Page 52 of Blackout-

“The six of you stay out here,” Jack says, pointing to Stryker, Cobra, Deuce, Linc, Bas and Needles.

“You sure you don’t want me to go in there with you? I speak Spanish,” Deuce offers.

“So, does Blackie,” Riggs taunts, cocking his head to the side as he stares at me. I remove the sunglasses from my face and meet his gaze. The guy forgets I’m nothing if not a seasoned, functioning addict. I’ve done more scores fucked up than I’ve done them straight.

Seeming satisfied with my appearance, he gives me a curt nod.

“These little taco loving motherfuckers aren’t going to get over with their native tongue.”

Bas and Jack exchange a few words as the sweat continues to drip off my body. I feel my pulse quicken and I stop myself from swaying. Forcing my head into the game, I look at Jack.

“Let’s get this over with,” I tell him.

Together, with Pipe, we close the distance between us and the Sinaloa cartel. Jack greets Javier and we start for the abandoned factory. As we reach the door, I stop in my tracks and watch as Javier enters the building.

“You sure about this?” I ask without looking at Jack.

“No turning back now,” he replies all too confidently and drapes an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go, Black, the Devil awaits.”

The first time I got clean, I kept a small stash of drugs in a drawer in my room at the clubhouse. It was for security purposes. Drugs were all I knew. They were my fucking life. Everything centered around getting high. When I say I’m a seasoned, functioning addict, I’m not lying. There was a time in my life when I couldn’t function if I wasn’t high. I couldn’t ride, I couldn’t fuck, I couldn’t think. I didn’t think I’d survive without poison.

One day I opened the drawer, and I took out the needle and the bag of heroin, ready to melt it and inject it into my bloodstream. The tourniquet was tied around my arm and my vein was popped and ready to go. The longer I stared at the drugs and the needle, the more I hated the sight of them.

In that moment, I had lost the desire.

I was done.

I didn’t want to function on dope. I wanted to remember how it felt to live. I wanted to learn how to live through the good and the bad. To feel joy and cope with pain. I didn’t want to run no more. I didn’t want to hide from my feelings or escape my truths.

I didn’t remember life without drugs but right then and there, I wanted to live the rest of my life making it count for something.

I untied the tourniquet and flushed the drugs down the toilet. I got clean for a little while and then I realized my life still didn’t count for shit. As long as I was a member of the Satan’s Knights, I’d never do any kind of good. We make excuses for ourselves. We hide behind acts of vigilante justice but at the end of the day, we’re no better than the motherfuckers we’re meeting here today.

We’re supplying them with guns, guns they’ll likely push onto the streets and into the hands of the misguided youth. Their drugs will find the weak. Someone’s son. Someone’s daughter. Maybe a young mother who can’t clean up her act. They’ll kill and we’ll turn our heads. We’ll argue it’s not our business, that we got what we bargained for. We’ll look at Mac and Ryder and say it was worth it.

Lifting my head, I push the fallen strands away from my face and stare at the door.

Like the drugs lost their desire, following Jack into the depths of hell has too.

Turning to him, I meet his gaze and deliver him the truth.

“Pipe ain’t the only one here who is going to be a father,” I rasp. “Lacey’s pregnant.” I let the words sink in for the both of us and I realize, in that moment, I’m done.

There’s more to life than this shit.

“One more time, Parrish,” I croak. “Are you sure about this?”

“No, I’m not,” he replies, staring at me. “But it’s too late now.”

Sadly, he’s right.

It’s too late for change.

He pulls a pair of rosary beads out from under his shirt and I watch as his thumb traces the cross.

It’s too late for prayers.

We make our way inside the paper factory and Jack starts to negotiate with Javier. Ignoring my incessant racing heart, I struggle to keep up with everything going on around me. Suddenly one of Javier’s men comes running into the factory and all eyes turn to him as his hand slices across his throat, signaling for Javier to pump the brakes.

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