Page 90 of Mystic's Sunrise

With a groan torn from my chest, I spilled inside her, my whole body trembling with the force of it.

We stayed like that, her back against the wall, me holding her up, both of us panting in the quiet woods.

She leaned her forehead to mine, smiling through the haze. “That was… intense.”

I chuckled, rough and low. “That was me finally breathin’ again.”

We stayed there a while longer, tangled in each other, the sunlight slipping lower through the trees.

And for a moment, I believed I could really have this.

Her.

A future.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

THE CLUBHOUSE FELTdifferent tonight, warmer,lighter, filled with the kind of calm I still didn’t know how to fully trust.

I wasn’t used to this feeling—this illusion of safety—but with Mystic beside me, his arm draped over my shoulders, his body close and solid, his presence like gravity anchoring me to something I didn’t know I could want, I almost believed I could have it.

Almost.

Devil stood across the room, a drink in one hand and that sharp, unreadable gaze of his fixed on us. He looked between me and Mystic with something like worry—like he knew something I didn’t—and the knot in my stomach tightened, just a little.

Mystic turned his head, his eyes locking onto mine with that same depth, that same quiet intensity that always undid me in the worst and best ways.

“You good?” he asked, his eyes roaming over my face, the kind of look that could scrape over your skin and leave heat behind.

I nodded, feeling a smile ghost over my lips, soft and unsure but real. “For the first time since I was stolen.”

And I meant it. I truly did, but my intuition told me something wasn’t right.

Then the door slammed open with a force that didn’t belong here, not in this moment, not in this warmth.

The sound was loud—too loud—and it carved straight through the noise of the room like a bomb exploding.

Laughter stopped.

Voices fell away.

Bodies stiffened.

The men around us turned toward the door, instinct rising in their posture, their movements, and beside me, Mystic’s entire body changed.

He didn’t say a word, but I could feel it in him—that stillness that only came when something waswrong.

A woman stood in the doorway, backlit by the harsh white light behind her, her silhouette cutting a perfect shape of confidence and purpose. Her dark hair was long, lips painted a red that didn’t smudge, high heels clicking on the floor as she came further into the room.

But it wasn’t any of those things that bothered me.

It was where she waslooking.

Straight at us.

Athim.

She walked through the room like it belonged to her, like the air bent around her figure and the silence followed in her wake, and she never once broke eye contact with Mystic—not even for a second.