Page 81 of Mystic’s Sunrise (The Devil’s House MC: South Carolina #3)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

THE NIGHT AIR was thick with tension, heavy with the bite of dirt and the threat of rain. My engine vibrated beneath me, the pavement rushing past in a blur as we tore down the backroads like wolves chasing blood. We had their location. We had our plan.

Now we had to finish it.

The road ahead stretched black and empty… until red taillights flared to life.

Then headlights.

Then the sound of bikes— their bikes—rolling out of the treeline like a fucking ambush.

“Dragon Fire!” Bolt shouted, jerking his handlebars to the side.

I slammed my brakes, skidding to a stop just as a line of bikes and trucks boxed us in. Gravel sprayed. Dust rose. And from behind the biggest truck stepped Drago, calm as ever, like he owned the night.

He was smiling.

That smug, twisted bastard. He thought he had us boxed in. He had no idea.

I swung off my bike, boots crunching as I stalked toward him, rage humming through every nerve. “Where the fuck is she?” My voice was filled with the wrath of hell.

Drago spread his arms like a showman on a stage. “Zeynep? What fucking business is she to you?” He grinned, smug. “She came back to me, motherfucker. She loves me, you fucked up asshole.”

Behind me, Spinner was already moving, off his bike, sprinting straight for Fang like a damn missile. “WHERE IS SHE?” he roared.

Fang didn’t even have time to raise his gun before Spinner slammed into him. They hit the dirt in a tangle of fists, blood, and pure fucking rage. This wasn’t a fight.

It was an execution.

Gunfire exploded in the dark, muzzle flashes lighting up the trees like strobe lights from hell.

I didn’t flinch.

Didn’t look away.

Drago raised his gun. I kicked it out of his hand before he could aim. It clattered across the ground and vanished into the dirt.

He came at me swinging, fast and mean. I ducked the first hit and drove my fist into his ribs, hard enough to feel something give. He staggered but didn’t fall.

Didn’t even slow.

Drago came back like a goddamn animal, teeth bared, fists wild. I blocked, countered, landed a solid punch to his jaw that sent blood flying. He spit and laughed like a lunatic.

“So the scarred freak’s in love with my ol’ lady,” he sneered. “She ain’t yours. She’ll never be. She’s belong to me— a whole man .”

“You motherfucker,” I snarled, lunging at him again.

More gunfire rang out behind us, Chain and Thunder had taken cover, returning fire in short, controlled bursts. Bolt was yelling something, but it was drowned out by the chaos.

I didn’t care.

All I saw was Drago.

We slammed into the ground, rolling through gravel and blood. I landed on top, hands around his throat, squeezing until his face darkened and his legs kicked.

“Where is she?” I hissed.

He just laughed, blood foaming at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re too late,” he wheezed.

A sharp crack split the air.

“DOWN!” Devil shouted.

I twisted, dragging Drago with me, just in time. The shot meant for my head slammed into his shoulder instead.

We traded blows, fists connecting with flesh, knuckles cracking against bone. He was fast, but I was meaner. More desperate.

He caught me with a hit to the jaw that made my ears ring.

I spit blood. “That all you got?”

Drago grinned through bloody teeth. “She screamed my name when I fucked her last night. Begged for more .”

I saw red.

I tackled him to the ground, straddling his chest, fists raining down. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“You don’t touch her,” I growled, slamming his head into the gravel. “You don’t say her name.”

He laughed through it all. “She’s mine—”

That’s when I saw the flash of steel, his hand reaching for a blade.

Too slow.

I caught his wrist, twisted, and drove my knife up under his ribs, just below the sternum.

His whole body jerked. He gasped—wet, gurgling.

I pulled the blade out and drove it in again. “This is for all the shit you did to her.”

One more thrust. Deep. Deadly.

Blood bubbled at his lips. His eyes went glassy. The light in them flickered, then… nothing.

Still.

I stayed there a moment, chest heaving, blood dripping from my hands.

He didn’t move.

No breath. No twitch. No fucking heartbeat.

He was dead.

I stood up slowly, wiping my blade on his shirt. The others were already regrouping. Fang was sprawled out in the dirt nearby, Spinner kneeling over him, hands shaking, a knife still buried in Fang’s chest.

Devil came up beside me. “You got him?”

I nodded once. “He’s not getting’ back up.”

“Good.” Devil’s said, giving him a kick. “We clear the rest, then get the hell out. We’ve got a few brothers hurt.”

I looked down one last time at Drago’s body, blood pooling beneath him.

It was over.

But in the back of my mind—somewhere deep—I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d missed something. That somehow, some way…

This wasn’t finished.

The sounds of the fight faded, gunfire replaced by groans and the low rumble of engines being shut down. Some of the surviving Dragon Fire cowards dropped their weapons. A few lay face-down in the dirt. Chain and Thunder were rounding them up, barking orders, kicking guns out of reach.

“Got this one talkin’,” Thunder called, dragging a younger guy forward by the collar. Blood ran down the side of his face, but his eyes were still wild. “Says he’s got somethin’ Mystic needs to hear.”

I stalked toward them, jaw clenched. “Make it fast.”

The guy swallowed hard, glancing at Drago’s body, then back at me. “It’s too late,” he said, voice shaking.

“What did you say?”

He licked his lips, hands trembling. “That’s what Drago meant… when he said you were too late. He had orders. Told us if he got hit, if he didn’t make it back…”

He trailed off, but I stepped in close, grabbing a fistful of his cut. “ Say it. ”

“He said burn the fucking place down,” the guy gasped. “Said to torch the clubhouse with Zeynep inside. Said she’s his and if he couldn’t have her, no one could.”

Time stopped.

The ground dropped out from under me.

