Page 117 of Spinner's Luck

His hand shot out—fast—but not to hit me. Instead, he grabbed my chair and yanked.

Metal legs screeched against concrete, the sound sharp enough to rattle my teeth. He stopped when my face was a breath away from his.

“Youwillbe.”

My throat tightened, breath coming quick and shallow, but I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Couldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Drago studied me, green eyes cold, dissecting. Like he was peeling me apart, piece by piece. Then—he smiled. Slow. Predatory.

“Fang,” he said, voice smooth as glass, gaze never leaving mine. “Tell me something.”

Fang’s grin was audible. “Yeah?”

“How long do you think she lasts?”

The air thickened, heavy, suffocating.

Fang let out a low chuckle. “She’s got fire. I’ll give her that. But... couple more days? Maybe less.”

Drago’s stare drilled into me, unblinking. “Hmm. I say sooner.”

My jaw clenched so hard it cracked. Pulse spiked, traitorous, burning under my skin.

Then he leaned in. Too close. His breath—warm—brushed my ear.

“Every time you fight me, Lucy…” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “I take something from you.”

The words slid under my skin like a blade. Cold. Slow. Deliberate.

I swallowed the fear clawing up my throat, but I dared him. “Go ahead and try.”

He pulled back, smirk still curling at the edges of his mouth, wicked and patient. Like he already knew how this would end.

“Oh, I won’t have to,” he said, standing. His gaze flicked toward Fang. “Hewill.”

Fang grinned wide, and my stomach twisted into a knot of pure horror.

Drago didn’t offer another threat. Didn’t need to. He turned and walked away, steps echoing in the concrete box that reeked of rust and sweat.

The metal door slammed shut behind him, leaving me alone with Fang and his wicked grin.

The second it locked, Fang exhaled slow, his smirk turning into something darker.

“You heard him,” he said, voice full of something low and hungry. “Keep fightin’, and this gets worse. Remember last time? I sure as hell do, still gets my cock hard just thinkin’ about it.”

I sat perfectly still. Too afraid to move.

He took another step forward.

I clenched my fists, my wrists screaming against the zip ties.

Fang leaned down, his face too goddamn close.

“But we both know you like it rough, don’t you?”

I spit at him, teeth bared, wishing I could cut his fucking throat.

His hand shot out, fingers tangling in my hair, yanking my head back.