Page 14 of Mystic's Sunrise

No one stopped.

No onesaw.

The last thing I heard was a door slamming shut.

Then—nothing.

I was wrong.

Ishouldhave stayed inside.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHIT ALWAYS HITSthe fan at the worst times.

The call came in, Dragon Fire had Fiona and Brenda cornered down the road. We rode hard, engines roaring, tires eating up the pavement as wind tore past. My jaw clenched so tight it ached. Bolt was up front, murderous rage in his eyes, anyone laying hands on Fiona was signing their own death warrant. Couldn’t say I blamed him.

We rounded the corner, gravel spitting under our wheels. What we saw set every one of us off, Dragon Fire’s scum crowding around the women, voices raised, shoving them like a pack of rabid dogs. Brenda stood defiant, arms up like she’d takethem all down herself, while Fiona struggled in the grip of one bastard twice her size.

“Move!” Bolt roared, gunning his bike straight into one of them. The guy went flying with a yelp, bones cracking on impact. We followed hard and fast, fists flying, boots slamming into bodies.

Thunder tackled a guy to the ground, knuckles painting the pavement with blood. Chain swung his fist, connecting with a satisfyingcrackagainst a Dragon Fire punk’s ribs. Bolt? He was pure fury, slamming his fist into a man’s jaw and throwing another over the hood of a car. No mercy. Not tonight.

One of the bastards pulled a knife—dumb move. I closed the distance, wrenching his arm back until he screamed, blade clattering to the ground. I sent my elbow into his face, dropping him cold. “Real tough guy, huh?” I muttered.

It wasn’t long before we had them down, groaning in the dirt like the cowards they were. Devil’s voice cut through the chaos. “Get ‘em tied up. We clean up and get out of here.”

My adrenaline spiked, ready to move on, until my gaze snagged on something off.

A van. Parked by the road, door cracked open like an afterthought. Should’ve blended into the background, but something gnawed at me.Check it,my instincts barked. No hesitation.

“Cover me,” I muttered to Thunder, boots pounding against the hot pavement as I jogged over. Sweat dripped from my forehead into my eyes, but I didn’t stop. Hand on the handle, I yanked the doors open—

And froze.

A woman.

Barely conscious. Beaten to hell. Blood dried in streaks along her face and arms. Her clothes were torn, skin pale beneath grime and bruises. Chest rising in shallow, ragged breaths.Goddamn.Who does this? No time for anger, she needed help. Fast.

I climbed in, careful as I shifted her into my lap. She whimpered at the touch, flinching from the pain. “Easy... I got you,” I said, words foreign coming from me, but spilling out anyway. Didn’t matter what felt natural—leaving her here wasn’t an option.

Her eyelids fluttered. Slow. Heavy. Then—brown eyes opened, gaze locking on mine.

Time... stilled.

Bloodied. Bruised. Barely holding on. And yet—no fear. Just... trust. Like she saw straight through the scars, the patch, the cuts—and found something worth believing in. That look slammed into me, scraping raw nerves I thought were long dead.

“Hang in there,” I said, voice rough to my own ears.Don’t you fucking give up on me.

Her lips parted, like she wanted to speak, but then she sagged, eyes slipping shut again. Gone.

“Shit,” I muttered, checking her pulse. Weak... but there. Good. Stay with me, sweetheart. You made it this far.

Footsteps pounded behind me. Bolt skidded to a stop, breathing hard. Fiona was beside him, worry all over her face. Devil followed, gaze sharp.

“She’s in a bad way,” I said, adjusting her head so she could breathe easier. Her weight barely registered, a feather in my lap. Too light. Too fragile.

Fiona’s face tightened. “She needs help. Now.”