Page 83 of Mystic's Sunrise

I rested my head against Lucy’s for a moment, feeling the peace stretch between us. It was rare. This quiet. This stillness.

But it never lasted long.

She pulled back gently, eyes scanning the treeline like she could feel the shift in the air before I did.

Her voice dropped a little. “You know Drago’s not done with you.”

My body tensed, just slightly, like an old bruise catching the edge of a table.

“I know,” I said softly.

She looked at me then. No softness now—just truth. “He’s still obsessed, Zeynep. You were his possession. His prize. And men like him don’t let go. Not ever.”

I nodded, the weight of her words sinking in like stones. “He never loved me. He just... owned me.”

Lucy’s jaw clenched. “And now he’s pissed he lost what he thought was his. And if he finds out you’re with someone else?” She shook her head. “He’ll go straight to war.”

My stomach turned, but I kept my voice steady. “Mystic is not afraid of him.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I’ve seen what Drago does when he’s angry. When he’s jealous.” She turned to face me fully. “He won’t just come for you, Zeynep. He’ll go througheveryonein his way. Fang too. That sick bastard would love an excuse to hurt more people.”

I swallowed, eyes drifting back to the water. “I don’t want anyone else to pay for what I ran from.”

“You didn’t run,” Lucy said fiercely. “Youescaped.You survived. And you’re not responsible for the storm they’ll bring. They chose that life. You didn’t.”

“I just don’t know how long I can hide,” I murmured. “And now that I’ve had this—this one good night—I don’t want to lose it.”

She reached out, grabbing my hand again. “Then don’t. But you have to be smart and not let your guard down.”

I nodded, the fear returning like a shadow crawling up my spine. “What if I bring him trouble?”

Lucy gave me a crooked smile. “It’s a damn good thing he looks like the kind of man who doesn’t mind getting into trouble.”

I let out a breath, half a laugh, half a sob.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

THE WATER SLAMMEDagainst my back, boiling hot,but not hot enough to strip her scent from my fucking skull. Steam clogged the air, thick like smoke after a fire, but I didn’t move. Just stood there, fists planted on the tile, breathing like a bull ready to charge.

She was still gone. And I was losing my goddamn mind.

My skin still reeked of the girl I’d just fucked, cheap perfume, sweat, some sticky-sweet bullshit that clung to me like rot. I let her crawl all over me, let her pretend she was something special.Didn’t even bother remembering her name. Didn’t need to. She wasn’t her.

She wasn’t Zeynep.

I growled, low and feral, and slammed my fist against the wall. Tile cracked. Didn’t help. Nothing did. I thought maybe if I used someone else—took what I wanted, like I always fucking did, I’d forget. Shut her out. Bury her.

But the second it was over, I felt nothing. Just the same hollow pit opening wider inside me, swallowing everything whole. I rolled off the girl like she was a goddamn corpse and left her in the bed, staring up at the ceiling like she’d done something worthwhile. She hadn’t.

No one else ever fucking could.

Zeynep hadruinedme.

She came into my world, soft and silent, eyes like storm clouds and a spine made of glass I couldn’t stop touching. And now? Now she was gone, and every part of me was screaming for her. I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t breathe without her fucking name rattling around in my skull like a bullet casing.

I leaned forward, pressing my head against the cold tile, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw popped. I wanted to hate her. God, Ishould’vehated her. For running. For slipping through my fingers.

But all I could think about was how she used to look at me, like I wasn’t a monster. Like the devil didn’t own me.