Page 23 of Mystic's Sunrise

She was standing at the foot of my bed, eyes wide with horror, her hands trembling as she took a shaky step closer. My throat tightened, emotion clogging my chest. I wanted to speak, to tell her I was okay—or at least that I would be—but nothing came. Only silence.

Her face crumpled as she took in the damage. The bruises, the bandages, the wreckage of what Dragon Fire had done to me. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “What did they do to you?”

Tears pricked at my eyes. I shook my head, my throat working, desperate to force out something—anything—but all that came was the burning reminder that my voice had been stolen from me. My hands tried clenching around the blanket as frustration and helplessness warred inside me.

“She can’t answer you.”

The voice came from the corner of the room, laced with barely restrained anger.

Mystic.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his broad frame tense. His mismatched eyes burned with suspicion as they flicked between me and Lucy. He didn’t trust her.Not yet.

“She’s still healin’,” he said, his voice edged with protectiveness. “The bastards crushed her windpipe. Doc says she’ll talk again, but it’ll take time, so make sure you don’t upset her.”

Lucy’s fists clenched at her sides. “I would never upset her.”

Mystic studied her for a long moment, then gave a tight nod. “Just make damn sure you don’t.”

Lucy turned back to me, and before I could process it, she was sinking onto her knees beside the bed, her fingersbarely brushing my hand. “I should’ve found you sooner,” she whispered, voice thick with guilt. “I should’ve—”

I squeezed her hand weakly, stopping her before she could spiral. There was no blame but me. Only relief that she was here, that she was safe.That we were both free.

Her gaze steadied, her chin lifting slightly as she blinked away tears. She understood. She always did.

She exhaled shakily and reached into her jacket, pulling out something small. When she set it beside me on the bed, my breath caught.

A Walk With Me.

The book was worn, the pages soft from being turned over and over through the years. It had been my comfort. My escape. One of the only things I clung to when I thought there was nothing left of me. My bandaged fingers trembled as I reached for it, pressing my palm over the cover.

Lucy smiled, though her eyes were still glassy. “I made sure to bring it.”

A tear slipped down my cheek. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this until now. Lucy with me again.

Mystic shifted from the corner, his presence as steady as it was commanding. “She just had her pain meds,” he said, voice gruff. “She needs to sleep.”

Lucy nodded, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “They’ll pay for what they did,” she whispered. “Every single one of them.”

I believed her.

Mystic stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the bed. “You can visit her,” he said, his voice even but firm. “But know this, you step out of line, you’re out of here. Her care and safety come first.”

Lucy met his gaze, fire burning behind her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m here to help her. That’s all that matters.”

Mystic held her stare for a long moment before nodding, satisfied. I didn’t get angry at him for being harsh with Lucy. He was being protective and would come to see she was safe—a friend.

Spinner pushed away from the wall and nodded at Lucy. “Devil called church. He wants you there.”

Mystic sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his jaw before stepping toward the door. As he pulled it open, Brenda stepped inside, her expression warm but no-nonsense as always.

“I’ll be back soon,” Mystic murmured, glancing at me with the same promise before shutting the door behind him.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers caressing the book beside me. Lucy was here. I had Mystic. I wasn’t alone.

“Let’s get you cleaned and comfortable,” Brenda said dragging my attention to her.

I smiled and prayed that things wouldn’t change once Lucy told them who I belonged to.

---