Page 75 of Spinner's Luck

“Take your time,” Mystic murmured, cutting me a glance. It was a warning. Be patient.

Zeynep’s eyes flicked to the photo and the cut. Her jaw clenched, a spark of anger breaking through her fragile demeanor. “It’s... a lie,” she said, the words scraping their way out of her throat.

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees. “Then what is it? It looks like Lucy has somethin’ going with Fang.”

Her gaze sharpened, the anger behind it unexpected and fierce. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Lucy... she hated him.”

“Zeynep,” Mystic interjected gently, “you don’t have to push yourself.”

She shook her head, defiance in the gesture, and forged on. “Fang... fixated on Lucy. He wanted her. I warned her... he was dangerous. She didn’t listen.”

“Why? What happened?” I asked, keeping my tone even, though the dread coiled in my chest.

Zeynep took a deep breath, gripping Mystic’s arm as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “Drago,” she croaked, her voice barely audible. “He... punished.”

“Punished you how?”

Mystic straightened, his expression hardening as he waited for her answer.

Zeynep’s lips pressed together, her eyes shutting tight like she needed to gather the strength to keep going. “Not me,” she whispered hoarsely. “Lucy.”

Her words slammed into me like a freight train. “Lucy?” I repeated, my voice tense with disbelief.

Zeynep’s eyes opened, locking onto mine with a desperate intensity. “Drago ordered it. Fang... attacked her... because of me.”

The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. “Attacked her how?”

Zeynep’s hands trembled in her lap, her nails digging into her palms. “He hurt her. Tried to... break her.” Her voice cracked again, tears glistening in her eyes as she pushed through. “She fought until he knocked her out. She wasn’t... conscious when he... but I wasn’t allowed to look away.”

Mystic leaned closer, concern crossing his features. “That’s enough,” he said firmly, his protective tone leaving no room for argument.

But Zeynep wasn’t done. “She... she got me out,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “If it wasn’t for her... I’d still be there.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I stared at her, my mind racing to piece it all together. The photograph. The accusations. Every doubt I’d had. And then it clicked, every shattered fragment falling into place.

“The photo,” I said, my voice rough.

“Fake,” Zeynep spat, her raspy voice trembling with conviction.

I leaned back, the chair creaking under me as the weight of her words settled over me like a lead blanket. Lucy hadn’t betrayed me. She hadn’t betrayed the club. Every damn thing I’d thought—every ugly word I’d thrown her way—had been wrong.

“Do you know where she’d go?” I asked, my voice tight, desperation bleeding through.

Zeynep’s shoulders slumped. “No,” she whispered, the fight in her voice fading.

Mystic ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Enough. You’re going to do real damage if you keep pushin’ yourself.”

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. The room felt like it was closing in, the guilt suffocating me. Lucy had tried to warn me, and I hadn’t listened.

“Where the hell do we start lookin’?” I muttered, my voice rough.

Devil stood, his expression grim. “Wherever she is, we need to find her before Fang does.”

Zeynep reached out, her thin fingers grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. “Find her,” she rasped, her eyes pleading. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

I nodded, my jaw tightening. “I will.”

As I walked out of the room, my chest felt like it was caving in under the weight of my fucking stupidity. Lucy had been holding back because Fang had beat and raped her and she didn’t know how to tell me. She’d risked everything to save Zeynep. And now it wasn’t just about making things right.

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