Page 50 of Spinner's Luck

Devil’s smile was a slow draw of a knife, controlled, deadly. “Just like Fang. One shot. If he misses, he won’t get another.”

The tension around the table shifted—sharpened. No one doubted Devil. You didn’t sit at the head of The Devil’s House MC without spilling blood for it.

The chair creaked under me as I leaned back again, grabbing for my spinner again, my fingers moving. “Anything else we should know?”

“Just this, don’t hesitate. Drago’s waiting for an opening to bury whoever he can. Don’t give him one,” Devil warned.

His words hung heavy in the air as the men started to shift, chairs scraping back, the tension electric. I stood, my boots scuffing against the floor as I pocketed my gadget again and nodded to Bolt.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his grin a wicked edge, all teeth and trouble.

“Always,” I said, my voice calm but sure.

As I stepped out of the room, the noise of the clubhouse wrapped around me, the sound of voices, the clink of bottles, the faint bassline of music thudding through the walls. Tomorrow wasn’t just about destroying a shipment. It was about territory, respect, and a message that would burn into the minds of every bastard thinking about crossing us.

It was time to remind them why you didn’t mess with The Devil’s House MC.

LUCY STOOD OFFto the side, arms crossed, her gaze cutting through us. She wasn’t just watching, she was dissecting, reading between the lines of a conversation we hadn’t even spoken yet. There was danger in her silence, an edge beneath that calm exterior. Her expression wasn’t just curious, it was knowing. Calculated. Like she was already three steps ahead, waiting to see if we’d catch up. It was trouble.

Then she shifted.

Just like that, the room’s attention snapped to her.

She didn’t flinch under their stares, not even when her eyes met Devil’s, burning with a defiance that wasn’t smart.

“What’s going down?” she asked, her voice cutting through the air like a whip.

I stiffened.

Fuck.

She was about to start some shit, and I knew it. Once again, she was forcing me to show her this side of me.

Club business was off-limits.

“Nothin’ you need to know about,” I said before Devil could respond, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” My jaw was tight. “This isn’t your business.”

A sharp, bitter laugh broke from her lips. Meant to cut. Meant to piss me off.

“Last I checked, Fang made it my fight when he put my name in his mouth and on that damn doll.”

My teeth clenched. “I’ll handle him.”

The room went still.

The kind of silence that carried weight.

The guys exchanged amused glances, like they were waiting for a show. Devil looked like he might step in, but Lucy wasn’t about to let him.

“You don’t get to make that call, Spinner,” she said, her voice low but steel-hard. “I’m not some glass doll you can shove on a shelf while you charge into battle.’

A muscle ticked in my jaw as I dragged a hand through my hair, fighting for control. “This isn’t about you not being capable, Lucy. It’s about keepin’ you safe.”

She stepped in closer, eyes burning into mine. “And what happens when Fang decides to come after me while you’re off playing biker badass? You think I’m safer sitting here with no plan, just waiting for him to make his next move? What if Dragon Fire is luring you out?”

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