Page 1 of Beast
Chapter One
Pixie Marlowe joltedawake with a sharp gasp, her body thrumming with adrenaline before she even knew where she was.Her breath hitched, chest rising and falling too fast, the nightmare still clinging to her like a second skin.No.Not a nightmare.A memory.
She could still feel the key sticking in the lock, still hear the scrape of metal as she jiggled it, just like every other night.But this night had been different.
The second the door swung open, the air had turned thick—wrong.A sickly, coppery scent filled her nose, thick enough to coat her tongue.
Then she’d seen it.The body sprawled in the middle of the living room.Lifeless and motionless.Blood soaked into the cheap rug beneath it, spreading in a slow, silent crawl.And Brad.
Her dead brother’s best friend stood over the body like he belonged there, fingers curled around the grip of a gun.Casual.Like it wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this.His gaze lifted to hers, dark eyes unreadable—and then he smiled.That slow, lazy smirk that made her stomach twist with dread.
“You’re home early, Pix.”
A scream built in her throat, but she never let it out.
Because she had run.
Pixie gasped again, dragging herself into the present.Her fingers curled into the thin blanket beneath her, her pulse hammering so hard it made her vision swim.It took a long moment before she realized where she was.
Not the apartment.Not with Brad.
She was in her tent, hidden in the thick trees at the edge of the park, where no one paid attention to the homeless or the forgotten.
Her back ached from the unforgiving ground beneath her, and her fingers were stiff from the early morning chill.The thin fabric of the tent rustled in the wind, a reminder of how exposed she was.
She exhaled shakily and pressed a hand against her forehead.She couldn’t afford to let herself spiral.The nightmares were a part of her life now—just like the running, just like the fear.She should be used to it.
But she wasn’t.Pixie rubbed at her arms, willing away the shiver that wasn’t just from the cold.She was so tired.Tired of waking up like this, tired of constantly looking over her shoulder, tired of pretending she wasn’t afraid when fear was the only thing keeping her alive.
But she couldn’t stop, because if Brad found her...
No.She refused to think about it.Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to move, shoving her few belongings into her battered backpack.Every motion was automatic, practiced.
She had done this so many times she could do it in the dark.Had done it in the dark, more than once.Thin blanket.Water bottle.Pocketknife.Money.She zipped the bag up, slinging it over her shoulder just as voices drifted through the trees.
“Yeah, told me he saw some rough-looking bikers riding in last night.Mean sons of bitches, from what he said,” one of the homeless guys nearby said to his friend.
Pixie’s breath caught.Corrigan.The old man who camped out a few tents away, who kept to himself except when he had something to say.
Bikers.The word alone sent a pulse of dread through her.It might mean nothing.Just some random MC passing through town.But she knew better than to believe in coincidences.
Brad had always bragged about his connections, about how the local club had his back.He used to smirk when he talked about it, like he knew something she didn’t.If he’d sent them to look for her—
She swallowed hard, gripping the strap of her backpack until her knuckles turned white.No time to think.No time to doubt.She had to move.
Pixie crawled out of the tent, keeping her body low, her eyes darting across the empty stretch of trees.The park was still quiet, most of the other vagrants still asleep.Even Corrigan didn’t look her way as he continued speaking in a low voice to his friend.
She forced herself to walk calmly, even as every instinct screamed at her to run.Don’t draw attention.Don’t make a sound.
She slipped past the tree line, her pulse hammering.If Brad was here—if he had sent them—then she was out of time.
****
Pixie kept her headdown as she walked, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled low over her face.The early morning air was crisp, biting at her exposed skin, but she barely felt it.
All she could focus on was the rhythmic crunch of her sneakers against the pavement and the bundle of crumpled cash in her pocket.She’d counted it twice before leaving the park.Not enough for a fresh start.Not enough for safety.But enough for a ticket out of this damn town.That was all that mattered.
She didn’t have a destination.Didn’t need one.Any place was better than here.
