Page 170 of Mystic's Sunrise

Again.

His nose broke under my knuckles. Teeth snapped. Blood sprayed across the floor.

He tried to twist away, but I had him pinned, my knees locking him in place as I pounded into him, rage pouring out in every strike. My vision blurred, red creeping in at the edges, but I didn’t stop—not until the fight drained from him and his breath came in shallow, rattling gasps, eyes glazed, body twitching.

I dropped him.

Turned.

And found her crawling back toward the wall, her body trembling, her hands still bound and slick with blood. Her lip was split, her face bruised, but her eyes—God, her eyes were still her.

I crawled to her, dropping the knife halfway there, my own arms shaking. When I reached her, I pulled her into my chest, wrapping myself around her as tight as I could, her body folding into mine like it was the only place she belonged.

“I got you,” I whispered, breath hot against her hair. “You’re okay, baby. I got you. I got you.”

And then, boots. Doors. The thunder of footsteps.

Voices shouting. Guns raised. A roar of bodies storming in.

The club had arrived.

But I didn’t look up.

Didn’t move.

Because I was already exactly where I needed to be.

Right here.

With her.

***

BACK AT THEclubhouse, the room was dark, quiet except for thesoft spill of light leaking in from the hallway and the slow, even rhythm of her breathing.

Zeynep lay curled on her side, the sheet tucked up to her shoulders, her face half-hidden beneath the fall of her hair. She looked small. Still. At peace for the first time in days. That steady rise and fall of her chest was the only thing keeping me grounded.

I hadn’t closed my eyes since we made it back to the clubhouse.

Didn’t plan to anytime soon.

I just sat there, unmoving, watching her like she might vanish if I blinked. Like this was some twisted dream I hadn’t woken from yet—and any second now, I’d find myself back in that goddamn room with her blood on my hands and a chain still bolted to the wall.

But she was here.

Breathing.

Alive.

And I needed answers.

I stood slowly, easing off the bed without disturbing her. My fingers pulled the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, brushing against her skin like a silent vow. I ran my hand gently through her hair once before turning and stepping out into the hallway.

The clubhouse was dead quiet. Not the usual late-night lull with muffled music and laughter in the distance. This was something else. The kind of silence that settled in after shit went sideways. When your family was nursing wounds too deep for bandages.

A few murmurs sounded faintly from somewhere down the hall, voices quiet, tired. No music. No laughter. Just that heavy aftershock you feel when the reaper came close and walked away empty handed.

I found Devil in the common room.

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