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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

LUCY WAS BACK .

The moment she stepped into my room, relief crashed over me so fast, so hard, I could barely breathe. She was here. Safe. I had feared the worst, imagined horrors too dark to speak aloud. But now she stood before me, real and whole.

My throat tightened as I sat the book I was reading down on the bed. “Lucy,” I rasped, my voice no more than a whisper.

Her lips curled into a smile, but something was off. There was stiffness in the way she held herself, in the flicker of sadness that darkened her eyes before she masked it. She came closer, sitting beside me on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” she said lightly, but I could hear the strain beneath her words. “You look... less terrible.”

A breath of laughter escaped me, soft and shaky. It felt strange to laugh after everything. “You came back.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant. “I couldn’t stay away. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

I studied her face, the tension in her jaw, the exhaustion shadowing her eyes. Something had happened. Something she wasn’t saying.

“You’re not okay,” I murmured.

She shook her head too quickly. “I’m fine. Just… tired.”

Lies. I knew Lucy too well. She was hiding something.

I hesitated before asking, but I had to know. “Did they find you?”

Her exhale was heavy, her shoulders sinking. “Yeah. Fang almost caught me tonight. But I got away.”

The blood in my veins turned to ice. A sharp, panicked breath rattled in my chest. I knew Fang. Knew the cruelty in his eyes, the way he smiled before hurting someone.

“Lucy, you can’t keep messing with them,” I whispered, my voice rasping with urgency. “I’ve seen what they’re capable of. And so have you.”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “I just have to be more careful.” Her voice was firm, but I heard the edge of fear beneath it. “I can’t stop, and you know that.”

I did know. But it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

I swallowed hard, forcing down my panic, and reached for something safer. “Spinner?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her whole body stiffened. She looked toward the door as if searching for an escape. “Spinner’s not my business anymore, and I really want to keep it that way.”

I wasn’t convinced. Not for a second. But I let it go. For now.

A beat of silence stretched between us before she finally said, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too and worried for you.”

Before I could say anything else, the door swung open and Mystic walked inside.

The moment our eyes met, the rest of the room faded. His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unreadable, something passing between us. My breath caught in my throat, my heart beating too fast.

Lucy stood, brushing her hands against her jeans. “I’ll come back later. I need some rest.”

I wanted to tell her to stay, to make sure she was really okay. But I saw the way she glanced between us, the way her expression shifted. She thought she was intruding.

She turned to leave, pausing only long enough for me to say, “Just don’t run off again.”

She wanted to promise she wouldn’t. But the words wouldn’t come, and then she was gone, leaving me alone with Mystic.

He didn’t move at first. Just stood there in the doorway like a statue. His jaw was tight, arms crossed over his chest, like the weight of everything he’d just done still clung to him.

But his eyes—those haunted eyes—were locked on me.

“You feel better?” he asked.

I nodded slowly. “Now… yes.” My voice cracked on the last word, barely more than breath.

He shut the door behind him with a quiet click. Then he stepped closer, slow and careful, like I might shatter if he moved too fast.

“You feel better now?” he asked.

My eyes from gratitude. “Thank you.”

He shook his head like he didn’t deserve it. “Don’t thank me. Just… rest easy now.”

But I couldn’t. Not yet. My fingers twisted in the blanket as I looked at him, really looked. Something inside me settled just having him near. Just like always.

“You kept your promise,” I said softly.

He nodded. “Yeah.” His voice dipped quieter. “We weren’t about let that scum touch her.”

“I was so afraid for her,” I said.

“I know,” he murmured. “But she’s okay as long as she doesn’t run again.”

Silence settled between us again, heavy, but not uncomfortable. He moved to the chair near the bed and dropped into it with a quiet grunt, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Tension still lined his body, but his eyes never left mine.

“She’s not okay,” I whispered.

“No. But she’s alive. That’s all that matters.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the closed door. Then back to him. “And you? Are you okay?”

He huffed a quiet breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Been a long time since I knew what that meant.”

I didn’t push. Just reached out, slow and hesitant, until my fingers brushed the back of his hand.

He didn’t pull away.

His hand turned, calloused palm catching mine, holding it like it was something he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch.

“Will you stay… tonight with me,” I asked, lying back on the bed. “Like last night… only here?”

“Yeah,” he replied, leaning down to take off his boots and moving to lay beside me on the bed, reaching over to turn off the light.

We didn’t say anything else.

We didn’t need to.

The war outside could wait.

Right now, this—in my room, his hand warm around mine—peace.