I’m in a town. Right? That’s what it looks like anyway. But this place—It doesn’t ring a damn bell. Which is weird, considering I’ve practically got my city tattooed into my brain. Every corner, every shortcut, every busted streetlight—I know it all. But this? This is uncharted territory. Perfect.

I stumble, barely catching myself on a thick-ass tree trunk. I grit my teeth, biting back a hiss as a sharp pain tears through my side. Again. I glance down. Shot wound’s still bleeding—bright red and sticky, soaking through my palm. I curse under my breath, trying to keep calm, but the ragged sound of my breathing gives me away. Hoarse. Heavy. I’m running on fumes.

God knows how long I’ve been out here, wandering. Ever since Leroy caught wind of my little errand, his loyal lapdogs have been on my ass like hellhounds. Yeah, maybe I stole his Porsche. Big deal. Hell, his boys are the ones who totaled the damn thing—not me. They shot out both tires, and I crashed it clean into a ditch.

Lucky for me, there was a slope. Dark and steep. I rolled, crawled—whatever the hell I did to get outta sight. Adrenaline did the heavy lifting back then. Took me a while to even realize I’d been shot.

At least I’m far from the cops—for now. I just need to figure out where the hell I am. And find a damn phone. Something. I need to call Axl. He might be able to pick me up… even with the kid in tow.

“Fuck!—” I curse under my breath, another wave of pain ripping through my side. I’ve been shot before, but this one burns different. Feels deep. Like it’s chewing me up from the inside. I push off the tree, limping down a dead, dim street.

Store. I need a store. I don’t care if it’s midnight—I just need something. Water. God, I need water.

I let out a shaky, frustrated groan. Cursing myself, the universe—hell, maybe God himself. Does He really hate me this much?

My legs give. I drop beside a light pole, slumping against the cold metal. Uncomfortable as hell, but I don’t care. I shut my eyes. Just for a second. Just to breathe…

…Something smells sweet. Bread? No—sourdough?

I stir, eyes blinking open to soft light and unfamiliar surroundings. Not the street anymore. A ceiling. Faint humming. Something warm under me. I shift, pain flaring instantly in my side.

Shit.

I’m lying on a couch. A beat-up one. There’s a blanket over me. Someone’s place. Not mine. I glance around—No sign of my gun. No sign of who brought me here.

I grit my teeth, jaw tight. Where the hell am I?