Page 100 of Spinner's Luck

“Your dad was a piece of shit,” I snarled. “And my mother? Worse. But you—” I tightened my grip.

“You made up every fuckin’ thing you said to get close to me, didn’t you? My mother coached you on how toplay me, didn’t she?”

Her face twisted, but I didn’t stop.

“Yeah... that plan of yours?” I scoffed. “Crashed and burned. I wasn’t interested then, sure as hell ain’t now.”

She laughed.

A cold, mocking sound that scraped down my spine.

“Oh, come on, Spinner. You’re actin’ all high and mighty like you’re so different from us. But you’re not, are you?” She smiled now, biting and cruel. “Look at what goes on in that clubhouse. What you men do. You’re no fuckin’ saint.”

I wanted toshakeher. Wanted toscreamthat she didn’t know a goddamn thing about me, about the wreckage that bitch left in my childhood. Rage boiled just beneath my skin, every muscle coiled tight, ready to snap.

Then my mother’s voice sliced through the room like a goddamn lightning strike. “That’s enough, Hayden.”

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I moved back away from Ashlynn, chest heaving, blood pounding in my ears. Turning to my mother, I spat the words like venom. “Tell me why.”

She sipped her wine like she hadn’t just thrown a grenade into the room. Then she smiled,thatsmile. Cold. Hollow. The kind that twisted in my gut like a knife. “Because I know what’s best.”

I barked out a laugh, strong, bitter, tasting like blood and bile. “You’re full ofshit,” I snapped, taking a step toward her, fists clenched. “You couldn’t tell the truth if Jesus himself was standin’ in front of you.”

I turned, boots grinding against the floor as I stalked toward the door. I was done—so done.

But her voice came again, calm and poisonous.

“You’re going to regret walking away from me, Hayden.I know things.”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned my head, locking onto her dead, soulless eyes.

“That ship sailed when I wasfifteen,” I growled, voice low and lethal. “My mom’s been dead to me ever since.”

And then I walked out.

Didn’t look back.

Wouldn’t.

Fuck her.Fuck all of it.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

I HAD JUSTgotten back from confronting thosebitches and had no sooner set foot inside when the first loud bang sounded.

A bottle? Shattering?

The sound cut through the night, sharp and sudden, followed by shouting and the unmistakable roar of a bike engine—revving hard before choking off into silence.

My hand went to my gun on instinct, my pulse spiking as I pushed through the door and into the night.

Chaos was waiting for me.

A bike sat just outside the gate, engine dead, the front tire spinning lazily, a softwhirrrcutting through the eerie quiet. But the rider?

He wasn’t on it.

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