Page 107 of Mystic's Sunrise

For a long time, I believed her. Because Ihadbeen a mess. Ihadbeen angry, broken, dangerous to myself. And the truth was, if you spun it just right, took the worst nights and stripped away the context, it would sound exactly like what she wanted it to.

Evidence.

Proof.

Guilt.

The sheriff stared at me like he was trying to decide whether I was the monster she painted or something worse.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” he asked, voice unreadable.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

He leaned back in his chair, waiting. “You wanna explain why you were threatening your wife? Breaking things? Acting aggressive?”

I lifted my head and met his gaze square. My voice was quiet, steady, stripped bare of apology.

“You ever been to war, Sheriff?”

His lips flattened. “That’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

“No,” I said, letting the word sit. “It’s not. But maybe it fuckin’ should be.”

We sat there in silence. Him trying to read me. Me daring him to.

Then the door slammed open.

Devil entered first, all slow confidence and unreadable calm. Chain followed, a laptop tucked under one arm. His jaw was tight, eyes burning with something that looked a lot like fury restrained by purpose.

The sheriff straightened. “You can’t just walk in here—”

“The hell I can’t?” Devil’s tone was relaxed, almost bored, but I saw the fire beneath it. “You planning to press charges based on a few cherry picked soundbites?”

Chain didn’t bother with words. He strode to the table, flipped open the laptop, and hit play.

The room filled with sound again. But notmyvoice this time.

Chelsea’s.

Loud. Clear. Recorded earlier that day.

“I’ll fucking ruin you, Kain. You wanna leave me? Fine. But I’ll make sure you go down as the violent piece of shit everyone already thinks you are.”

The sheriff’s expression didn’t change at first. But I saw the flicker—doubt, then realization.

Chain clicked the next clip.

“I can make you look like anything I want. And you know what? They’ll believe me over some fucked up monster of a biker.”

The sheriff glanced at me, then to Devil, then to the screen still glowing with damning proof of the encounter.

It was all there.

Every bit of manipulation. Every threat. Every second of truth she never thought would surface.

He sat back, rubbed his face with both hands, and let out a long breath. “Looks like we’re done here.”

Devil’s grin was slow and razor-edged. “Uncuff him.”

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