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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I WOKE SLOWLY , the world wrapped in quiet.

The air in the room was still, carrying the faint scent of his cologne. My mind stirred before my body did, thoughts drifting in a hazy, sleepy fog before settling on one thing. Him.

I shifted slightly, feeling his steady warmth beside me. He was still there.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I barely breathed. It was such a small thing—waking up next to someone—but for the first time it wasn’t Drago.

I had spent years waking in fear, my body tense before my mind even caught up. Always having to act, to put on a show for Drago. Every word, every smile, glance, it had to be perfect, convincing. But here... now...

I was calm.

Safe.

I turned my head slowly, my eyes adjusting to the morning light. Mystic lay on his back, one arm resting over his stomach, the other near me but not touching. His breathing was deep, steady. The hard lines of his face were softer in sleep, the tension that usually sat between his brows smoothed away.

He looked... peaceful.

I wasn’t sure I had ever seen him like this before.

I studied the scars that ran along the side of his face, the way they pulled slightly at his features. He pretended he didn’t care about them, but I wasn’t sure that was true. He carried them like a weight, something unspoken but always present.

My fingers twitched, an urge rising inside me to reach out, to trace the jagged lines, to tell him that they only made him more handsome to me. But I didn’t. I wasn’t his girlfriend. It wasn’t my place.

Or maybe... it was becoming my place.

I swallowed, my heart tightening at my insecurities that had beaten at me earlier. What if this was nothing to him? What if he just didn’t know how to pull away?

The thought sent a sharp ache through my chest, one I wasn’t ready to face.

As if he could feel my stare, Mystic stirred, his head shifting slightly on the pillow. His breath deepened, then slowed, and after a moment, his eyes opened.

That gaze locked onto mine, groggy at first, then focusing. He didn’t move, didn’t pull away.

A thousand words sat between us, heavy and unsaid.

Maybe it was time to say them out loud.

I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, a sharp knock rattled the door.

“Mystic, you up?” Chain’s voice came through the wood, loud and impatient.

The moment shattered.

Mystic blinked once, then exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah,” he called back, voice still thick with sleep. “Gimme a minute.”

Footsteps retreated down the hall.

I should have moved. I should have sat up, created space, but I didn’t. Neither did he. We just... looked at each other.

Then, finally, Mystic let out a slow breath and pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, his expression guarded.

I nodded. “Yes.” A pause. Then, softer. “Better than I have in a long time.”

Something flickered in his expression—something I couldn’t quite read. But before I could ask, he was already standing, grabbing his boots.

“Gotta see what Chain wants,” he muttered, not looking at me.

I nodded, watching as he moved toward the door.

He hesitated just before opening it, his shoulders tensing for half a second. Then, without turning, he said, “Be back soon.”

And then he was gone.

I let out a slow breath, sinking back against the pillows, my heart still racing from the words I had been about to say.