Page 130 of Spinner's Luck

Devil’s fingers drummed against the table, eyes narrowing. “We need to make sure there’s nothing left for them to find. Nothing that connects it to us.” His gaze cut to Gatsby. “Get on it. Find contacts at the port who can make shit disappear. We don’t need heat on us while we’re in the middle of a war.”

Gatsby nodded. “I’m on it.”

I leaned back in my chair, jaw tight. “Doesn’t change the fact that Drago’s got the upper hand. We went in expecting one thing, and he flipped the damn script. And Fang—” My voice cut off, frustration crackling in the air. “I should’ve put him in the ground when I had the chance.”

I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair. “He’s out there. He’s watching. And until we put him and Drago down, Lucy and Zeynep won’t be safe.”

Thunder leaned forward, gaze flicking toward Mystic. “What about Drago’s ol’ lady? She could lure him out.”

I didn’t think much of the question at first.

Until Mystic went stiff. Barely noticeable, but I caught it. His jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the table, tension rolling off him like a live wire.

Devil noticed too. His eyes sharpened. “You got something to say, brother?”

Mystic was silent for a long beat. Then he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. “She’s not bait.” His voice was low. Rough. “If we hit Drago, she’ll get caught in the crossfire.”

Thunder raised a brow. “We can protect her.”

Mystic’s jaw twitched.

I narrowed my eyes, watching him.

Mystic never gave a fuck about anyone outside the club. He was loyal, sure. A ride-or-die brother. But he wasn’t the type to give a shit about a woman.

Except this time.

Devil studied him for another long moment before leaning back.

Thunder smirked. “Drago’s obsessed with that girl. If we use her—”

“We don’t use women.” Mystic cut him off, his voice like iron. “Drop the fucking subject.”

The room stilled.

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. “Our job is to protect Lucy and Zeynep. Not take a chance on those sick fucks getting to them.”

Mystic’s eyes met mine. Dark. Guarded. But it was there—the truth he wouldn’t say.

He loved her. Even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Devil drummed his fingers on the table, watching Mystic like he was something interesting. “We won’t be using any women to fight our war. We’re men, not fucking cowards hiding behind a woman.”

Mystic didn’t react, but I saw the way his shoulders eased.

Devil stood, shifting the tension in the room like a switch flipped.

“This war’s gonna stay bloody,” he said. “I want everyone armed, locked, and ready to move at a moment’s notice. We’re done letting Drago and his crew take the first shot.”

A murmur of agreement passed through the room.

“Chain, coordinate with Patch’s boys when they get here. Spinner, you’re on defense—Lucy doesn’t leave the clubhouse unless she’s on the back of your bike, and I want double riders. Nobody rides solo. Mystic, you’ll guard Zeynep.”

I nodded once.

“Everyone else, get some rest while you can.” Devil’s gaze lingered on Mystic. “We’re gonna need clear heads for this one.”

One by one, the guys filed out.

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