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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE WARM WASHCLOTH brushed over my skin, the water soothing against bruises that had only begun to fade. Brenda worked carefully like always, her hands firm but gentle as she cleaned my body. The oversized sweatshirt I’d been wearing lay beside the bed, replaced by a fresh, clean one she helped me slip over my aching limbs.

I should have felt better. Lighter. But the weight in my chest wouldn’t lift.

Mystic and the club were learning the truth from Lucy at this very moment.

The thought rattled inside me, clawing at the fragile sense of safety I’d been holding onto. What will happen when they find out? When they learn I was Drago’s ol’ lady? Not by choice, no—but would they care? Or would that be enough to make them see me as nothing more than a problem?

Would they kick me out?

Give me back?

Fear curled in my stomach, spreading like poison. They’d already done so much for me. Saved me. Given me a place to heal. But loyalty ran deep in clubs like this, and Drago wasn’t just some low-level thug. He was their enemy, and I had been his.

Would that make them see me as the enemy?

Brenda let out a low hum as she wrapped the last of the bandages around my hands. “That man of yours—” she started, then paused, giving me a pointed look when I stiffened. “Don’t look at me like that, girl. I see the way he’s been hoverin’ over you like a damn rabid dog.”

I swallowed hard. Mystic.

Did he know yet? Did he already regret bringing me here? The thought made my chest tighten. He had been the first man that I felt drawn too. And I knew he was drawn to me too.

Would that change when he knew?

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Brenda said, shaking her head. “You got enough weight on those shoulders without addin’ what-ifs on top of it.”

Could she read my mind? I forced a small nod, but my thoughts didn’t stop spiraling.

A knock at the door had my heart slamming against my ribs. Mystic.

Brenda stepped back, arms crossing over her chest as he walked in. He stopped just inside the doorway, eyes locking on me immediately. My breath hitched.

For a split second, I braced for it. For hesitation. For anger. For the moment his expression shifted and he saw me as something different.

But it never came.

His gaze raked over me, not in suspicion, not in disgust. If anything, there was more in his eyes than before. More weight. More protectiveness. A quiet, burning kind of fury—not at me, but for me.

I exhaled slowly, tension melting from my shoulders.

He still looked at me the same.

Brenda glanced between us, then smirked, patting my arm. “I’ll leave you two alone.” With that, she strode out, closing the door behind her.

Silence settled between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Mystic didn’t move closer, but he didn’t take his eyes off me either.

“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, his voice rough, low.

I nodded. He didn’t look convinced.

He exhaled through his nose, raking a hand through his hair. “Lucy told us about you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around my ribs. This is it.

I sat up straighter, bracing myself.

Mystic’s jaw tensed. “You were his.”

I flinched before I could stop myself. Shame burned hot under my skin.

His hands curled into fists, his breathing slow and controlled like he was holding something back. Then, before I could say anything, he shook his head. “No. That’s not right. He claimed you. But you were never his.”

I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. He believes me.

My lips parted, wanting to say something—anything—but nothing came. He stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed, his gaze burning into mine.

“You don’t belong to him. Not anymore.” His voice was softer now, rough around the edges but steady. “You’re here. With us. With me.”

With him.

Relief bloomed in my chest, sharp, aching, too sudden. I clutched it like something precious and fragile, afraid it might vanish if I moved. But I didn’t have to.

Because when he reached out, his fingers brushing gently over my bandaged hand, I knew.

I truly wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

And Mystic wasn’t going anywhere.