Page 101 of Spinner's Luck

Instead, a body lay sprawled on the gravel, one arm twisted awkwardly beneath him, blood seeping into the dirt like spilled oil. The coppery scent hit me hard, turning my stomach to stone.

“Shit,” Mystic muttered, stepping up beside me. His boots crunched over the loose gravel, the sound too fucking loud in the quiet. “That’s one of ours.”

I already knew. The sight of the prospect—Troy—sent a bolt of ice through my gut. A fresh prospect. Barely twenty. His cut was torn, his face battered, and a knife was buried deep in his chest, the handle still slick with blood.

Thunder and Bolt were already on either side of the body, scanning the perimeter. Guns drawn, eyes hard.

“Anyone see what thefuckhappened?” Chain barked, stalking up beside us, his face twisted with rage, eyes darting from the blood-soaked gravel to Troy’s lifeless form. His fists clenched and unclenched like he was two seconds from swinging on the world.

“It was a gate change,” Mystic ground out, voice tight, barely leashing the fury in his tone. “Troy must’ve just rolled up. They came in fast, left him as a message.”

“Yeah, well, Igotthe fuckin’ message,” Bolt growled, jaw so tight it looked like his teeth might shatter. His gaze raked over the darkened road beyond the fence, eyes searching for shadows, for ghosts.

A doorslammedbehind us, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the thick night air. Heavy boots thudded on the worn wood steps.

Devil stepped out, red eyes burning like dying coals ready to reignite. His gaze swept over the scene, slow, deliberate. That silence of his wasn’t peace. It was the calm right before a storm rips the roof off.

“What the hell happened?” His voice was soft, too soft. The kind of quiet that meantsomeone was about to bleed.

I exhaled heavily, like my lungs were full of ash. “Just got here. But it doesn’t look good.” Understatement of the fucking year.

Mystic crouched, fingers ghosting over the torn leather of Troy’s cut. Blood soaked the patch like a goddamn signature. His hand stilled, tugging free a crumpled piece of paper—red-stained, edges curling.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, shoving it toward Devil like it burned.

Devil unfolded it slow, gaze slicing across the words. His jaw ticked, lips thinning to a hard line before he read aloud—voice like gravel scraping concrete.

“This is just the beginning if you don’t back off our shipments and return what belongs to us.”

The weight of those words hit us all hard, thick silence stretching around us. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Bolt let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair like it’d tear the frustration right out of him. “Let me guess,” he muttered. “They want Lucy and Zeynep.”

My fists clenched, knuckles straining bone-white. Rage curled in my gut—hot, black,vicious.“This was Dragon Fire,” I said, voice rough as broken glass. “Not the cartel.”

“Motherfuckers,” Thunder spat, pacing like a caged predator, boots grinding into gravel. “They’re gettin’ bolder. Droppin’ bodies at our goddamn doorstep now.”

“We should hit back,” Chain snapped. “Hard.Tonight.”

Devil’s gaze didn’t waver. He folded the note with the same calm a man might load a bullet. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Bolt shot back, voice cutting enough to flay skin. “Youfuckin’ kidding me?They just dumped a prospect on our property likegarbage,and you wannawait?”

Devil’s glare hit him like a blow.Lethal. Final.“We wait for Patch to put the plan together. I’m not sending men out half-cocked just ‘cause you’re pissed. War isn’t rage—it’sstrategy.You wanna win or just bleed out for pride?”

“This ain’t just some warning,” I ground out. “They’ll keep comin’.You know that.”

Devil exhaled through his nose, a sound like pressure building under steel. He nodded once, sharp. “Keep the women under guard. No one moves without clearance. No parties. No runs. No exceptions.”

“She’s not gonna like being locked down,” I warned, picturing the fire in Lucy’s eyes—the kind that burned through reason.

Devil’s gaze cut to me.Hard. Direct.“And Lucy is yours, yeah?” His voice was low, pointed.“Then you keep her in line. If Fang’s coming for her, she stays behind these walls. I don’t give afuckhow pissed she gets. We don’t cave to threats, and we sure as hell don’t hand over our own.”

He was right.Didn’t matter if Lucy liked it or not, I’d make her stay put. One way or another, it was happening.

The wind kicked up, swirling the thick scent of blood, gasoline, and burning rubber through the night air—cloying and familiar—reminding me of that night months ago.

And just like that... war wasn’t coming.

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