Page 27 of Spinner's Luck

The image of him was burned into my mind, clear as the day I found him. My hands curled into fists, knuckles white, as my thoughts shifted to my mom. She didn’t find him—not the way I had. Didn’t see the aftermath of what her betrayal had done.

I’d spent months in that psychiatric ward after it happened. Months staring at white walls and sterile ceilings, too numb to care if the world kept turning without me. I’d shut down completely, disconnected from reality. But then, one day, I snapped out of it. Woke up in the shell of my own life, only to find it filled with something worse.

A new stepdaddy.

It didn’t take long to piece together the truth about that awful day. The yelling, the slammed doors, the empty bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter when I came home from school. She’d already moved on before the ground over Dad’s grave had settled.

The whispered words I’d overheard one night explained everything loud and clear.

The rage that had smoldered in the back of my mind ever since reignited, hot and sharp. I left not long after, couch-surfing with friends, bouncing around wherever I could find a roof and some peace. She still tries to reach out sometimes, her voice all honeyed regret, but forgiveness?

No. That’s not in me.

Because she’s my mom is the only reason she still walks.

But her new husband, mystepdaddy,didn’t get that courtesy.

My grip on the beer bottle tightened again, and I forced myself to breathe. My pulse slowed, but the bitter taste in my mouth didn’t go away. It never did.

I leaned back in the chair, letting the clubhouse noise filter back in, grounding me. For all my demons, I had built something here. I had these men, this family, and now Lucy. And I’d be damned if I let my past poison that too.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE NIGHT WASperfect for making a statement, thekind of suffocating heat that made tempers short and a moonless sky that swallowed everything whole. I leaned against my bike on the side of the highway, the glow of my cigarette the only light around, except for the approaching headlights cutting through the dark.

“There they are,” Fang muttered, his voice laced with anticipation.

I smirked, flicking the ash off my cigarette. “Right on time. Devil’s little errand boys.”

The truck rumbled closer, and I straightened, feeling the adrenaline kick in. This wasn’t about the cargo, it was about sending a message. A statement. Nobody crosses me and lives to forget it.

They had my ol’ lady locked up in that clubhouse, and I wanted her returned. As for Lucy? Fang’s obsession with her was his own mess, but she’d be dead before he could have her. And Zeynep? She’d cry for her friend when I killed the bitch in front of her. A perfect punishment.

Zeynep brought this on herself by running away.

The truck slowed as it neared, the driver clearly spotting us. By the time it rolled to a stop, my crew and I had already surrounded it, our engines growling low and threatening, like a pack of wolves closing in.

I stepped forward, my boots crunching on the gravel, the crowbar heavy in my hand. The truck’s windows were down, and I could see the driver—a prospect, barely old enough to grow a beard. His face was pale, tight with fear. Perfect.

“Evening,” I called, letting the smirk stretch across my face. “Nice night for a drive.”

The kid gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “Drago,” he stammered, his voice shaky. “Look, we’re just—”

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” I interrupted, stepping closer. “Running Devil’s errands. Moving club business onmyroads.” I slammed the crowbar against the truck’s grill, making the kid jump. “See, that’s the problem. You Devils think you own everything. But you’re wrong. These roads? They belong to Dragon Fire now.”

The passenger door opened, and out stepped an older guy, one of Devil’s lifers, Flick. His hands went up, his voice calm but cautious. “You don’t wanna make trouble, Drago. You’ll sure as hell regret it.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, but my eyes stayed cold. “Regret?” I let out a short, humorless breath, shaking my head. “You think your pussy club scares me?”

Before Flick could go for his gun, Fang moved. One second he was leaning casually against his bike, and the next, he had the man pinned against the truck, a gun pressed to his temple.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere,” Fang said, his voice soft and deadly.

Flick hit the truck hard, his breath coming in short gasps. “Just kill me and get it over with. I ain’t talkin’.”

I shook my head slowly, stepping around to the back of the truck. “See, it’s not about talking. It’s about sending a message.” I grinned, slamming the crowbar against the truck’s rear lock, breaking it in one hard swing.

With a nod to one of my men, we yanked the doors open to reveal the load, boxes stacked high with crates of supplies and cases of liquor. The kind of goods that were meant to stock the clubhouse.

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