Page 87 of Spinner's Luck

I surged forward, closing the distance between us. Her breathing was shallow and ragged now, every step a little slower than the last. She was tiring.

One of my men rounded the corner ahead of her, cutting her off. For a split second, I thought we had her.

But Lucy wasn’t just fast, she was smart. Her knife flashed in the dim light, slashing across his arm before she darted past him. He stumbled, cursing as blood dripped onto the ground.

“Fucking hell!” I roared, pushing harder to catch up.

She veered sharply to the left, disappearing behind another stack of crates. I turned too late, my momentum slamming me into the edge of the stack. Pain shot through my arm as the metal bit into my skin, but I didn’t stop.

I pushed off the crates, scanning the maze of containers. My chest heaved, my fists clenched, and my mind raced.

She was gone.

“Spread out!” I barked, my voice sharp and furious. “I want every inch of this place covered! She couldn’t have gotten far!”

My men scattered, their footsteps fading into the distance, but I already knew it was useless. She’d slipped away, again.

For a moment, I stood there in the silence, my chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. She was good—better than I’d given her credit for. But no one could outrun me forever.

“Bask in your little victory while you can, Lucy,” I muttered, my voice a venomous whisper. “Because next time? There won’t be a next time.”

I gave myself a shake, coming back to the present. I turned sharply, striding back toward the docks where the cargo ship was pulling in. There was still business to handle tonight, and I wouldn’t let her distract me from that.

But the thought clawed at the edges of my mind. Lucy wasn’t just running. She was sniffing around like a goddamn narc.

And when I had her again, I’d decide whether to tell Drago, or keep this little secret to myself.

Either way, she’d pay for tonight.

THE DOCKS WEREtoo goddamn quiet. Not the kindof quiet that meant peace, but the kind that meant something was about to go sideways. The only sound was the slow, rhythmic slap of water against the pilings, a hollow echo swallowed by the thick, salty air. It sat heavy in my lungs, mixing with the gnawing dread curdling in my gut.

Oliver’s intel had been solid, Lucy was here. I’d seen her, a blur of movement slipping between the shipping containers, her silhouette visible even in the flickering, busted-ass dock lights. She was running, fast, desperate.

I had to get to her before Fang did.

That bastard was here too, regrouping after losing her trail. I could hear him, his men muttering low, pissed-off voices bouncing between the metal crates. They were circling like vultures, waiting for the cargo ship to dock, waiting to trap her like a cornered animal.

Not happening.

I kept to the shadows, my pulse a hammer against my ribs. Every step was deliberate, every breath controlled, but my mind was a wildfire of worst-case scenarios. If Fang got his hands on her first, if I was even a second too slow…

No.

My brothers were above, tucked into the roof of the warehouse, rifles ready, eyes locked on me, waiting for my signal. But all I cared about washer.

Lucy was out there, alone. And if I didn’t reach her first, I wouldn’t be pulling her into my arms—I’d be dragging her out of a grave.

I moved quickly, keeping to the shadows, my heart pounding harder with every step. Then I saw her.

She was crouched behind a stack of crates, her shoulders tense, every muscle coiled like she was ready to fight or run. Relief flooded through me, but it didn’t last long.

She looked like hell. Her hair was tangled, her clothes wrinkled and damp from the ocean air. But it was the look in her eyes that hit me the hardest—a wild, haunted look as she scanned the area, knife clutched tightly in her hand. She was running on fumes and raw adrenaline.

“Lucy,” I called softly, stepping out from the shadows.

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine. For a second, she froze, the fear on her face shifting into something colder—anger.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, standing and gripping the knife like she was ready to use it.

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