chapter1
372 Words
Rain hammered against the bus window as I stared at the sleepy little town that was supposed to save me.
Black Creek.
The kind of place where people minded their own business, where secrets stayed buried, and where girls like me disappeared without a single question.
Exactly what I needed.
I tightened my grip on my duffle bag as the bus hissed to a stop in front of a dimly lit bar. A glowing neon sign flickered unsteadily above the entrance: HELL’S THROTTLE.
Bad sign.
The moment I stepped off the bus, the heavy scent of gasoline, leather, and cigarette smoke wrapped around me.
Then, I felt it.
Eyes. Watching me.
A heavily tattooed man leaned against a black motorcycle across the street. His dark gaze locked onto me, heavy and piercing, as if he already owned me.
And somehow… that terrified me more than the man I was running from.
I should’ve kept walking. That was my first mistake.
The biker pushed himself off the motorcycle slowly, his boot scraping against the wet pavement as thunder echoed above us. Every instinct screamed at me to run.
But I was so damn tired of running.
“You lost, sweetheart?” His deep voice rumbled through the storm.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “Just looking for a motel.”
His eyes dragged over me slowly—cold, dangerous, and utterly unreadable. Then, his jaw tightened.
“Who hurt you?”
The question caught me completely off guard. I forced out a dry laugh. “Do you ask that to every stranger?”
“No,” he muttered, taking a slow step closer. “Just the ones who look terrified.”
My heart pounded violently against my ribs. Because he was right. I was terrified. But not of him—I was terrified of the man who was probably still hunting me down.
Suddenly, the loud roar of an engine shattered the night from the end of the street.
That man’s expression darkened instantly.
And for the first time that night, he looked dangerous enough to kill.
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