Page 31 of Spinner's Luck

“She’s got nothin’ to do with this,” I said firmly. “Lucy came here for Zeynep, and she’d never work for those bastards.”

“Can you be sure?” Devil asked, his eyes probing mine for doubt.

I met his gaze without flinching. “Yes.”

Rune leaned forward, his face dark with frustration. “Fang’s trying to mess with our heads. Make us question her. Make us turn her over, thinking we can’t trust her.”

“We can’t let this stand,” Gearhead growled, his fists resting on the table like twin hammers. “They came after our brothers, tried claimin’ our roads, and now they’re pullin’ this head game shit? We gotta hit back.”

“And we will,” Devil said calmly. He leaned in, his crimson gaze sweeping the room, unreadable yet burning with intent. “But we do it when we say so, not when Drago thinks he’s calling the shots. That bastard wants us to bite, to get sloppy, to hand him an opening on a silver platter. We don’t give him the satisfaction. Flick and Hunter are still breathing for a reason, it means Drago’s not done playing yet. And that? That pisses me off more than if he’d put ‘em in the ground.”

Chain leaned back in his chair, rubbing his jaw with a slow smirk. “So what, we’re just supposed to sit on our asses and wait for that snake to make his next move? Feels like a whole lotta bullshit to me, Devil. Drago’s playin’ chess, but I’d rather flip the damn board and put a boot to his throat.”

Devil didn’t even blink at Chain’s outburst. Instead, he leaned in further, his fingers tapping against the table in a slow, measured rhythm. The room was dead quiet, every man locked in on him like he was reading the gospel of war.

“You think I don’t wanna rip his throat out?” Devil’s voice was low, edged with the kind of patience that meant he’d already thought five steps ahead. “But that’s what Drago’s banking on, us going in blind, guns hot, and losing good men in the process. That’s not how we do this.”

He shifted his gaze, eyes like burning coals as they cut across the table.

“We don’t hit back loud, we hit back smart. Thunder and Mystic will keep tailing their guys, figure out who’s making their runs and where they’re stockpiling. Bolt, Chain, you’ll check in with our contacts at the docks—see if Dragon Fire’s been moving weight under our noses. Gatsby, I want you digging into their mechanics, see what shops they’re using to clean their cash. Drago’s got a network, and I wanna cut the legs out from under him before he even sees the blade coming.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

“When the time comes, we won’t just take our shot, we’ll take everything. Their money, their power, and stomp that fucking club into dirt. And then, when there’s nothing left for him to cling to, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes myself.”

A slow, dark smile curled his lips.

“Now tell me that don’t sound better than running in like a bunch of pissed-off idiots.”

Every man nodded in agreement and Bolt added, “We tighten security. Eyes on Lucy and Zeynep, and anyone seein’ Dragon Fire on our land doesn’t ask questions, they shoot.”

Devil’s gaze shifted to Mystic, who looked ready to tear someone apart with his bare hands. “They can’t have Zeynep,” Mystic snarled, his expression dangerous.

“They won’t stop until Drago’s dead,” Devil replied evenly.

“Then I’ll make it fuckin’ happen,” Mystic snarled.

Every instinct in me screamed that this would only escalate, but I kept my mouth shut, spinning the small gadget in my hands to calm the anxiety rising inside me.

“Spinner,” Devil said, snapping my attention back to him.

“Yeah?”

“I want every route they could be using mapped out,” he ordered. “Start with Georgia. Find where they’re vulnerable, and we’ll hit them when they least expect it.”

I nodded. “Got it.” My mind immediately began ticking through the maps I’d memorized as a kid in the psych hospital. Every road, highway, and back route in South Carolina and beyond, it was all burned into my brain.

“Did Lucy’s background check out?” I asked, knowing they’d had time to dig deeper.

“Yeah,” Gatsby said with a chuckle. “Lucinda May Luck. Twenty-eight, from Ocala, Florida. Clean record, no red flags. The only odd thing is she doesn’t seem to stay in one place. Her last permanent address was her parents’ place, which was sold three years ago.”

“She moves around for her investigations, tryin’ to get herself killed,” I muttered. At least she was clean. Kickstand would double-check, but I trusted Gatsby’s work.

“What do we tell Lucy about Fang?” Chain asked, his grin dark. “She’s hotheaded. If she gets it in her head to go after ‘em, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“She doesn’t need to know everything,” Devil said, his tone final. “She’s sharp, so she’ll figure out something is up, but make sure she knows we’ve got it handled. Tell her to stay put.”

I didn’t respond, my jaw tight. Lucy wasn’t the kind to sit back while others handled her problems. But if she ended up in Fang’s hands, it wouldn’t just be her life on the line—it’d be mine too when I went after her.

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