Page 40 of Mystic's Sunrise

“I don’t care,” I choked out, shaking my head.Why won’t they listen? Why won’t they believe her?

Mystic’s jaw flexed. He studied me in silence, then exhaled through his nose. “Alright.”

I blinked. My breath hitched. “Alright?”

He nodded. “You want to talk to Spinner? Then we’ll talk to Spinner.”

Tears burned my eyes.He believed me.He wasn’t fighting me.

Mystic squeezed my hands, firm but gentle. “But you let me do the talking first. You push too hard, you’ll tear your voice up worse. Deal?”

I swallowed hard, wincing against the pain, and nodded.

“Good,” he murmured. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, just enough to pull me back from the shadows in my mind. “Let’s go set this shit straight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

ZEYNEP SAT BESIDEme, her body tense, shouldershunched like she was bracing for impact. The deep shadows under her eyes told a story of too many sleepless nights, too much pain carried alone. When she shifted uncomfortably, I grabbed the glass of water from the table and handed it to her without a word.

She took it with a shaky hand, her fingers cold against mine, and sipped carefully, her throat raw from disuse. Every move she made looked like an effort, like her body was fighting against her just to function. But her eyes—those eyes held fire. Held a truth I wasn’t sure Spinner was ready to face.

Devil sat in the corner, his presence steady but removed, like he knew any unnecessary pressure could make her more nervous. He stayed just out of her line of sight, letting me take the lead. This wasn’t just about getting answers. It was about making sure she didn’t break in the process.

Spinner sat across from her, his posture rigid, his jaw locked tight. The photograph and Fang’s property cut lay on the table between them like an open wound. I could see the conflict in his face, the war between doubt and anger.

“You sure you’re up for this?” My voice came out lower than I expected, softer than I’d ever spoken to anyone. It barely sounded like me.

Zeynep nodded, her throat working as she swallowed hard. Her first attempt to speak came out as a dry croak. I saw the frustration flicker in her eyes before she tried again.

“I need to,” she rasped, each word a battle.

I took the glass from her hands before she dropped it, setting it aside. “Take your time.”

Her gaze landed on the photo, then the cut, her fingers tightening in her lap. A spark of something fierce broke through the exhaustion, her jaw clenching. “It’s... a lie.”

Spinner leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then what is it? Looks like Lucy had somethin’ going with Fang.”

Her head snapped up, eyes blazing, the anger behind them unexpected.Defensive. Protective.“No,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Lucy... she hated him.”

I frowned, but before I could press, I saw it—the way her body tensed, the way she fought to keep her breathing steady. She was reliving it.

“Zeynep, you don’t have to push yourself,” I murmured, my fingers flexing against my knees, resisting the urge to reach for her.

She shook her head. No hesitation. “Fang... fixated on Lucy. Wanted her. I warned her... he was dangerous. She didn’t listen.”

Spinner’s voice was strained. “Why? What happened?”

Zeynep’s breath was shaky, her hand gripping my sleeve as if it was the thread stitching her to the moment. “Drago,” she croaked. “He... punished.”

I went still, tension rippling through me. “Punished you how?”

Zeynep squeezed her eyes shut like she had to fight to get the words out. “Not me,” she whispered. “Lucy.”

The words knocked the breath from my lungs. I could feel Spinner go rigid beside me, the accusation hitting him like a sledgehammer.

“Lucy?” he repeated, his voice raw with disbelief.

Zeynep’s eyes locked onto his, desperate. “Drago ordered it. Fang... attacked her. Because of me.”