Page 143 of Mystic's Sunrise

My breath came fast, urgent. We didn’t have time for this. “Please,” I said softly, my accent thicker from the fear curling in my throat. “Let us go.”

She laughed, stepping closer. “Oh, I don’t think so, sweetheart.” Her eyes snapped to me, filled with venom. “You don’t deserve to run. You have everything, Zeynep. Drago. His love. His loyalty. His club.” Her lip curled. “And you keep throwin’ it away. He’ll finally see me when I keep you bitches from gettin’ out”

Lucy clenched her fists. “Love? He owns her. That’s not love.”

Ashlynn’s gaze darkened. “You don’t know a damn thing.” Her fingers flexed at her sides. “Spinner should’ve picked me. He should’ve seen what I could be for him. What I am. But no, it was always you.” Her face twisted with fury as she looked at Lucy. “And now I have my heart set on Drago and you bitches are my chance.”

My stomach turned. This wasn’t just hate. This was obsession. Obsession over a getting a patch.

Lucy took a step forward, lowering her voice, turning it smooth, almost conspiratorial. “You know… maybe you’re looking at this wrong.”

Ashlynn blinked, her lips parting. “What?”

Lucy tilted her head, her expression shifting, a glint of calculation in her eyes. “As long as she’s here Drago will still want Zeynep. He loves her too much.” She let the words sink in, then shrugged. “But if you helped us disappear… you couldfinally have him. Completely. No more distractions. No more Zeynep. Just you.”

Ashlynn hesitated, her nails digging into her palms. She was thinking about it.

Lucy stepped even closer. “You’ve been waiting for this chance, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice soft, coaxing. “Drago might still be obsessed with her, but if she’s gone… really gone, he’ll finally see you.”

The doubt in Ashlynn’s face flickered, then dimmed.

I held my breath. Would she do it? Would she actually let us go?

A sound from down the hall, a door opening. Voices.

Ashlynn’s jaw clenched. Then, slowly, she stepped aside.

Lucy’s fingers curled around my wrist. “Go,” Ashlynn hissed. “Before I change my mind.”

We didn’t wait. We didn’t look back.

We ran.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

THE NIGHT AIRwas thick with tension, heavy with thebite of dirt and the threat of rain. My engine vibrated beneath me, the pavement rushing past in a blur as we tore down the backroads like wolves chasing blood. We had their location. We had our plan.

Now we had to finish it.

The road ahead stretched black and empty… until red taillights flared to life.

Then headlights.

Then the sound of bikes—theirbikes—rolling out of the treeline like a fucking ambush.

“Dragon Fire!” Bolt shouted, jerking his handlebars to the side.

I slammed my brakes, skidding to a stop just as a line of bikes and trucks boxed us in. Gravel sprayed. Dust rose. And from behind the biggest truck stepped Drago, calm as ever, like he owned the night.

He was smiling.

That smug, twisted bastard. He thought he had us boxed in. He had no idea.

I swung off my bike, boots crunching as I stalked toward him, rage humming through every nerve. “Where the fuck is she?” My voice was filled with the wrath of hell.

Drago spread his arms like a showman on a stage. “Zeynep? What fucking business is she to you?” He grinned, smug. “She came back to me, motherfucker. She loves me, you fucked up asshole.”

Behind me, Spinner was already moving, off his bike, sprinting straight for Fang like a damn missile. “WHERE IS SHE?” he roared.

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