Page 57 of Spinner's Luck

For a second, I considered throwing her out. Telling her to get the hell out of my shop and my life—for good. But something in her tone stopped me. It wasn’t her usual meddling; it was deliberate, like she wanted me to question Lucy. Like she knew something I didn’t.

And that pissed me off more than I wanted to admit.

“Who told you that shit?” I demanded.

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it damn well does. So tell me who’s carryin’ information they have no right to talk about.”

She faltered. “I can’t say.”

“Fine. You’ve said your piece,” I growled, stepping back and pointing to the door. “Now get the hell out. And don’t come back.”

She opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but one look at my face must’ve told her it wasn’t worth it. With a sharp huff, she turned on her heel and walked out, the bell jingling again as the door swung shut behind her.

I stood there, the silence settling heavy around me, and tried to shake the storm building in my chest. But her words stuck like barbs in my mind.

What did she know about Lucy? And how the hell did she know it?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I PACED THElength of the table, my boots strikingthe wood with a sharp, steady rhythm that matched the anger boiling under my skin. Around me, the men sat, some tense, others more at ease.

Fang leaned back in his chair, dragging on a cigarette like he didn’t have a care in the world. Beast was silent, arms crossed, watching me like he always did, waiting for the storm to hit. Jinx and Scorch, meanwhile, fidgeted like cornered rats, probably wondering if I was going to lash out at them.

“Those fuckers destroyed a very expensive shipment. That’s going to cost us a lot of green,” I snarled.

“We figured they might hit back,” Fang said casually, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“I thought they’d turn over Zeynep and Lucy instead,” I admitted through clenched teeth.

“Maybe they’re still gettin’ information out of them,” Beast said.

“Maybe Lucy, but not Zeynep.” My jaw tightened, and I could feel the anger rising in my chest. “They fucking almost killed her.” My voice dropped to a growl, the kind of tone that sent a chill through the room. “My ol’ lady beaten so bad she can’t even talk.”

Word hit me this morning about her condition. No wonder she hadn’t come back—shecouldn’t.

I stopped pacing and slammed my fists down on the table, the crack of wood cutting through the tense silence. “And it was our men that did it—” I turned my glare to Fang, my voice rising— “and when I find out who ordered it, they’ll join the ones responsible in hell.”

Fang smirked, tapping ash onto the table. “She’s still alive, isn’t she? Bit of a dramatic overreaction to a piece of pussy, Drago.”

It took everything in me not to reach across the table and wipe that smirk off his face. Instead, I straightened, fixing him with a look that would’ve made most men back down.

“She’s not some random bitch,” I growled. “She’s mine.”

“She’s not yours,” Beast muttered, his deep voice cutting through my angry haze.

My head snapped toward him, my fists clenching at my sides. “What did you just say?”

Beast didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. “I said she’s not yours, Drago. Not if you have to beat it into her.”

The room went deathly quiet. The kind of silence that pressed on your ears and made your pulse thunder. For a second, I thought about killing him. My fingers twitched with the need to grab something—anything—and throw it at him. But I let out a bitter laugh instead and turned away.

The men in this room were experienced, and I needed them.

Still, I filed away his comment. When the time came, he’d pay.

“She was never supposed to be hurt,” I said finally, my voice quieter now but no less pointed. “Now she’s in their hands, and if she starts talking—”

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