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a small part of me wondered if this life I had chosen was actually worth the pain I inflicted on others.
My husband was dead.
"I can't believe you're here," she said after a few minutes of silence. "It's been a year since you disgraced me and tried to destroy my career. Now you're in my bedroom the day I buried my husband."
I decided right there in her driveway. One year to grieve. Then I was coming back to claim my woman.
Hope is mine. Permanently.
You'll never be happy if you're always trying to please other people's idea of what you should be."
Wrath and I go way back. We’ve been friends since I found him living on the street as a teenager, supporting himself by beating the shit out of people in unsanctioned, underground fights. Two years younger than me, he’s the closest I have to a blood brother, which also probably explains why half the time I want to kick his ass.
"Hope is off limits to you. I am not fucking around on this. You ever look at her in
anything other than a friendly way, and I will fuck you up. You treat her with respect."
