CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK
She was under a microscope.
A silly notion, one sheâd never admit to anyone. Her logical mind challenged the thought but Sienna Beckham knew â just knew â that she was being watched.
Sitting on the grass, she scanned the busy park. A casual, fleeting glance, nothing too obvious.
Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Just the normal crowd â different faces than the day before, but normal nonetheless. Joggers, strollers, a few picnics, several ball games â all the same. The warm weather and sunshine had drawn out the nature lovers who appeared reluctant to leave despite the setting sun. The park, once lush and green, had turned a magical shade of orange, yellow, and red, a sign that fall had arrived with fervour.
Her instincts bristled; her gut clenched.
Paranoid? Crazy?
She pushed herself off the grass, drained the last of her water, and tossed the bottle in a nearby bin.
The sun hovered above the horizon, illuminating the tall buildings around the park in a gentle orange glow. The lake had turned a soft shade of pink. One last lap around the park and sheâd make her way home to shower and change before heading out to Terroirs for drinks with two of her colleagues from the bookshop. She hadnât wanted to go out tonight but it was Saturday, a day they were determined to celebrate.
She pulled her fiery red hair into a ponytail and set off at a gentle pace. Within moments, she was flying across the park with a feeling of lightness. Jogging always did that to her, but today she felt ⦠different.
Hell, sheâd always felt different, but today she felt strange.
Her parents?
The anniversary of her parentsâ deaths loomed dangerously around the corner, threatening to jolt her back into a time sheâd rather not remember.
But her uneasiness hinted at something more, something she hadnât been able to identify all week.
With a shake of the head, she scolded herself for being so serious, for thinking too much, and concentrated on running with a clear mind.
She soon lost herself to the fresh air, the warm glow of the fading sunlight, the wind in her face, and the thoughtless running.
It wasnât until sheâd neared the end of the lake and rounded a bend marked with several large, overgrown bushes that he pounced.
Strong, powerful, and terrifying.
His hands grabbed her and in a fluid motion, she was absorbed into a clearing in the bushes, into him.
She tried to scream but the heavy hand covered her mouth, smothering her cries. She couldnât breathe, couldnât see.
The more she struggled, the more force he used. His aggression pressed against her back like hot lead, evil and angry, and terror took a powerful grip.
Oh, God.
She lashed out, her elbow connecting to his ribs. He grunted, and she broke free. Before she could move, he charged, and for the first time, she saw his eyes.
Black, cold, evil.
Sheâd seen those eyes before, and they smacked of the life sheâd once shunned.
âWhat do you want with me?â she cried as he lunged for her. They tumbled to the ground, her arms beating, pushing, shoving.
But he was stronger and he hit back.
âStop!â she cried. âYouâre hurting me!â
âBe still, witch,â he snapped in a tone so cold that she felt the chill wash over her.
The result was instant. She froze and gaped at him. âWitch?â
âSurprised?â He grinned, without humour. âSurely you knew it was only a matter of time before we came for you.â
âI donât know what you mean.â She blinked, trying to clear the fog in her mind.
He shook her, not caring as her head connected with the ground. âFeigning ignorance wonât help you.â
âWhy are you here? What do you want?â
âWeâve come for you. For the book.â
And just like that, in a blink of an eye, the life sheâd once fled came crashing down around her.
A life as a powerful Beckham witch, fiercely protected by three Keepers. Sheâd always known it would catch up with her. Now that it had, fear and a crippling sense of pain and loss threatened to choke her all over again.