Page 18 of Mystic's Sunrise

A soft breath escaped me. Not quite a laugh, but close enough. My lips pulled into a tired, genuine smile. Real.Mine.

Outside, the wind rattled the window. Clouds gathered, dark and heavy—a storm rolling in. The world was still harsh. Still dangerous. But here, in this room—with him—there was warmth. Safety. Something I thought I had lost long ago.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE CHAIR CREAKEDbeneath me as I shifted myweight, careful not to make a sound. Her hand had slipped away when sleep finally took her, but I could still feel it—soft fingers, just a brush, like she thought I’d disappear if she held on too tight.

She didn’t say a damn word, and still... she spoke louder than most ever had.

I should’ve left by now. Brenda had poked her head in earlier, offered to take over. I just shook my head. I wanted to be the one here for her.

Didn’t make sense.

She wasn’t mine. But she didn’t feel like danger either. Just broken pieces trying to find where they fit again. I knew that feeling too well.

I leaned back, studied the soft rhythm of her breaths, the way her face relaxed in sleep—like the pain had finally eased off its chokehold. Bruises still traced her cheekbone. Fainter now, but stubborn, like a memory that refused to fade.

I hated those marks.

Hated that I couldn’t go back and kill the bastards all over again.

I rubbed a hand down my face, jaw tight.

My brothers had noticed. The sideways looks, the offhand remarks.

“Mystic’s gettin’ soft.”

If only they knew.

Soft wasn’t the word. Obsessive? Maybe. Possessive? Definitely. I didn’t want anyone else tending to her. Not because I thought they’d hurt her—but because they didn’t see it. That deep sadness hiding under her silence. The kind that eats you from the inside out.

And maybe... maybe part of me recognized it. Too well.

She looked at me like I wasn’t some ugly circus act.

Like I wasn’t already owned by something I couldn’t shake free of.

No one will ever want someone so fucking messed up in the head.

The voice whispered up like rot in old wood. Quiet, familiar, and venom-laced. I clenched my jaw. Shut it down before it went deeper.

Not now.

Not here.

She didn’t know what I’d done to keep that voice at bay. The lies I’d buried beneath duty. She didn’t know what I’d promised. What I was still paying for.

And if she did?

She wouldn’t be reaching for me in the dark.

A knock snapped me out of the spiral. I stood slowly, eased the door open. Chain was there, leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting a while. Arms crossed, eyes probing.

“You alright?” he asked. Too casual.

“Fine.”

He didn’t move. “She sleepin’?”

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