Page 11 of Mystic's Sunrise

Freedom.

It was out there. Just beyond the road ahead.

Please… let us make it.

CHAPTER FIVE

SOMETHING WAS WRONG.

I felt it before I even killed the engine.

The clubhouse was too quiet. The usual noise—music blasting, drunk assholes laughing, sweet butts hanging on shoulders—wasgone. In its place? Stiff postures. Avoided glances. The kind of silence that meant someonefucked up.

A muscle ticked in my jaw as I swung off my bike. Fang was at my side, boots crunching on gravel as we stepped forward. “Something’s off,” he muttered.

No shit.

Fang shoved the clubhouse door open, and a few of my men stood there like goddamn deer in headlights. I stalked past them, my gaze sweeping the room before locking onto the hallway.

Then I saw it.

The door tomy room. Standing open.

My blood turned to fire.

Where is she?

I didn’t ask. Not yet.

Iwaited.

Because they knew. They fuckingknewwhat I’d do if they didn’t give me the right answer.

Then Rory—thefucking prospectI had watching her—stepped forward, eyes wide and panicked.

“D-Drago…” His voice shook.

Cold fury gripped my spine.

“Where is she?” My voice was calm.Toocalm.

Rory flinched. “I—I don’t—”

I moved before he could finish. My fist connected with his gut, knocking the wind clean out of him. He folded, gasping, but I didn’t let him drop. I grabbed him by the cut, jerking him upright, slamming him back against the wall hard enough to rattle the wood.

“Say it,” I growled, my face inches from his.

Terror flashed in his eyes. “She’s gone.”

The words slammed into my chest like a bullet.

Gone.

Zeynep wasgone.

My grip tightened. My vision tunneled. My breath came harsh and ragged, but everything else drowned out beneath the ringing in my ears.

This wasn’t happening.

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