Prologue

PROLOGUE

RIOT

Age fifteen

I stare down at my father's lifeless body. Dread floods through me, but not for the dead bastard lying in front of me. For my mom. My sister. I've shot a gun plenty of times on the farm, but I've never turned the gun on an actual person before.

I thought I'd feel different.

Shaky.

Nervous.

Afraid.

But I didn't have time for any of those emotions. I acted on instinct. My beautiful, long-suffering mother is dead because of him, and then he turned the gun on my sister, Lace. My mom's body in her bed, my sister…

"Myles."

My heart leaps in my chest. "Lace!" I sprint toward the back porch, where my sister was sitting reading before my dad started his shooting spree. I checked her before… My legs can't carry me fast enough. "Oh my God, Lace!"

I pull her into my arms as I check her vitals. She's weak, but she's alive. I lay her back down, the gunshot wound is right above her heart, but clearly it missed. Still, blood pools around her white tank and she's pale, really freaking pale.

I gently place her back down in the chair and run to the phone. I'm about to call 911 when the front door to our home burst open.

"What the—" Charles Carlton's voice trails off. "Melissa? Kids? Jesus, fuck!"

"Charles?" I stammer. He's our neighbor, he must've heard the gunshots.

"What the fuck happened?" he barks.

"Dad." I manage. "He… I got home and he was loading the shotgun, then he went out and… Lace is… she's still…" I can't even finish. I heave, unable to take it anymore.

"Call an ambulance, boy." He stalks off, stepping over my dad's body to the back porch. I hear him cuss as I dial and do exactly what he says. Now my hands are shaking. My sister is still breathing, and after what that monster did, it'll be a miracle if she survives this.

"Myles, come out here." I do as he says. Charles is hovering over my sister's body, pressing a piece of the blanket she was wrapped in on her shoulder. "Hold the pressure there. Your mother?"

I shake my head. He runs a hand over his face.

"I killed him," I say, like it isn't obvious. Dad didn't shoot himself in the head with his own gun. "My dad."

Charles grunts. "Best place for 'im is six feet under."

It's no secret my dad and Charles never got along. In fact, in one of my dad's drunken rages he accused my mom of having an affair with Charles, which wasn't true. My mom, for whatever reason, was loyal to my dad. He just didn't like it that she was pretty and other men took notice.

I swallow hard. "What do we do now?"

His fierce eyes find mine. "You wanna go into the system?"

I frown. "The system?"

"Cops are gonna be here soon, they're gonna see the carnage. They're gonna have questions. It's self-defense, but you're not an adult yet."

"I'm sixteen in four weeks."

He shakes his head. "You go to school?"

I've never liked school, but I drag my sorry ass there most days. When my dad needed me, I stayed at home to work on the farm. "Yeah, but I hate it."

"Then you work for me."

I frown. "What?"

"I can put a roof over your head until you graduate."

"Why would you do that?"

He stares down at me. "I've been there. Stuck in the system. Trust me, it ain't no place you wanna be."

"What about Lace? She's thirteen."

"She needs to get through this first."

My dad gambled away all our money, which is why our house isn't worth a nickel. It's rundown, old and barely standing. My mom did her best and always kept it clean, but you can only do so much with warped material, a leaky roof, and no heating.

My sister doesn't seem coherent anymore, but she's still breathing. "Will she be okay?"

He flicks his eyes to her. "I don't know, son, but we gotta ask the Almighty for help."

I open my mouth and close it again. Then, "Like, God?"

He gives me a look. "You've never been to church?"

"Mom took us at Christmas and Easter, but Dad didn't like that."

He grunts. "Figures. For what it's worth, I'm sorry, kid. You got a raw deal with Langdon as a father; not that you could call him that."

I close my eyes and do as Charles suggested; ask the Almighty for help. It feels weird; it's not like I've ever really spoken to God or asked him for anything. But I'll do and say what I have to if it means there's a chance for Lace.

A cold sweat comes over me. "Will she be okay?" I don't know if I already asked him that or why I trust this man I barely know.

"Just keep holdin' on. Don't let go."

None of it feels real.

I didn't know what kind of influence that one sentence would have on me from that day on.

Just keep holdin' on. Don't let go.

I don't know if it was that; my sister's fighting spirit, or if we got lucky with the doctors in emergency, but Lace survived.

Officially, we were orphans, and since all our relatives lived out of state, we're destined to be a ward of the state and under the jurisdiction of the courts. Charles applied to foster us, and I was relieved when it was granted. I don't know why he wanted to help us so much at that point in time, but later I'd come to understand.

When Lace was out of the hospital, we took the little we had to Charles' home; a much larger farmhouse than ours, with heating and a bedroom each for me and my sister. The one stipulation the old man had was that we both finish school. I had to get good grades, and then I could help him on the farm, or find work somewhere else. Kids like us didn't go to college.

I stared at the old, dirty floors. This house and everything left in it felt empty, just like the heart inside me that still beats but can't feel a thing.

Nobody came to clean up the blood. The outline of my father's body was still right there on the linoleum floor. I didn't let my sister inside. I told her I'd get all of her things. The day me and Charles went back was traumatic, but it had to be done…

"Jesus," Charles says. "Shouldn't have to revisit this."

I stare at the floor, unable to look away. I don't know how long we stand there for, but Charles' hand squeezes my shoulder. "You want a match?"

I turn to look up at him and frown. "A match?"

"To burn this motherfuckin' shithole down."

It's the first time, aside from that night, that I've heard him swear. He never does around Lace, for which I am grateful, not that she hasn't heard all the terrible things our father called our mother.

I nod. "Yeah."

"Get everything valuable. Then we'll set this bitch on fire."

For the first time in months, I smile. Really smile.

We stand out front an hour later, the house up in flames. The memories that went with it are all up in smoke and I promise that I'll never forget my dear, sweet mother. Her love, kindness and gentleness will stay with me always, even through the toughest times of my life.

Deep down, I never wanted to do anything except make her proud, but life has a funny way of working out.

Life was only about to test me, and I had no clue what was to come…