Page 81 of Mystic's Sunrise

She was curled into my chest, legs tangled with mine, hand resting over my ribs like I’d invited her into my body and she’d just stayed.

And goddamn, I wanted her to stay.

But I couldn’t breathe.

Not really. Not the kind that fills your lungs—not when you know the lie’s still hanging over your head.

Last night had stripped me down to the bone. I’d let her in, every broken piece.

In the quiet of the dark, it had felt like enough.

But daylight?

Daylight didn’t lie. It peeled back all the softness and left nothing but truth behind.

I stared at the ceiling, listening to the faint hum of the world waking up outside. One of the boys revving an engine. A shout down the hall. The smell of coffee just starting to brew in the kitchen.

I should’ve felt at peace. Should’ve felt whole. Instead, my chest was a vice.

She shifted against me, humming softly like she hadn’t quite made it to the surface of her dreams. Her fingers flexed once against my side before she nestled even closer.

And fuck me, that did it.

I slid out of bed slowly, like a man diffusing a bomb. Her body moved without thought, reaching for the space I’d left behind, but I pulled the blanket gently back over her.

I stood there a second too long, watching her sleep like a coward who didn’t deserve any of this.

Then I grabbed my jeans and shirt, tugged them on with a few muttered curses. My hands were shaking.

Just a little.

Just enough to remind me I wasn’t in control of this anymore.

Her voice stopped me at the door—soft, raspy, half-asleep. “Mystic?”

Just one word, and it cut deeper than anything the military ever threw at me.

“What’s wrong?”

I turned. Her eyes were half-lidded, confusion flickering in their depths.

I kept my voice even. Controlled. “Devil needs me. Club business.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Just the kind I could stomach.

She sat up slightly, the sheet falling around her waist, looking so fucking beautiful I didn’t know how I would survive this. “This early?”

“Yeah.” I looked away before I could drown again. “Shouldn’t be long.”

She nodded slowly, but I saw it in her face, that flicker of something. Disappointment. Hurt. Maybe even doubt. She was smart. She knew when someone was running.

But she didn’t push.

“I’ll be here,” she said softly.

I gave her a nod. One that felt like goodbye—even if I didn’t mean it to.

But the truth was… it might be.

---