“Fear isn’t a weakness; it’s what makes us human.”

When I’d come out here tonight after finishing up a bike late at the garage, I’d never in a million years expected this. I’d never expected to run into a girl who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, despite being scared of me.

We didn’t break eye contact—I couldn’t. It was like this girl had reached into my mind and taken ahold of a part of me that I was still trying to figure out. No one had ever done that before.

The sound of an approaching car made us glance towards the street. A red Civic was slowly driving down the road, and from the way Estella stiffened, I could tell this was her brother.

“I guess your ride’s here.” The sound of my voice seemed to rouse her and she turned back to me with wide eyes. “I’ll see you around, Stelle.”

Her eyes never left me as I stepped back into the shadows. When the Civic pulled up, she hurried towards it but paused once she opened up the door. She briefly glanced back and sought me out in the darkness, but I knew she couldn’t really see me.

Still, it felt like a current had shot through my entire body, leaving me momentarily stunned, as I watched her search for me. Finally, she gave up and got into the car.

My eyes followed the beat-up car as it drove past and disappeared down the road. Letting out a long breath, I pulled another cigarette out and lit it up.

As I inhaled the smoke, it settled amongst my throat and lungs, calming me. My heart rate went back to normal as I leaned back against the wall, trying to forget about Estella’s whiskey eyes.

She was something else, that Estella. She was something I wasn’t used to; something I’d never experienced before.

It was like my life was on this set path already determined by my brothers, and all of a sudden Estella had run me off the road into a ditch. That’s how I felt right now. That’s what the effects of being close to her did to me. Now, I had to claw my way back into the real world and return to my life.

Feeling pissed at myself for letting a girl affect me like that, I started to head back to the garage that I ran with my brothers. My bike was back there and I had a fight to get to.

“Who was that?”

The voice came out of nowhere, but it was as familiar to me as my own. My brother, Tyson ambled towards me. He was twenty-two, only two years older than me, but sometimes I felt like he was the younger one. He was so reckless, so stupid, and took orders from our eldest brother, Ryder, without question.

Sure, I listened to Ryder too, but lately I’d been starting to wonder if Ryder was really making the best choices for us. Just because he was my big brother didn’t mean he was always right.

I tried to look unconcerned as I took another puff of my cigarette and looked at Tyson squarely. He was a lot leaner than I was but, man, was he was fast. During fights he’d be running circles around the other guy.

“Just some hooker,” I lied. “Told her no, so she found some other guy.”

Tyson leaned forward eagerly, rubbing his hands together. “How much was she asking for?”

Fuck. Of all the stories I could’ve made up, I had to pick the only one my brother would actually care about.

“Two hundred bucks.”

“Fuck off! I could get the works for one-fifty.” Tyson looked outraged as I handed him my cigarette and he took a long puff from it. “Besides, she wasn’t even dressed decent. Amateur.”

“Yeah, I think she was.” I swallowed, a bitter feeling in my mouth.

There was a part of me that wanted to protect Estella. She was so innocent, so naïve, and I didn’t want her drawing unnecessary attention to herself. Don’t ask me why I cared so much. I had no fucking clue.

Tyson looked excited as he lightly punched me on the arm, bouncing from side to side. “You ready for the fight tonight, little bro? Gonna win us some big bucks?”

I shrugged, watching Tyson flick the cigarette onto the ground and pull out his phone. “Did they give a time and place?”

He nodded. “Yep, the field past the Wilkins’ house in an hour.”

Shit. One hour. That was all the time I had to mentally prepare myself to beat the crap out of some sad son of a bitch.

That’s what I did. Once a week without fail, I fought in amateur fights originally set up by my boys and the Allbrook Gang. Over the years, the fights had become bigger, any guy wanting to make some quick cash entered—even if he had no ties to either gang—and the stakes were higher. There was a lot more money to gain if you won and a lot more money to lose if you got your ass beat.

Ryder had been one of first guys to start fighting, but over the years he had resigned himself to a coaching position and I had taken over as his key player. There weren’t many fights I’d lost—in fact, only three in my entire amateur career. Lately, I was winning all of them. Guys would come from out of town just to fight me, but I handed them their ass on a platter and sent them packing.

