Page 158 of Mystic's Sunrise

“You were never anything but a lying whore,” he said, voice sharp and final. “Just a delusional bitch.”

I scoffed, lifted my chin, refusing to let him see he’d gotten under my skin. “You here to drag me out? Throw your little threats around like you’re king of more than that biker gang?”

“No,” he said, pulling a pen from his cut. “I’m here to watch you sign the papers.”

I arched a brow. “And if I don’t?”

He leaned in close—tooclose. I could feel the heat of his breath. See the dead calm in his eyes. “Then I end this a different way.”

I laughed, until I saw his expression hadn’t changed. Not even a twitch.

“I’m not Mystic,” he said, his smile thinning into something dangerous, all teeth and no warmth. “You don’t make me feel anything. You don’t shake me. You don’t matter. And if you so much as try to fuck with his life again—”

He let it hang there. The threat behind it said enough.

Then he stepped in even closer. Lowered his voice until it was pure death. “I’ve already lost the one person who made me give a damn about living. That means I don’t care what happens to me. So if you think, for even a second, I won’t put you in the ground just to stop you from poisoning his life again…” His hand shot out. Grabbed the framed photo of me and Kain from the side table, and shattered it against the floor. Glass sprayed. Wood cracked. “I fuckingdareyou to test me.”

My breath caught. For the first time in years… I didn’t know what to say. I looked at him—reallylooked—and realized I wasn’t standing in front of the man I remembered. Adly had always been strong. Controlled. Confident. Butthisman…this was the Devil.

And he wasn’t bluffing.

He held the pen out like it was a loaded gun.

And I… I took it.

My hand trembled. Just slightly. But it did.

I signed.

He took the papers back, folded them with that same quiet calm. Didn’t thank me. Didn’t speak. Just turned and walked out, and I stood there, cold, breath shallow, hands shaking over nothing.

It wasn’t supposed to go like that.

I was supposed to win.

I wasalwayssupposed to win.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

I WAS LEANEDback against my bike, engine stillticking from the ride, heat soaking through the metal into my spine. One boot planted, the other resting on the peg like I didn’t know if I was staying or running.

Felt like I’d been stuck in that space for years.

Then the door opened.

Devil stepped out, slow and deliberate, like nothing inside had rattled him. But I knew better. That woman could rip skin off with her words and smile like she did you a favor. He’d faced her, face to face, and come out clean.

Didn’t speak right away. Just came toward me with something gripped in his hand. I saw it before he got close. Folded papers. Edges creased sharp like they’d been handled too many times.

He held them out, eyes unreadable, like always. No judgment in them. No comfort either. Just the kind of look you gave a man when the war was over but the wreckage still burned.

“It’s done,” he said.

I took them, fingers brushing his for half a second before I closed mine around the paper.

It finally felt final.

“Did she fight?” I asked, my voice sandpaper. Raw from a scream buried so deep it might never claw its way out.

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