Page 116 of Spinner's Luck

He smirked, reaching out, brushing a knuckle along my jaw. Slow. Lingering. Possessive.

I jerked away, my pulse hammering.

Fang let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like we were a couple having a misunderstanding, instead of a woman who would rather die than let him win.

“Still fightin’.” His voice was almost fond. “Don’t you get it? That’s what I love about you, Lucy. You don’t break easy. Turns me the fuck on.”

Fang stood and pulled out a knife ready to cut the zip ties and my heart stopped—this was it, he was going to rape me. Then the sound of heavy boots against the concrete cut through the warehouse, echoing loud against the huge space.

Fang’s smirk disappeared.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Then—Drago stepped into view.

His presence was a slow-moving storm, controlled and deadly. Dressed in all black, his expression smug, his steps calm and deliberate.

“That’s enough,” Drago said, voice smooth, but full of ice.

Fang barely twitched, but something in his shoulders tightened.

“Just talkin’,” Fang said lazily, but his jaw was set tight.

Drago didn’t even glance at him. His eyes locked onto mine, assessing, calculating. He saw everything. My cuts, my bruised wrists, the exhaustion pulling at my body.

And he didn’t care. Not that I thought he would.

“She still won’t talk?” he asked Fang.

Fang let out a low, bitter laugh. “Nope.”

Drago stepped closer, slow, his boots clicking against the concrete. Measured. Like a man who always had control, who never needed to raise his voice to make people listen. Not when he could torture them.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Lucy,” he said.

I stayed silent.

His head tilted. “You think silence will save you?”

I smirked, my lips dry, cracked. “No. But it pisses you off, and that’s enough for now.”

Fang grinned at that, but Drago’s face didn’t change.

“You misunderstand, bitch,” Drago said. “This isn’t about me. This is about you. How much pain you want to go through before you give me what I want.”

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t let it show.

Fang leaned back in his chair, watching. Enjoying the show.

Drago crouched in front of me, his voice lowering like he was talking to a child.

“Where is Zeynep’s room in that clubhouse? How well guarded is she?”

I didn’t flinch. “Go to hell.”

Drago exhaled, slow, almost disappointed.

“You’re not afraid enough yet,” he murmured.

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