Page 16 of Beast
Chapter Six
The music thumped lowthrough the walls, the usual buzz of voices and laughter dulled by the late hour.Pixie moved between tables with practiced ease, tray balanced on her hip, a warm smile tucked in the corner of her mouth.
She’d learned how to keep her head down without looking weak, how to charm without inviting the wrong kind of attention.The Iron Sentinels clubhouse might’ve been loud and rough, but so far, it had been safe.
Until tonight.She felt it before she saw it.A shift in the air, like the way animals go quiet just before a storm.
It prickled down her spine, made her fingers tighten around the tray she was carrying.Beast was near the entrance, talking to someone she didn’t recognize—a man in a dark hoodie and jeans, face shadowed by the low light.
Pixie slowed, heart ticking faster.The man didn’t look like a biker.Didn’t feel like one either.His stance was too tight, too focused.And when he leaned in to murmur something to Beast, Beast’s posture changed.
Pixie didn’t hear what was said.But Beast’s jaw clenched hard, his shoulders stiffened, and then—just briefly—his eyes flicked to her.Fear cracked through her chest like ice.
She ducked behind the bar, forcing her breath to slow even as her thoughts scrambled.Is it him?Did he find me?Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else.
A moment later, Beast came around the bar.His expression was calm, too calm, like a fire held just beneath the surface.He reached for her arm, firm but careful.
“Pix,” he said, low enough only she could hear.“Go to my office.Lock the door.Stay out of sight.”
“Who is that?”she whispered, already knowing.Her knees wobbled.
“Just go,” he said, sharper now.Not out of anger, but urgency.
Pixie didn’t argue.She slipped through the crowd, every step like walking through mud, her legs barely working.She hated this.Hated the way fear twisted her stomach into knots, the way her hands shook as she turned the lock in Beast’s office door.
The room was dark, save for the desk lamp.She sat on the edge of the couch, arms wrapped tight around herself.Her mind spun, dragging her back to that awful night—blood on the floor, Brad’s eyes flat and cold, the gun in his hand.Her brother’s best friend.Her brother’s killer.
She hadn’t realized how safe she’d started to feel here.Not completely.Not enough to let her guard down—but enough to start breathing again.Enough to forget, just for a moment, that someone out there still wanted her dead.
The doorknob rattled lightly, and she flinched hard—only to hear Beast’s voice.
“It’s me.”
She opened the door just a crack, saw his face, and let out a shaky breath before pulling it wide.
“He asked about you,” Beast said, closing the door behind him.“Didn’t give a name.Said he was looking for a girl—mid-twenties, short brown hair, blue eyes.Said she owed him something.”
Pixie’s stomach dropped.
