Page 61 of Mystic's Sunrise

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THE ROOFTOP GROANEDbeneath my bootsas I shifted my weight, crouched low in the shadows. The salty air clawed at my throat, thick with rust, oil, and the sour stench of garbage water from the harbor. Reminded me of the shit-holes we’d camp out in overseas—waiting, sweating, listening to the wind carry whispers of gunfire.

Different battlefield. Same war in my chest.

I tracked Spinner through my scope as he weaved between shipping containers below, one hand on his piece, the other steady at his side. He was good, sharp when it mattered. Tonight would test him.

Chain lay to my left, breathing steady behind his binocs. Thunder and Bolt flanked us, weapons ready, watching from every angle. We were the overwatch. The last breath a motherfucker would take if he so much as looked at Spinner wrong.

I adjusted my scope again, muttering, “C’mon, brother. Find her.”

The containers loomed like steel coffins, stacked high, blotting out the moonlight. I blinked once, and for a heartbeat I wasn’t on a rooftop in Charleston, I was on the edge of a rooftop in Fallujah, watching smoke twist through the night as we waited for a signal. A kid had screamed through the comms that time, our corpsman. Blood soaking through his sleeves, begging for help while we were pinned down, forced to listen.

I flexed my grip on the rifle, jaw tight. This mission wouldn’t end that way.

Spinner stopped. He crouched near a rusted container, eyes scanning. Slid along the wall. Slower now. Controlled. He turned the corner, and there she was, tucked behind a stack of busted pallets and forgotten crates.

Even from up here, I saw it. That fragile, busted look in her eyes. Haunted. Like something had crawled inside her and started tearing pieces out. She didn’t even move at first, just stared at him like he was another shadow come to finish her off.

Spinner spoke to her, and it only took seconds before Lucy decided to be stubborn and fight him on leaving together.

Come on Lucy now isn’t the fucking time. Finally, she broke and left with him.

“Got her,” Chain muttered. Thunder let out a breath behind me.

But my eyes stayed sharp. “Not done yet.”

Movement flickered at the far end of the yard, two men in dark jackets, lingering near the fence. One sparked up a cigarette, the tip flaring like a damn beacon.

“Targets east side,” I said low.

“I’ve got ‘em,” Bolt growled.

“Wait it out,” Devil’s voice crackled through the comms. “No blood if we can help it.”

My finger itched on the trigger. One bad move, and I’d blow a hole through someone’s throat without blinking.

But they turned away.

Spinner moved fast now, keeping Lucy low, guiding her through the gaps in the containers like he’d mapped it out in his head. Smart. Lucy was stomping right behind him like she didn’t almost get herself killed.

They reached the breach in the fence, where Gearhead waited with the bikes and both hopped on, the bike rumbling to life.

Gone.

I exhaled through my nose, body still coiled tight. My chest didn’t unclench. Not yet.

“She seemed alright,” Thunder said.

“Alive,” I muttered. “That’s enough for now.”

I stood slow, letting the tension drain down my spine as I slung the rifle across my back. The shadows clung to my boots like they didn’t wanna let go. I didn’t blame them. Once you walk in darkness long enough, the light starts feeling like a lie.

As we moved to regroup, my mind flicked to Zeynep.

What would’ve happened if we hadn’t found her in that van? The next step for her would have been death and she would have disappeared from this earth.

Same way Lucy would have fallen through the cracks. And maybe… the same kind I used to be when I let my soul rot in silence. I shook the thought off and followed the others down, quiet as the night.

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