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CHAPTER THREE

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

THE events of Mystic’s Sunrise begin several months before the conclusion of Spinner’s Luck. While each book can be read on its own, reading the series in order provides the full experience of interconnected characters and events.

Five Years Later

There was always noise in the clubhouse, music, voices, the rumble of bikes outside, but I had never felt so alone.

The women didn’t speak to me. Not really. They smiled tight when I walked by, nodded from a distance, but no one sat next to me. No one asked my name. Not since the night Kenna made her mistake and Drago shattered the silence with his rage.

After that, they all stayed away.

The men… they avoided me like I was marked. Like one wrong look would cost them their lives.

Maybe it would.

Drago had made sure of that. The first time one of the prospects lingered too long near the hallway while I was walking past, Drago beat him so badly he had to be carried out.

He hadn’t touched me.

Hadn’t spoken to me.

He just looked.

That was enough.

Now, they wouldn’t even meet my eyes. Not at meals. Not in passing. It was like I was a ghost again, only this time, not because I was trying to be invisible.

But because I was untouchable .

Drago’s.

The first time I heard someone whisper it behind my back, the words felt like chains slipping around my throat.

“She’s Drago’s.”

I told myself I was safe. That he had rescued me. That what I had now was better than where I came from.

But freedom shouldn’t feel like this.

I sat with him in the corner of the common room most nights. A book in my lap I didn’t really read. A drink I didn’t touch. Just… sitting. Watching.

Drago always had one hand on me when we were together, on my leg, my hip, the back of my neck. Possessive. Proud.

And every time a man lingered too long near me, he’d tighten his grip like a reminder.

But no one dared approach. No one dared get close to me.

Until her.

Lucy.

She walked in like chaos on two feet. Confident. Full of life. A mouth that didn’t know how to stay shut. And for some reason, she sat next to me like I was just another girl in the room.

“Is that coffee?” she asked one night, peeking into my mug.

I blinked. “Tea,” I said softly.

“Oh.” She paused, then smiled. “That sucks.”

And just like that… I wasn’t alone anymore.

She didn’t flinch when Drago looked her way. Didn’t lower her voice. Didn’t act like I was some dangerous thing wrapped in silence.

She talked.

She listened.

She laughed.

And something in me—something buried deep under years of silence—stirred.

I latched onto her friendship the way a drowning girl clings to driftwood. Because Lucy didn’t see me as a warning sign. She didn’t care who I belonged to.

She just saw me .

And for the first time since that night I was taken, I felt like I might still be human.

***

IT STARTED WITH laughter.

Small. Soft. Mine.

Lucy had said something ridiculous—something about how one of the men reminded her of a confused raccoon—and the sound slipped out of me before I could stop it. Quick. Breathless. Real.

Drago looked up from across the room. He didn’t smile. He just watched .

I felt the weight of his stare across the common room like a hand closing around my throat.

He didn’t come over right away.

But I felt the shift. The change.

That night, when we were alone, he didn’t say anything. Just touched me more than usual, his grip firm, kisses rougher. Not angry. Just... reminding .

His.

Always his.

The next morning, Lucy found me in the kitchen and grinned like nothing was wrong. Like the world wasn’t shifting under our feet.

“You good?” she asked, bumping her shoulder into mine.

I smiled, but it felt thinner than the ones before. “I think… I think you shouldn’t be near me so much.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

I looked down. “He’s watching.”

“Let him,” she muttered. “You need a friend, Zeynep. Not a leash.”

Her words hit something deep in my chest. Something I’d buried.

And that night, Drago noticed everything .

The way I didn’t lean into his touch as quickly. The way I hesitated before answering him. The way my mood shifted when Lucy left the room.

“You’re different lately,” he said, his expression accusing.

I froze. “I’m just tired.”

“No,” he said, fingers brushing down my arm, slow, deliberate. “It’s her. That mouthy little bitch is whispering in your ear.”

My heart dropped. “She’s not—”

His hand tightened around my wrist.

“Don’t lie to me.”

I didn’t answer.

He leaned in, eyes searching mine like he was peeling back the layers of my soul. “You think she’s your friend? Think she gives a damn what happens to you?”

“She talks to me,” I whispered.

“Because she wants something,” he hissed. “They all want something. And I won’t have her turning you against me.”

“I’m not against you—”

“But you’re thinking. You’re questioning .”

He stood, breathing hard, pacing. A storm gathering in his chest.

“I took you out of hell,” he muttered. “And now you want to run back into the fire because some bitch told you you could?”

I stood too quickly. “That’s not fair.”

He stopped. Looked at me like I was a stranger.

And then he smiled.

Cold. Controlled.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said softly. “She won’t be a problem anymore.”

A chill ran through me.

“What does that mean?” I asked, voice trembling.

He stepped close, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Kissed my temple like nothing had happened.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll handle it. You don’t need anyone else. You have me.”

He left without another word.

And I stood there, shaking, knowing exactly what that smile meant.

Lucy was already marked.