She’s a kid. You’d turn your back on your brothers for some pussy?”

Whack.

I couldn't help it. My fist was connecting to Dirk’s jaw as soon as he called Mouse pussy. I was over all of these assholes. In the year I’d been with them, I’d seen more fucked up shit than I could stand. My mother was no longer a woman I recognized. I also kept thinking that even if I did find Mouse, I’d die before I let her live among these pigs. I’d seen a few guys gang rape one of the whores. Granted she was a whore, but if a woman said no, then even if you fucked her willingly an hour ago, no still meant no. I would’ve killed them then, if Hades didn't see me getting all pissed off and held a gun to the back of my head. The longer I was with these men, the more I had wished I’d chosen jail. I couldn't take another minute of this.

I tore my patch from my shoulders and stormed out of the clubhouse. “Don’t do it, man. Hades will hunt you,” Dirk hollered after me.

I got a few looks from some of the guys, but that was it. This club was bullshit. No one was my brother here. They made me lose the only woman, besides my Ma who had ever mattered to me.

So, I got on my bike and rode away. If they weren't all too caught up in their own bullshit maybe they’d have come after me right then. As it was, Hades was on a run, and half the club was either coked out, or doing their own thing. Fuck this piece of shit life. Hades made it seem glorious, but there was no brotherhood here. I didn't even flinch at the loss as I rode away.

I’d made a plan to find Mouse. I took the info Dirk had given me and went over it again starting with the caseworker. I rode to her last caseworker’s house. The house was a dump and there was at least five kids running around her yard. She was hard, not a soft bone in her body. I asked about Mouse. The bitch didn't remember her. “I have dozens of kids cross my desk each month. You think I can remember one from a year ago?”

I pleaded with her to remember, I had a picture from the fucking yearbook that I showed her, but she didn’t know and she wasn't her case worker anymore. She gave me group homes to check, but after that meeting, I felt lost. It seemed that my Mouse just disappeared. I rode from one nothing town to the next, searching out group homes, but the truth was, she could be anywhere.

After a year of scouring the entire state of Ohio, I lost hope. So, I lost myself in a hole in the wall bar until I needed money, then I’d find a fight or do what I needed to do to get by. I wasn't always proud of how I was surviving, but I’d do what I had too.

Old Crow and any other cheap whiskey I could find became my Breakfast of Champions. I fucked occasionally, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing felt like the sweet I remembered. I let down the one person I’d made promises too, and fuck if I didn’t hate myself a little for it.

So, I fought, and I fucked, and I found myself so deep in the gutter I didn’t recognize myself any longer. I blamed Hades Runners. I blamed my Ma. But mostly, I blamed myself. Hate was a feeling I let build around my heart. I got a reputation for being cruel. I never let up on my opponents in the ring, and if you looked at me twice, I didn't hesitate to show you who the fuck I was.

Except, the whiskey not only made me numb, at times, it made me dumb. I was set to fight a new guy. A guy, that in the past I’d do my research on, but tonight I was too blitzed and my ego was too big, that I didn’t care.

Shane Dunaway with his blonde hair that fell over his eyes, wasn’t quite as big as me, but he was faster. I should’ve been able to beat him, but the three-day bender I’d been on had me slower than normal. I hadn’t had my ass handed to me by someone so quickly in a long time. When the fight was over, instead of leaving me on the concrete floor, he took me by the hand and helped me up.