Brittany's POV

Present Day, Age 25

The relentless shrill of my alarm jerks me awake, yanking me out of the dream that clings stubbornly to my consciousness. Or was it more of a memory? I groan, groping for the snooze button to silence the incessant beeping before letting my arm slump back onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling, I let the remnants of the dream swirl in my thoughts.

Nearly ten years have passed since I last saw them—those five people who, once upon a time, meant everything to me. And yet, here I am, dreaming about them again like some cruel prank my subconscious loves to play.

It probably resurfaces because those fleeting years were the only time in my life I ever felt genuinely happy, or even safe. But I wish the dreams would stop. Every night, I'm reminded of what I've lost, and it chips away at me. It turns even the good memories into something that hurts just as much as the bad ones. Still, if I had to choose, I’d prefer remembering them over...

I physically shake my head, severing the dark thoughts before they take root. No. I’m not letting myself spiral, not first thing in the morning. Not ever, if I can manage it.

With a heavy breath, I peel myself off the mattress and shuffle toward the bathroom. My apartment, small as it is, suits me well enough. It’s just me in this space—well, me and Biscuit, my perpetually curious black cat. I found him behind the diner where I work, nibbling on a discarded stick of butter that had missed the dumpster. He was just a scrawny, injured kitten back then, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. My little butter thief and only real friend in the world.

I’m polite enough with the women I work with at the diner—friendly, even, except with Aisby. But friendliness has limits. I’ve lived enough to know that forming bonds, trusting people, often leads to heartbreak, betrayal, or worse. It’s hard to unlearn that kind of lesson. So, while loneliness gnaws at me, I wear it like armor. At least, when I’m alone, there’s no pain that isn’t self-inflicted.

But solitude comes with its own weight, and some days, I feel every pound of it.

I exhale slowly, taking in my tired reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes meet mine, the telltale evidence of crying in my sleep. Again. I can barely bring myself to acknowledge why I was crying. A dream—a memory—of all things.

Back then, when I was thirteen, those five were my world. They could do no wrong in my eyes. Orien, in particular, had a way of making me feel seen when no one else ever did.

That dream brought me back to the day Orien broke the news. The clubhouse gathering was actually his family’s going-away party, something even he hadn’t known until that night. His dad, heavily involved in the motorcycle club, had decided to relocate for a new chapter—something about chasing opportunities tied to an MMA scene in another state. And though we promised each other during that party to stay in touch—to never lose the connection we had—it all fell apart anyway.

We spent that entire evening crammed into Kaelith’s room, holding on to the illusion that we could stop time. We laughed. We cried. We spoke big, wide-eyed promises of forever. Promises that would eventually shatter into pieces none of us could put back together. Just kids and their impossible delusions.

Orien didn’t keep his promise. He never wrote to me, never messaged, never connected in any way. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe my connection to the others made keeping in touch too complicated. Or maybe he just forgot about me. Outgrew me. I wouldn’t blame him. We were only children then—it’s easy to care deeply when life is simple. And it’s just as easy to let go when it isn’t.

My thoughts tug further into the past, into the many moments I ignored the warnings. My mother used to drive me home from the clubhouse, and at the time, I thought nothing of it. I accepted it. I was too distracted by being allowed to stay over, too distracted by the joy of those friendships. It wasn’t until her engagement to Thorne that I saw the larger picture—the lingering glances between them, the convenient timing of their conversations, the familiarity she shared with the club’s enforcer.

If only I’d had the foresight to question everything sooner.

Thorne took on the role of stepfather like a pro—always kind, never giving me a reason to doubt him. But his kindness couldn’t shield me from the domino effect his marriage triggered. Living with someone you once called your best friend sounds dreamy on paper. In practice, it was a nightmare. Familiar faces turned cold, loyalties shifted, and the life I thought I could trust unraveled fast. Scheming changes everything.

Ripping my gaze from the mirror, I strip down and step into the scalding shower. The water burns against my skin, but I welcome the sting. It keeps me in the present. I need out of my head. Thinking about the club, the guys, my mom—it’s all useless noise. They belong to a past I refuse to carry any longer.

That chapter is closed. The MC and its tangled web of lies. My so-called friends who turned their backs on me. My mother, too absorbed in her own fairy tale to see reality. My absentee father, who was never more than a fleeting shadow in my life.

And most of all...

I’m leaving behind the violence of my marriage and the scars my ex left—scars that run deeper than I let anyone see.