The Dreams We Chase (The Road and The Rodeo #4)

Prologue

SIERRA

Sometimes the real monsters weren’t the ones hiding in the shadows under your bed or in your closet. Sometimes the real monsters were the ones who were supposed to protect you from them in the first place.

A steady drumming in my temple matched the pace of my racing heart as I took in my surroundings. The world around me was devoid of color, everything in shades of gray.

Glass shards crunched under my body as I hauled myself to my feet, muscles shaking on the verge of giving out. An acrid, coppery scent filled my nostrils, and warm liquid dripped down my cheeks.

Tears?

I pressed my fingers to the skin under my eye, wincing at the sting of pain that came with it before my hand retreated back down under my gaze.

No.

Blood, like melted honey, clung to my fingertips.

The remnants of liquor bottles covered the hardwood floor, and I debated reaching down to grab one of the jagged pieces. It would be so easy, too easy, to get it over with. End all of this—all the fear, all the pain and suffering—for good.

After taking a deep breath, I carefully stepped over the dark figure lying on the floor, heading to the kitchen counter. My heart hammered against my ribs as my vision tunneled on the phone, the whole reason I’d gotten up from a heap on the floor in the first place.

My fingers moved on their own, pressing buttons as though it were muscle memory, even though my limbs trembled as I raised the phone to my ear.

A few heavy moments passed, hanging still in the silence of the dark, sleepy street of my neighborhood.

They say monsters aren’t born. They’re made.

A feminine voice crackled in my ear. “911, what’s the address of your emergency?”

But who gets to decide what makes a monster?