Page 52 of Mystic's Sunrise

Zeynep’s voice, that soft, rasped whisper, still played in my damn head. I kept feeling the warmth of her hand on my face, the way she looked at me like I was something steady in a world that fucked her over. No one in my whole life made me feel special like Zeynep had a way of doing.

I clenched my jaw, shoving the thought away. Focus.

“The Pit’s pulling in good cash,” Thunder was saying, his arms crossed over his chest. “Ain’t had any trouble lately, but with you bein’ out more, I got Gatsby runnin’ backup on security.”

I gave a nod, forcing my mind back to the conversation. The underground gambling house—the one I was supposed to be runnin—had been on autopilot since Zeynep came into the picture. Since I made her my responsibility.

“You good with that?” Devil’s sharp gaze cut to me, unreadable as ever. I know he was worried about where my mind was at, but he kept a lid on it.

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my tone even. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Good,” Devil said, then leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Now let’s get to the real shit—Dragon Fire.”

A low murmur rolled through the room, blood lust thickening the air.

“No sign of Lucy?” Devil asked Spinner.

“Fuck no, a few possible leads but nothin’,” Spinner replied, that spinner going a mile a minute between his fingers.

“Drago hasn’t got his hands on her,” Devil replied. “If he had he would have made demands. Plus, we have Wrath, Soldier and Snipe out there with ears to the ground. It’s quiet.”

“Yeah, fucker would have demanded Zeynep to be returned. We all know Drago’s wants her back,” Chain muttered. “He’s got a twisted sense of ownership.”

My fingers curled into fists under the table. The thought of Drago getting anywhere near Zeynep again sent a slow, dark burn through my veins.

“He’s been quiet,” Bolt added, brows furrowed. “Too quiet. That don’t sit right with me.”

Gatsby flipped open his notebook, his pen tapping against the page. “I’ve been digging. Drago’s still got his connections to the cartel, but he’s keeping a low profile. Doesn’t mean he’s not planning something.”

“Which is why we need to be ready,” Devil said, tapping his fingers on the table. “We don’t let our guard down. We don’t assume he’s moved on. We keep an eye on Zeynep. Keep an eye on them.”

Keeping an eye on her wasn’t the problem.

The problem was why I wanted to.

I wasn’t just watching over Zeynep because she needed protection. I was watching her because I needed her. Because every time she was near, something in me settled, and that wasn’t something I was ready to give up.

“Anything else?” Devil asked, scanning the table.

No one spoke.

“Good. Meeting adjourned.”

Chairs scraped against the floor as the brothers stood, murmuring to each other as they filed out. I stayed where I was, fingers pressed against the wood, thoughts tangled up in a mess I couldn’t sort out.

“You got something on your mind, Mystic?”

I looked up. Devil was still at the head of the table, watching me.

I exhaled slowly, pushing to my feet. “Nothin’ that needs discussing.”

He studied me for a long second, then gave a slow nod. “Just make sure whatever’s crawling around in your head don’t fuck with your judgment, and bring shit knocking at your door.”

I didn’t answer. Just turned and walked out, the weight of his words heavy on my back. I knew what shit he was referring to. But my judgment was already shot to hell.

Because all I wanted to do was go back to my room.

Back to her.

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