Pick us back

the monster inside

I walked into a war zone. My mother was frantic, her eyes blown out as she destroyed the living room. She lunged for me, her fingers bruising my arms. "Where's my fix, Nova?"

I pushed her away, the weight of the day's secrets making me feel twice my age. "Stop it, just stop!"

Another glass flew, then a plate. "Go! Hide in your hole! I've got guests coming!" But before I could reach the stairs, she demanded her cut. The fifty-percent "mother's tax." I looked at her, seeing the hollowed-out ghost of the woman she used to be, and handed over the cash. I didn't even bother counting; I just wanted her gone.

I scrambled upstairs, brushing glass out of my hair and feeling the sting of a fresh cut on my forehead. I locked my door and leaned against it, breathing hard. The house was already starting to fill with the sounds of the "guests"-the kind of men who didn't take no for an answer.

I slumped onto the dirty floor, the cold of the wood seeping through my jeans. This room was a cage-no windows, just a stained mattress and a blanket so thin I could see the floorboards through it. I crawled over to the outlet and plugged my phone in, the screen's glow blinding in the dark.

I tapped out the message to Marcus, my fingers shaking. "How the hell did you get my number?"

The three dots appeared instantly, dancing on the screen. "Julian," the reply came. "He's a tech wizard. Found it in three minutes." >

He said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world-like privacy didn't exist when you were a target for guys like them. Below me, the first heavy thud of bass from the party rattled the floorboards.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen. "Can I have Ezra's number?" >

I didn't wait for a reply. I pried up the loose floorboard, my heart thudding as I looked at the stash. Thirteen thousand, six hundred and seventy dollars. Just a few hundred more and I could finally rent that room above the shop. I could finally be free.

The thought was shattered by a deafening crack. My door didn't just rattle-it exploded inward. My mother stood there, her eyes wild, flanked by three shadows that smelled of cheap beer and cruelty. I scrambled back, my hand blindly hitting my phone as I retreated.

"The money!" she shrieked, spotting the floorboard. She lunged, her fist connecting with my jaw, sending stars dancing across my vision. I begged her to stop, the salt of my tears mixing with the blood on my face. She just smirked, clutching the cash and looking at the men. "Take her. Consider it payment for the drugs."

Miles away, Marcus went still as the line connected. He heard the crying, the thud of the punch, and the chilling bargain. He muted himself, his face a mask of cold fury. "Julian! Find her! Now!"

Ezra skidded into the room, his eyes going wide as he heard Nova's muffled screams through the speaker. "What the f**k is happening to her?"

"I've got the address!" Julian roared, throwing the keys. They didn't speak; they moved like a single, deadly unit toward the garage.

The roar of three engines tore through the quiet neighborhood, a sound like approaching thunder. In their ears, Julian's voice was a steady, clinical contrast to the chaos, barking out turns as he tracked Nova's signal with terrifying precision. Marcus gripped his handlebars, his knuckles white, his phone fixed to his bike's dash.

"Keep fighting, Nova!" he growled into the wind, his voice raw. "Do you hear me? We're almost there!"

Through the line, the sounds of the struggle-the heavy thuds and Nova's desperate cries-only fueled their speed. They rode like men possessed, weaving through traffic as if the world were standing still.