Page 113 of Spinner's Luck

I closed my eyes like I could actually relax in this rust bucket.

Lucy stayed rigid, back against the metal.

Didn’t matter.

She’d break eventually.

Lucy already had a taste of how persuasive I could be.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

LUCY WAS OUTthere. Alone.

I sat at the bar, white-knuckling the bottle like it had the answers I needed. Breath coming in short, sharp bursts. My body was wired so damn tight it felt like I’d snap, my mind stuck in a vicious loop of worst-case scenarios that clawed at me like a goddamn nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I’d torn through the streets, turned over every fucking stone. No sleep. Barely a bite to eat. And still—nothing.

Fuck.

The thought of her in Dragon Fire’s hands? It was driving me to the edge. Past the edge. I wasn’t sure what part of me was left that wasn’t burning.

The door blasted open, slamming against the wall. The room snapped to a halt. Heads turned. Conversations died mid-sentence.

I spun around, heart punching against my ribs.

Oliver stood in the doorway, chest heaving like he’d sprinted through hell. His eyes locked on mine—wild, panicked—and just like that, ice slid down my spine.

“Spinner!” His voice cracked, laced with raw urgency. “It’s Lucy. She’s in trouble.”

I was on him in an instant, shoving the stool back so hard it flew across the floor. “Where the fuck is she?”

He swallowed, his face pale and drenched in sweat. “She—she never showed. I was supposed to pick her up, but she wasn’t there. I knew something was off, so I started digging Hacked into some security cams.” He paused to catch his breath, guilt and fear thick in his voice. “Caught sight of a van. Bikes riding with it. Dragon Fire colors. Heading toward the docks. I—I’m sure they took her to a warehouse down there.”

Warehouse.

The word detonated in my skull. Rage slammed into me so hard my vision blackened at the edges.

Fang.

Fang fucking had her.

A sharpcrackrang out. Took me a second to realize it was the bottle in my grip, shattered. Glass cut into my palm, blood mingling with whiskey. I didn’t give a damn.

I shoved past Oliver, breathing like an animal on a leash too short. Muscles locked, fury boiling over. All I saw washer.Alone. Scared. And that bastard—Fang—grinning like the piece of shit he was.

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, firm, solid, immovable.

I twisted, ready to tear into whoever it was, a snarl already curling on my lips.

Devil.

His eyes burned into mine, calm in that was pissing me off. “Think, Spinner.”

“I don’t need tofuckin’ think,” I snapped, running my hands through my hair. “I need toget to her!”

“You need tocalm the fuck down,” Devil shot back, stepping closer, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “You forget who’s calling the shots here? You go running in like this, you’re liable to get her and you killed.”

His words were spot on. Didn’t make them any easier to swallow.

---