Page 118 of Mystic's Sunrise

Outside the door, the world moved on like it hadn’t broken me. Laughter drifted from the common room, boots thudded down the hallway, and somewhere far off, the familiar rumble of a bike kicked to life. Life was still happening.

And all I could think of was his voice.

Still lingering in the walls.

Still sitting in my chest like a weight I couldn’t shift.

I needed out. I needed to breathe without tasting him in the air. Without people analyzing every move I made. Like I was next in line to be saved.

But I didn’t want saving.

I wantedgone.

Oliver.

He’d come by earlier to see Lucy and Jaycee, quiet, polite, always carrying the faint smell of potato chips and pine like it clung to him no matter where he went. He didn’t stay long. Said he had something to drop off and had to get back. He wasn’t part of this club. He wasn’t looking for anything.

He was my chance.

I slipped out the side door, moving fast and low like a shadow, slipping between patches of moonlight. I kept to the side of the building, steps silent, breath shallow, heart hammering so loudly I was sure someone would hear it and stop me.

But no one came.

I reached his car parked along the fence line, still streaked with dust from the backroads. The back door opened with a creak, and I climbed inside, ducking low beneath a pile of old jackets that smelled like coffee, pine air freshener, and the faintest trace of engine oil.

I curled into myself, arms wrapped tight around my knees, pressing into the fabric like it could hide me from the world, or from myself.

Moments later, I heard the front door open, followed by voices. Oliver’s laugh—soft and easy—drifted back to me, then the click of the door shutting, the turn of keys, and the soft creak of the car shifting into gear.

Music filled the car, his voice singing along with the radio—off-key, relaxed, unaware.

Good.

Let the music cover my breathing, drown out the panic thrumming beneath my skin.

We pulled away from the clubhouse without anyone stopping us. No shouts. No alarms. No footsteps pounding down the gravel to drag me back.

They didn’t know I was gone.

Not yet.

Guilt twisted in my stomach, sharp and relentless.

Lucy would be hurt when she found out. Brenda would be furious. And him—Mystic—he’d probably tear the whole damn county apart looking for me. The farther we drove, the softer that resolve became.

The hum of the tires, the shifting trees, the fading scent of smoke and leather and everything that used to feel like safety—they fell away one by one, and in their place came the truth. Beneath the bravado, beneath the spite, beneath the need to disappear… was the same hollow I’d been trying to outrun since the day I was taken. And now, as the road stretched out ahead and the clubhouse disappeared behind me, I didn’t feel victorious.

I didn’t feel strong.

I felt alone.

Again.

Always again.

***

THE MOTEL REEKEDof stale smoke and needed a good cleaning. It wasn’t the worst place I’d ever been, but it wasn’t far off. I’d chosen it for one reason: it was quiet. Hidden. The kind of place that didn’t ask questions or require explanations.

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