For this reason, Ryder loved me. He loved me because, just like Tyson, I followed him without question. With the three of us as a unit, no one dared to try and stand up to us.

See, the thing was, we weren’t just in the Madden gang, we were Maddens. We were the three Madden brothers, and Ryder had been the one to start the gang. No one dared question him. He was the authority around these parts and I was his muscle. With me by his side, everyone gave Ryder the respect he demanded.

“C’mon, little bro, get your bike and let’s get the hell outta here. We don’t wanna be late.”

Tyson was already climbing onto his bike, and I nodded towards the garage that was a few feet away. “You go on. My bike’s in the shop. I’ll get it and follow you.”

Tyson folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Not happening, little bro. I’m under strict orders to guard you ‘til we get there.” He unfolded a hand and patted his back pocket as though to reassure me. That was where he kept his gun.

He’d started carrying it around with him everywhere ever since a bunch of the guys from the Allbrook gang had tried to knock me off before a fight. Since then, Ryder made sure that someone was always with me before every fight just in case anyone was stupid enough to try the same thing again.

See, the thing was, a lot of money was spent on bets. Since I was the key fighter and I rarely lost, the competition tried to play dirty and get rid of me before the fight even began. That way, I was a no-show and they won the money without even raising a fist. Amateur fights were a dirty business.

“Fine,” I said with a shrug, “wait here. I’ll be back.”

“Uh-huh,” Tyson said, inclining on the bike as he waited for me.

I walked past him and around the corner to where the garage stood next to some ugly ass warehouse building that was run-down. The garage was where me and my brothers worked during the day fixing up cars and bikes. We had to keep up some sort of façade that we worked respectable jobs. Like that was fooling anyone. Everyone knew who we were and what we really did. The Madden gang was synonymous with drug dealing, amateur fighting, and crime.

On the other side of the ugly ass warehouse building was the community center where I’d just met Estella.

Just the thought of her, sent this strange feeling shooting through me, like I’d just injected myself with adrenaline. I was a fucking moron. In my world, it was ‘bros before hos’. I had to stop thinking about some random girl and start focusing on the fight that was to come.

My bike was parked just outside the shop—a 1999 Suzuki Hayabusa. The Hayabusa was my baby. It was my life. All the money I made from fights had gone into buying it, then restoring it, and now maintaining it. The Hayabusa was my lifeline.

I climbed on and kick started the engine. The bike came to life beneath my hands and despite everything, I smiled. I smiled because this bike was just about the most important thing to me. Apart from Dylan.

There was a helmet hanging off the back of the bike, but I never wore it. Helmets were for pussies and I figured if I died then I died.

I drove around the corner and found Tyson exactly where I’d left him, except his bike was idling now and he was gearing up ready to go. He threw me a sly grin as I came up beside him and I knew what that look meant. He wanted to race.

Throttling the engine, I nodded my head at him and sped off. I could hear him coming up behind me but his bike didn’t sound as smooth as mine. I’d put a lot of love into my Haybusa and I knew she would never lose in a race.

There was a cold chill seeping through my body as the wind whipped past me, frigid and unyielding. I’d forgotten that I’d given my jacket to Estella, and now I was freezing my ass off.

Lesson learned: don’t ever get on a bike unless you have a jacket on, moron.

Tyson easily fell behind and once we were out of the town and heading down the lone, long road to the Wilkins’ farm, I shifted into fourth gear and sped up even more. The usual thirty minutes flew by and we reached the outer lying field within twenty minutes.

By the time I was pulling up beside the other bikes and cars parked along the side of the road, I could hear all the noise coming from somewhere in the field. That’s why the location of the fights changed every week. We weren’t afraid of law enforcement—I think they were more afraid of us—but we still didn’t want to take too many chances.

Tyson pulled up next to me and shot me a glare as he turned off the engine and got off his bike. “Not fair. Wait until I get this all redone. Bigger sprockets on the front, smaller ones on the back, and this baby will be whipping your ass, little bro.”