Page 10 of Spinner's Luck

For some reason, it made me chuckle. I liked that fire, it was part of what made her who she was. “Didn’t think it would be,” I said. “Now let’s go see your friend.”

THE AIR INSIDEthe clubhouse was almost suffocatingas Spinner led me down the hallway, his usual swagger tempered by something quieter. Why was that?

My stomach churned as I followed him, a heavy wave of foreboding hit me. The last time I’d seen Zeynep, she’d been laughing, her red curls bouncing as she spun me in a clumsy dance around the room. That memory kept me going through sleepless nights and dead-end leads since she vanished.

But now, with each step closer, a knot of dread twisted tighter in my chest, a feeling I couldn’t shake.

Spinner stopped outside a door and turned to me. “She’s in here.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat at the concerned look on his face.

“Just... be prepared,” he added, his voice softer. “It’s not easy to see.”

My heart dropped, but I didn’t let it show. “I’ll be fine.”

Spinner opened the door, and I stepped inside.

The room was lit by a lamp on the bedside table, the soft hum of a ceiling fan filling the silence. Zeynep lay on the bed with her face turned away, but even from here, I could see the bruises.

“Zeynep,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.

She slowly turned her head, and the sight of her almost took me to my knees.

Her left eye was swollen shut, the skin around it an angry mix of purple and yellow. Cuts lined her cheekbones and jaw, and her lip was split. A thick bandage wrapped around her neck, peeking out from the oversized sweatshirt she wore. Her hands were bandaged, and I couldn’t comprehend what had happened to my beautiful friend.

“Oh my God,” I said, taking a shaky step forward. “What did they do to you?”

Zeynep’s one eye filled with tears, and she shook her head, her throat working as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t. Spinner had warned me it wasn’t good, but seeing her struggle against the silence was unbearable.

“She can’t answer you.”

The voice came from the corner of the room, where I hadn’t noticed the hulking figure leaning against the wall.

His cut read Mystic.

He was tall, scarred, and damn scary, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His mismatched eyes burned with anger as they flicked between me and Zeynep.

He didn’t trust me.

“She’s still healing,” Mystic said, his voice hard and protective. “The bastards crushed her windpipe. Doc says she’ll talk again, but it’ll take time, so make sure you don’t upset her.”

My fists clenched at my sides. “I would never upset her.”

Mystic nodded, his jaw tight. “Just make damn sure you don’t.”

I turned back to her, sinking to my knees beside the bed. “I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice cracking. “I should’ve found you sooner. I should’ve—”

Zeynep was one of the strongest people I knew for having gone through so many unspeakable horrors. But seeing her like this, her spirit battered along with her body, made my anger on her behalf burn through me.

She reached out; her bandaged hand brushing mine. The small gesture stopped me in my tracks. Her gaze, though filled with pain, was now steady. She wasn’t blaming me. She was just glad I was here.

I swallowed hard, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re safe now,” I said, forcing the words out even as my chest tightened. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mystic shifted in the corner, his presence a constant reminder that I wasn’t alone in this. He’d been watching over her so protectively.

“You’re the one who pulled Spinner out of that fire,” Mystic said, his tone carefully neutral.

I glanced at him, nodding. “Yeah, that was me.”

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