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and he froze. Was he next?
    “Make him shut the fuck up before I rip his fucking head off.” Froth at the corners of his mouth turned Tiny into a raging monster.
    Before Ryder could react, the giant of a man stormed down on the lifeless body of his brother. He would probably snap Max in half with his bare hands.
    Ryder couldn’t allow him to hurt his baby brother. Max was all he had left in the world.
    He tripped Tiny. He simply stuck out his foot as the beast of a man stormed past him toward Max.
    With a heavy thud Tiny landed on the floor, screaming bloody murder as he slid toward Ryder on his stomach and grabbed his ankles. Panic flooded Ryder’s body, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest. Their survival was at stake. Max’s and his.
    Adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream, giving Ryder a burst of strength. He didn’t hesitate. Pulling the Swiss knife he had hidden in his pocket, he jabbed the giant man in the throat as he went tumbling down on top of him. Tiny’s eyes went wide and he made strange gurgling sounds.
    Tiny wrapped both hands around his throat, but nothing stopped the blood from seeping through his thick fingers. Ryder watched as the giant’s eyes glazed over, and on exhaling a heavy breath, he went completely still.
    Ryder had never seen so much blood, other than in movies. Marianne had always told the boys that it was just tomato sauce and that it wasn’t real. The blood pouring from the madman’s thick neck definitely didn’t look, or smell, anything like ketchup.
    It was then Ryder knew: Marianne had lied about everything .
    He already knew she’d lied about Santa, but he pretended he didn’t know any better, for Max’s sake. Now he’d discovered his mother had lied about ketchup being used in the movies. That could only mean one thing; it meant she had to be lying about loving them. Max and him.
    That day was the last time he saw Max as a child. Ryder was taken to juvenile court and placed in a detention centre for criminal behaviour. He’d killed a man, possibly his own father, with the pocket knife Marianne had given him two months back for his eleventh birthday.
    Unintentionally, Ryder had stabbed Tiny in the jugular. The thick vein had protruded angrily—the small knife found it’s target with ease.
    Ryder could have handled everything, even being called a coldblooded murderer, if only his mom had come back to help him.
    But Marianne never came. It was as if she had wiped her hands off Ryder and Max.
    And now he, Ryder Knox, had blood on his hands.

Chapter 8 ~ Ryder
    The life I lived in that center, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Because I was the youngest, I was the target of every other boy. They called me their bitch and raped me up the ass. I didn’t even know boys could do that with their dicks. I always thought that men only liked sticking it into women. Like I’d seen it done to Marianne countless times.
    Boy, was I wrong.
    My life became a living hell. With every passing day my hopes that Marianne would come and bail me out and take me away from the god awful place diminished. The light in my eyes dimmed along with my spirit. How could she not care what happened to me? How could she let me suffer at the hands of these boys? Why did my mom no longer love me?
    I knew I had done wrong, but I also knew I didn’t deserve this life.
    A year later and life in this hellhole hadn’t gotten any better. I found myself cornered in the shower by a group of three boys, their dicks hard, sneers on their pimply faces. With every grain of strength, I fought back, only to be sliced across my cheek and eyebrow by a switchblade knife. I fell to my knees, clutching my cheek—warm blood oozed through my fingers. Hot and sticky.
    Blood poured down over and into my eye. Everything was red. Fear gripped my heart. My throat tightened and my head started spinning.
    Today I’m going to die .
    The short fat kid with the pimply face grabbed my hair and pulled my head toward his groin,