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"Bryant –" He paused. "I know I'm probably the last voice you wanna hear on your answering machine, but I desperately need your help right now." A breathy sigh blew through the speaker. "I'm at my wits end and I have no idea what to do with him."

I stared at the device – my hand curled against my mouth as his words flowed through my living room. "The drugs are constant – he's high 24/7 – Half the time I don't even know if he's alive or dead when I get into his room. It's not just him – they're all fucked – but he's the only one with one foot in the casket."

How he got my number remained a mystery. They made him millions of dollars – more money than the man could even count – yet he was calling me about his issue. From the beginning, I told him that it would only get worse. The guy had issues way before he formed Motley – way before the money and fame came into the picture. Sure - he dabbled in drugs before hitting peak stardom, but the money was there, and he was a kid in a candy store.

"I know the two of you ended on such a sour note, but I feel like you're the only one that can truly help him get out of this fucking mess. He needs you – I – we all need you, Bryant." He went on to leave the number to the hotel they were staying at for the night. Begging one last time for my help. I must've played the damn message 10 times – each time making my anger rise. Doc was the one who let it get to this point – he fueled the fire when it should've been sprayed out years ago. He pushed the drugs in their direction – Nikki was always a step ahead though. He attracted the slime that had the harder, faster drugs. The drugs that would make him feel nothing when in reality his whole fucking world was crumbling down...

I continued to move the spoon around the cup, the sugar long dissolved by now. I was so lost in my own thought – Doc's words swirling around in my brain.

"You're thinking about going, aren't you?" The brunette in front of me asked. "I know that look and that look tells me that you're giving in."

Hannah Hastings was the first person I met when I moved to South Carolina. She was an event planner – a free spirit in a Dynasty like world. She would spend hours on my couch, a bottle of wine being shared, as I spilled my entire life story into her lap. She knew all about my history with Nikki – how we met – our marriage – and the demise of our relationship.

I let out a sigh, "I don't wanna go but something's telling me that if I don't –" I paused. "If I don't go, he's gonna end up dead and then I'll be blaming myself. At least if I go and say I tried and I don't succeed, I won't beat myself up if something does happen to him. Like – It's not even a matter of if – it's a matter of when."

"He was such an asshole though, Bryant. The man was toxic to you-"She reached across the table taking my hand in hers. "I don't want to see you get hurt or worse. You know how drug addicts are – he could get violent and not even realize it until it's too late."

During the three years we were together, he never laid a hand on me. I was the one who had the heavy touch. Sure, we had awful arguments that pushed me to the point of slapping and pushing him away, but he always stormed off before touching me. The drugs at the time weren't as hardcore as they are now though. I could walk in his house and come back out with a bullet hole this time. Hannah was right – drugs fucked with people's brain – I'm sure Nikki was already there.

"Are you gonna tell Wyatt?"

I slumped back in my seat at the thought of telling my Uncle Wyatt. To say he hated Nikki would be an understatement. He warned me from the beginning that Nikki Sixx would be nothing but trouble, but I didn't listen. He was used to guys like Nikki – being a kid from the wrong side of the tracks himself. He made a promise that he would do everything he could to protect me from men like Nikki. We only had each other and when Nikki came into the picture, the worst type of thoughts ran through his head. He knew what guys like Nikki did to girls like me – innocent until proven insane. It happened to my mother – her infatuation sending her straight to the grave.

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