A roaring filled my ears, louder than gunfire, louder than engines. My hands went numb, still fisted in his collar.

“No,” I breathed.

“Is your clubhouse on the side of the old rail yard?” Devil was quick to ask.

“Yeah. They’ve got a guy there on watch, he won’t wait long once word spreads Drago’s down.”

I let go of him and turned, grabbing my helmet with blood slick fingers.

Devil stepped into my path. “Mystic—”

“She’s still alive,” I said, trying to stay focused. “But not for long if we don’t move now.”

My brothers didn’t hesitate.

We were back on our bikes in seconds, tires spinning, engines screaming as we tore out of that clearing like the devil himself was behind us.

But he wasn’t.

He was lying in the dirt, bleeding.

And even dead… he’d set fire to my whole world.

***

WE TORE DOWN the backroad like demons riding into war, no words, just the roar of engines and the weight of one unspoken fear: we might be too late.

Then I saw it.

Smoke curling into the sky, glowing orange behind the trees like the gates of hell had cracked open.

“There—warehouse!” Thunder shouted, pointing through the trees.

Flames were eating through the roof, sending ash into the wind. My stomach dropped. I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until Spinner yelled, “We’re too late—”

Then it happened.

Crack.

A single gunshot split the air.

Close.

From the woods.

I didn’t wait. I jumped off my bike, tearing through brush and trees as the others followed behind. Branches slapped at my arms and my face, drawing blood, but it didn’t phase me.

Please, I thought. Please let that shot mean they’re still alive.

Another shot rang out, then a scream, high and raw.

Lucy.

We burst into a clearing, and the world snapped into focus.

Zeynep stood in front of Lucy, barefoot, dirt-streaked, her body positioned like a damn shield. Lucy was on the ground, her leg twisted beneath her, her face twisted in pain. She must’ve fallen.

The Dragon Fire asshole stood ten feet away, panting, furious, gun raised. Zeynep’s arms were wrapped around Lucy, her body trembling, as she tried to protect her.

The biker turned, hearing us come out of the brush and without a second thought I put a bullet in him.

I ran to Zeynep, my arms wrapping around her. “Are you hurt?”

She looked up at me, eyes wide, face pale, but that wall was still there. She didn’t lean into me. Didn’t speak.

Didn’t run either.

“She twisted her ankle,” she rasped, voice hoarse. “I… I wouldn’t leave her.”

I nodded, heart breaking open in my chest. “I saw, but it’s over now.”

Spinner dropped to his knees beside Lucy, cradling her face. “Baby—Jesus—look at me.”

Lucy sobbed, clinging to him like she would never let go again. “He was gonna shoot her… I tried to run but I—my leg—”

“I got you,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be okay, even with the ass whippin’ I have planned for you.”

Thunder and Chain appeared seconds later, weapons drawn, checking the perimeter.

“Clear,” Chain called.

Bolt glanced toward the flickering flames in the distance. “Warehouse is done for.”

Devil came up behind us, voice low and tight. “Get them to the bikes. Now.”

I bent to lift Zeynep, but she hesitated, her hand barely brushing my arm.

“I can walk.”

“You’re bleeding,” I said, staring at the cuts on her feet.

She didn’t argue. But she didn’t thank me, either.

Just let me pick her up, stiff in my arms, like she couldn’t decide if I was safety or another kind of danger.

I held her close anyway.

“It's over,” I murmured.

She didn’t look at me. Just whispered, “No… it’s not.”

And I knew she was right.

***

THE GATES SLAMMED shut behind us with a metallic clang that echoed through the night.

It rattled in my chest. In my bones.

We were in.

Safe.

But it didn’t feel like it.

Zeynep slid off the bike before I even cut the engine, barefoot, scraped up, and moving like something was still chasing her. No hesitation. No glance back.

Just gone. Like I didn’t exist. Like she was still in survival mode, and I was just another shadow behind her.

I yanked my helmet off and swung off the bike, boots hitting the ground hard as I stalked after her.

“Zeynep!”

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow.

Didn’t hear me or maybe wouldn’t.

“Zey—”

Inside her door slammed shut in my face.

I froze.

Breath heavy. Jaw tight. My hand hovered over the doorknob, but I didn’t move.

That slam hit harder than a punch. Knocked the wind right out of me. Everything still pumping hot from the ride—the adrenaline, the fury—it all turned cold.

Heavy.

Rage surged in my gut, not at her, not even close.

At him. At me . At the fucking world that continued to fuck me over.

The door creaked open again, and Brenda stepped out. I hadn’t even realized she was inside.

“Give her space,” she said, firm but not unkind.

“I gave her space,” I snapped, voice hoarse. “I’m done with that shit.”

Brenda didn’t flinch. “You aren’t helpin’ yourself.”

My chest heaved. “She needs to listen to me.”

“She will.”

“Not if I don’t push it.”

“You bust through that door right now, Mystic, and you’ll lose her for good.”

My fists curled tight at my sides. I could still feel her, like she was part of me. I fucking need her.

“She needs time,” Brenda said, softer now. “She ain’t in her body yet. She’s still trying to get absorb what’s happened and where she’s goin’.”

My voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Let me see her.”

“She’ll come to you. When she’s ready.”

I swallowed hard, throat thick. “What if she never does?”

Brenda didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

Because that was the truth I didn’t want to say out loud. Zeynep was back inside these walls, but she wasn’t home . Not really. I took a shaky breath and stepped back, letting Brenda go back inside.

I caught a glimpse. Zeynep, arms wrapped tight around herself, sitting on the edge of the bed like she didn’t know how to exist in her own skin. I let out a long breath, each second dragging behind my ribs. Then I turned and walked away, slow.

What the fuck do I do now?