Page 83 of Spinner's Luck

His honesty was there plain as day, cutting through the doubts I’d been holding onto. I nodded slowly, the adrenaline starting to build. “Tell me what you know,” I demanded. “Every detail. We’ll take it from here.”

Devil pushed off the wall, his voice reminding me he was in charge. “My office.” He was already moving, not waiting to see if we’d follow.

Oliver hesitated, his shoulders stiffening like he wanted to run out the door. But then he caught my glare and nodded, falling in step behind Devil.

As we walked, I couldn’t shake the fear running through my body. Lucy was out there, too close to danger, too far out of reach. And now this guy—this stranger—was the only lead we had.

DEVIL’S OFFICE WASN’Tmuch to look at—justa worn desk, a few mismatched chairs, and walls lined with club photos, memories of battles won and lost. A stack of paperwork sat beside his laptop, and a framed picture of his late wife sat front and center, big and shiny, like a shrine.

Oliver stood just inside the door, his back stiff, but his hands fidgeted at his sides, a man walking a tightrope with no net beneath him. Devil sat behind the desk, his eyes locked on Oliver like a predator sizing up prey. Mystic leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Chain perched on the edge of the desk, unmoving, his face unreadable but razor-focused.

And me? I couldn’t fucking sit still.

My boots scuffed against the floor as I paced, my nerves shot to hell. Every damn second Oliver dragged his feet was another Lucy spent out there, alone, with Fang and Drago circling like wolves scenting blood.

“Start talking,” Devil said, his voice calm—too calm. The kind of calm that came before bloodshed.

Oliver swallowed hard, licking his lips like he was trying to find the right words. “Lucy’s been laying low in Charleston,” he started, his voice shaking just enough to notice. “She’s been careful—changing places, staying off the radar—but it’s not enough. Fang’s been asking around, throwing cash at anyone who might know where she is.”

“Why the hell hasn’t she left the area?” I snapped, frustration snapping through my control. This wasn’t like Lucy. She was smart. Calculated. Staying this close to Dragon Fire was a suicide move.

Oliver shifted, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “She’s tracking their shipments at the docks. Trying to get proof they’re moving people.”

My stomach turned.Human trafficking. I should’ve fucking known.

“She figured they’d assume she’d run farther—North Carolina, maybe the mountains. At first, it worked. But...”

“But Fang’s not stupid,” Mystic cut in, his voice low, his arms tightening across his chest.

Oliver nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah. He’s been sniffing around the docks, asking about a woman matching her description. Word is, he’s paying people to keep an eye out for her. But here’s the real problem...”

He hesitated, flicking a glance around the room before continuing.

“They think she’s just running. They don’t know she’s been watching them. That she’s been inside their clubhouse, digging into their operations, gathering proof to burn them to the ground.” He exhaled sharply. “If they find out? It won’t be a quick death.”

“They’ll carve her up,” Chain finished grimly. No hesitation. No doubt.

Oliver nodded, jaw clenched. “Right now, Drago thinks she helped Zeynep escape and Fang’s still obsessed with her. But if he figures out she’s been keeping tabs on his business?”

He didn’t need to finish.

The air shifted, heavy and fucking suffocating.

“Maybe she just missed a check-in,” Chain offered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“No,” Oliver said immediately, his voice strong despite the tension rolling off him. “If Lucy says she’ll check in, she will. Something’s wrong.”

I stopped pacing. “How close is Fang?”

Oliver swallowed hard. “Too close.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced the words out. “Last time I heard from her, she was watching Dragon Fire at the docks. But I don’t think she could leave even if she tried. Fang’s men are watching the roads, the bus stations... She’s trapped.”

“Are these the same docks you lured us to before?” Devil asked, his eyes narrowing, a cold edge sharpening his expression.

Oliver hesitated. For a split second, he looked like he might lie. But then, with a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand down his face.

“She’s gonna skin me alive for this. Might as well dig my own grave now.”

He stared at his shoes, like the floor might offer him salvation, then looked up. “She’s been holed up at some rundown motel near the docks. Room 112. But she made it real clear—no one was supposed to know.”

---