THANE'S POV:
The cold from the concrete bench seeped straight through my bones. This was new territory for me—the inside of a holding cell, complete with the smell of piss and industrial bleach that my life before had always shielded me from.
There'd always been someone to make my problems disappear. Lawyers on speed dial. My manager who handled the ugly stuff while I slept off my hangovers on silk sheets.
Those days were buried six feet under with my career.
My back screamed against the unforgiving surface, every vertebra protesting. But it was my foot that really had me gritting my teeth—that slow, creeping fire that started in my toes and crawled up my ankle like molten lead. The pain pills were sitting in my apartment, mocking me from thirty miles away. Without them, this was goin
