Page 25 of Beast
All he could hear was his heartbeat.Roaring.Unrelenting.All he could see was Pixie—terrified, fighting, being dragged away.He gritted his teeth, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
Pixie wasn’t just some woman he was protecting anymore.She was his and Brad would soon learn he made an unforgivable mistake.
****
Beast stood at thehead of the table in the Iron Sentinels war room, fists clenched, fury simmering beneath his skin like a ticking bomb.
“She’s gone,” he growled, voice hoarse with the strain of holding back the storm.“Brad took her.”
The clubhouse erupted in snarls and curses, every patched brother rising to his feet.Chairs scraped back, boots thundered across the floor as weapons were checked and holstered, but Beast only raised a hand.
“I want every eye in this room focused.Every hand steady.We don’t make mistakes tonight.”
He turned to Techie, who was already at the monitor, fingers flying over the keyboard.
“Talk to me.”
“I pinged Pixie’s phone,” Techie said, jaw tight.“Signal’s weak, but I got a hit—abandoned gas station just outside of town.Off the old highway.Perfect place for scum like Brad to lie low.”
Beast didn’t wait for more.He grabbed his cut and weapon, holstering his gun with a look that could’ve split steel.
“Gunner,” he barked.“With me.Rest of you stay on standby until I call.”
No arguments.They all saw the look in his eyes—something feral, something that said if he didn’t get her back, someone was going to die screaming.
They took off in Beast’s truck, headlights cutting through the early morning mist.The road blurred under the tires, the speed barely registering.Beast’s knuckles were white on the wheel.His mind a red blur.If she was hurt—
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the crack of bone-on-leather loud in the cab.
“Easy,” Gunner said, low.“We’re getting her back.”
Beast didn’t respond.He couldn’t.Words would only shatter into violence.
They turned onto the dirt path leading to the rundown gas station.It sat at the edge of nowhere, sagging under rust and rot, the canopy long since collapsed over busted pumps.A single white van was parked at the back, partially hidden by a grove of dying trees.
Beast parked behind an old billboard, silently stepped out of the truck.
Two figures were visible near the van—Brad and one of his biker friends.Another stood by the station door, smoking, gun tucked in his waistband.
Inside, through the busted window, Beast caught a glimpse of a familiar petite figure.Pixie.Her hands were tied in front of her.A bruise marked her cheek, blood at the corner of her mouth.Beast’s vision tunneled.
He moved like a ghost—silent, furious.Gunner flanked right, circling toward the goon by the door.Beast went left, slipping behind a rusted-out truck.He waited until the man closest to the van turned his back, then struck.He grabbed the man from behind, one hand over his mouth, the other slicing clean across the throat with a knife he kept strapped to his boot.The body dropped soundlessly into the dirt.
Beast advanced on the next target.Gunfire erupted.Gunner had engaged, drawing the others’ attention.
Brad spun, gun in hand, screaming, “Get the girl—move!”
Pixie shrieked inside.Beast exploded from cover.He shot the biker dragging Pixie back toward the van, the man’s body jerking mid-stride before slamming to the ground.Pixie dropped, rolling out of the way.Another gun barked.Beast ducked behind a pump, bullets chewing through rust.Brad snarled from behind the van, yelling curses.
“You don’t get to take her!”Beast roared, and launched himself forward.
He closed the distance like a freight train, slamming into Brad with enough force to knock them both to the ground.The gun flew from Brad’s hand, skidding across the concrete.They wrestled, fists flying.Brad drew a knife, slashing across Beast’s side.Burning pain ripped through muscle, but Beast didn’t stop.He grabbed Brad’s wrist, twisted until the knife clattered, and drove his elbow into Brad’s face.Bone crunched.Brad roared, blood spraying from his nose.
“You think she’s yours?”Brad spat.“You don’t know what she is—what she’s running from.”
Beast saw red.He slammed Brad into the concrete, over and over, until the bastard went limp.Then, just to be sure, Beast grabbed the knife and pressed it to Brad’s throat.
“This is for touching her,” he said.
