Page 163 of Mystic's Sunrise

I answered on the first ring. “Zey—” There was a pause, heavy and unnatural. Then her voice, soft, fragile, barely there. “Mystic…” I clenched the throttle tighter. “I’m here, baby. Where are you? Are you hurt?”Another pause, longer this time. Something about it sat wrong in my chest. “Mystic…” she said again, more strained this time. “Please… help me.”

The line went dead. I stared at the screen like it might give me an answer, might bleed the truth if I held it tight enough.

But it didn’t, and something inside me cracked wide open.

That voice wasn’t hers.

It sounded like her, but it didn’t feel like her—not deep in my bones where her voice usually settled. It was close, but too smooth, too precise—like someone trying to mimic what they didn’t understand.

I twisted the throttle and let the engine scream, not caring where I was going, just needing to move, needing todo somethingbefore that voice turned into a goodbye I couldn’t take back.

The road bent hard to the left, narrowing as it cut deeper into the woods. Up ahead, I spotted an old wooden marker, one Zeynep had once pointed to on a lazy afternoon ride, her voice soft as she wondered about the story behind it. That memory hit just seconds before someone stepped into the road.

I slammed the brakes, the tires shrieking as the bike skidded sideways across the gravel, throwing dust and heat into the air. The figure didn’t move, broad build, dressed head to toe in black, from the heavy boots to the tactical gloves. A full-face helmet covered everything, not a patch or insignia in sight.

He raised his hand, and aimed a stun baton right at my chest.

I went for my piece, but lightning surged through me before I could reach it.

Agony ripped through my body, my spine arching as I collapsed off the bike and onto the asphalt, my jaw hitting hard enough to rattle my teeth. The world blurred, shadows bleeding into light, pavement into sky.

Footsteps approached, slow, methodical.

The helmet tilted down as the man stood over me.

And then I heard her voice.

Not Zeynep.

Chelsea.

“I told you… if I couldn’t have you, no one would.”

Then everything went black.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

PAIN DRAGGED MEback from the dark, dull at first,distant and vague, then sharpening with every breath until it settled behind my eyes like a beat pounding in time with my pulse. My mouth felt like sandpaper, my throat burned raw, and every swallow scraped like gravel.

I tried to move, instinct kicking in before thought could catch up, but nothing gave. My arms had been pulled behind me and bound at the wrists so tightly I could feel the pulse of bruises already forming beneath the plastic. My ankles were tied just as tight, and the cold, damp concrete beneath me reeked of mildew and rust, the kind of stench that clung to your skin even after you left it behind, if you ever got to leave.

My cheek rested against the floor as I forced my eyes open, blinking past the haze. A single bulb swung overhead, buzzing faintly and throwing weak yellow light across the cinderblock walls. No windows. No doors in sight from this angle. Just stale air and the low hum of electricity, the sound of my heartbeat too loud in my ears.

The panic came fast.

I twisted against the restraints, pain flaring through my side, ribs screaming in protest with every movement. I didn’t know how I’d landed, but something was definitely cracked. Still, I pushed past it, eyes scanning the shadows, throat working to stay calm even as the edges of my vision blurred.

That’s when I saw Mystic.

He was slumped against the far wall, arms stretched high above his head and chained to a rusted pipe bolted into the concrete. His head hung low, chin against his chest, blood streaking from his temple down across his jaw. His legs were sprawled out in front of him, one foot twitching in slow, unconscious jolts like he was caught in the middle of a nightmare.

My stomach dropped.

“Mystic,” I croaked, barely able to push the sound out. “Mystic…”

No response.

I tried again, voice breaking around the words, more desperation behind them than I wanted to admit. “Please… wake up.”

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