Page 126 of Mystic's Sunrise

“You thought wrong,” I said, stepping back and beginning to pace. “She’s still a problem.” I didn’t even bother to look at him as I asked, “Where would she go?”

He shrugged like the fool he was. “No clue. Nobody’s seen her. But… she’s in danger.”

That made me stop.

“What does that mean?”

“There’s someone else,” he said, quieter now, like even speaking the name gave it power. “Rival club. Guy named Drago. Bad news. Real bad. Word is, he had her before Mystic did. Mystic pulled her out. That’s why she’s been hiding all this time.”

Drago.

I rolled the name over in my mind. Harsh. Dangerous. Interesting.

“So she ran,” I said slowly. “Alone. No protection. And she used to belong to someone else…”

He nodded, regret written all over his face as he second guessed confiding in me. It was too late for that.

I smiled again, small, sweet, manipulative. The kind of smile that kept men like Jacob dangling a little longer than they should.

“Thanks, Jacob,” I said, brushing my fingers against his chest. “You’ve been so helpful.”

I kissed him once—light, teasing—then pulled him into the backseat, even though the thought of touching him made my stomach turn. A woman does what she has to do to protect what’s hers.

***

FINDING HER WASN’Tsupposed to be hard.

I’d followed my intuition as a woman in where she might be. She was scared, desperate, and not used to this side of the world, girls like that didn’t make clean getaways. They ran fast, but not far. And when they hid, they picked the kind of places that didn’t ask too many questions.

The motel clerk barely looked up when I slid a folded bill across the counter. Cash always worked better than charm in places like this. His fingers grazed the register, then he nodded toward the faded logbook.

“Pretty. Red hair. Alone,” I said, keeping my voice low, like we were sharing something dirty.

He scanned the log, thumb skimming down the list. “206,” he said after a beat.

That was the moment I thought I had her.

But when I reached the door—when I knocked, waited, and got nothing—I realized too quickly something was off. I knocked again, harder this time, but the silence inside didn’t budge.

I didn’t have a key. Didn’t want to risk drawing attention by forcing it. So I went back to the desk, this time leaning in a little more, tilting my head like I gave a damn about the man behind the counter.

“Can you tell me if she’s still here?” I asked, tapping the room number. “She’s my cousin. I think she might’ve left.”

He frowned, leaned back, and checked the screen. “Room’s still rented to her, she might be out.”

I smiled, polite and tight, then turned on my heel and walked out before the disappointment could show.

So I’d wait, shit it may not even be her.

I crossed the parking lot slowly, the night cool against my skin. My heels clicked across cracked pavement, sharp and deliberate, like I could grind the frustration right into the ground if I pressed hard enough.

I should’ve left. Should’ve gotten in the car, driven back, started reworking my plan. But instead, I found myself walking across the lot and into the rundown bar next door.

It reeked of filth and decay, but I had a mission and so I sat down. I ordered something simple and cheap, let the glass sweat in my hand while I sat near the back and waited.

And then I heard it.

“Evenin’ Drago.”

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