Page 35 of Mystic's Sunrise

I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

My gaze traced over her face, the bruises that once swallowed her delicate features now fading into soft shadows. Underneath the damage, she wasbeautiful. Not just in the way a woman is beautiful—but in a way that made something inside me ache. Made me want to touch, to protect, tokeep.

Her breathing was steadier now—slow, even. Peaceful, if you didn’t know better. She looked almost untouched by the shit that brought her here.

Almost.

I should’ve felt calm. Relieved. But there was this itch crawling under my skin. A tension that didn’t belong.

I shifted in the chair, listening.

Something was off.

The hallway had gone still. Too still.

This place was never quiet. Not completely. Even in the dead of night, you could hear the low thrum of voices, footsteps, laughter echoing from the common room, someone rummaging for a drink at the bar. But now?

Nothing.

I stood slow, careful not to wake her. My hand went to the gun tucked at my lower back—instinct, not panic. The kind ofinstinct the Corps beat into you until it lived in your bones. I moved to the side of the door, ears sharp, body still.

And then I heard it.

A breath. Soft. Shaky. Held too long. Someone was outside.

They weren’t moving. Just… standing there. Listening. My jaw clenched.

You didn’t loiter near this door unless you had a reason. And no one had a good enough reason to be creeping outside Zeynep’s room.

I didn’t open the door. Not yet. Just spoke low, enough that whoever was out there would feel the words more than hear them.

“You’ve got three seconds to walk away. After that, I open this door.”

Silence stretched.

Then I heard it—footsteps. Quick, light, trying too hard not to sound guilty.

I waited, counted off another five in my head, then unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

Empty.

I scanned the corridor, listening again, but whoever it was had peeled off fast. That didn’t mean they were gone. Just meant they knew how to move quiet.

My eyes drifted down the hallway to the rooms where some of the prospects bunked. One door stood slightly open. The prospects shared that room.

I stared at that door a second too long. I didn’t believe in ghosts. But I believed in spies. And someone sure as hell was watching me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE SCENT OFdesperation, rolling dice, and money filledthe air the moment I stepped intoThe Pit. The underground gambling house pulsed with the kind of energy I’d come to respect, bets were high, rules were loose, and fortunes flipped faster than a coin tossed in anger.

Thunder was there, leaning against the bar with a beer in one hand and a sharp eye on the tables. “Look who finally decided to show up,” he muttered, handing off the bottle to one of the girls as he pushed off the counter. “Thought you done abandoned me, brother.”

I grunted, scanning the room. “You know I’ve been handlin’ shit. You keepin’ this place in one piece?”

He snorted. “Place runs just fine. Had a couple dumbasses think they could skim off the top last week. We handled it. Nobody steals fromThe Pitand walks out with their kneecaps intact.”

I smirked. “Let me guess—Horse’s idea?”

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