《WULF : Gang Of Wolves - Motorcycle Romance | Dark Romance | MC Romance》Chapter One - Silvie

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I'm nothing.

That's what they say, at least. I know it isn't true. But if you hear something long enough, it's hard not to buy into it.

My entire life, nothing has been expected of me. My mom split when I was thirteen. Joey, my brother, has been in prison for more of my life than he's been out. And my dad... well, he just tries his best, I guess.

I know for everyone around me, it didn't matter if I got pregnant, or finished high school, or got a good job- whatever that means. Nothing in my life mattered to them. But it matters to me. And that's who I do it for- myself. Because even if no one cares if I have a good life, I still do.

Crystal rips open a box of instant mashed potatoes. She's Joey's girlfriend, ex-wife, and baby mama all in one. She's tall and thin with long blonde hair that's crinkly with hair gel. She was beautiful in high school, but an obvious drug user now. Thin wrinkles have already started to form around her mouth. She purses her lips and frowns, focusing hard on the three-step instructions.

Crystal and Dakon live with us. Dakon is my nephew, always has been and always will be, but Joey is the only one in this family who actually believes he's his biological son. Crystal mumbles to herself and I close my laptop, making sure to take it with me. It's the newest thing we own, and even that is still old.

I worked all summer my senior year of high school to save for it. I know better than to leave it lying around. It'll get snatched up just like my cell phones, purses, and car radio. I hide it in my room, then lock the door, making sure it's out of Crystal's clutches.

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"Gonna go meet Dakon," I say to Crystal, who turns down the flame on the stove.

She doesn't acknowledge me. It's fine. She's in her own world half the time.

Summers in Tampa are hot and miserable. People from all over flock to Florida. To them, it's a paradise. To me, it's a humid hell hole with bugs too big to be real.

We live on the end of a dead-end street. I walk past junker cars, dead grass, and cracked pavement on my way to meet my nephew at the bus stop. Normally, he doesn't stay at school this late. Normally, he wouldn't even be in school right now... it's summer. But he's in a program called the Young Gentleman's Club. Athlete's from the city's AAA sports teams mentor the kids. They've even charted a little bus to pick them up and drop them off.

It's a cool program, but it's also how you know you're in a shitty neighborhood and a shitty school. Kids in good schools don't get stuff like that. Just shut up and be grateful. I remind myself of the motto of the poor.

The toe of my flip-flop catches on a jagged edge of the sidewalk and I stumble forward. Gaining my footing, I straighten my back and push the hair away that fell over my eyes. "You okay there, Good Girl?" Jerry asks, leaning on his chain-link fence. He gave me that nickname years ago. He means it as an insult. Whatever, Jerry.

"Fine," I say, not looking at him.

Jerry's got on a white sweat-stained tank top and faded jean shorts that are too baggy. He looks like a bad guy. Everyone in the neighborhood knows he is a bad guy. As sick as it sounds, though, I'm not worried about him. We all know that at recently eighteen, I'm too old for his preferences.

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A drop of sweat trickles down my neck. It rolls, as if it's following a path laid down by my spinal column. The vibration on the pavement alters its course.

What would make grown men wear leather and ride in the sun on a day like today? I have no clue. A herd of bikes rumbles up, stopping at the red light. The sun seems to shine the brightest on the man in the front. He's got long red brown hair that looks so shiny it's unfair. Without realizing it, I'm picking at my split ends. The stubble across his hard jaw matches his hair, and he turns to look at me. His eyes rove my body up and down and then settle on my face. My heart feels like it kicks against my ribcage. Then the god on the bike rides away.

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