He woke strapped to a gurney in a Los Angeles psychiatric ward.

It wasn’t even close to his lowest point.

A boy raised on the Isle of Man grows up on stories of Vikings, conquest, and the quiet expectation that men take what they want. When his family collapses, that idea hardens into something more dangerous.

What follows spans three continents and a single, unexamined belief. Football dreams give way to drinking, then to crack pipes beneath London’s bridges, steroids, and a series of increasingly elaborate reinventions.

In Auckland, a chance encounter with a supermodel offers what passes for proof. A way out. A way up. California follows—mansions, money, and entry into a world he once viewed from the outside.

It changes nothing.

The promise is always the same: success, status, women, control. Each time, it delivers the opposite.

The breakdown, when it comes, is not surprising. Only overdue.

Hunting Concrete Lions.

Because the most dangerous thing a man can inherit is the story he tells himself.