Page 32 of Spinner's Luck

“Are we clear?” Devil asked, sweeping his gaze over the table.

One by one, the men nodded.

“Good.” Devil stood, his presence commanding the room. “Meeting’s over. Get to work.”

Chairs scraped back as the men rose, their conversations quiet and tense as they filtered out. I stayed behind, staring at the table as Fang’s words played over in my head, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Spinner,” Devil said quietly.

I looked up, meeting his piercing gaze.

“Don’t let this get personal,” he warned. “I’ve got my hands full with Mystic already.”

I gave him a curt nod but didn’t say a word. It wasn’t about letting it get personal anymore. It already was.

I SAT ONthe worn couch in the corner of the clubhouse’scommon room, flipping through a magazine I wasn’t really reading. Ashlynn and her flock of biker Barbies were stationed nearby, throwing daggers my way with their glares. I ignored them, keeping my focus on the glossy pages, though my mind was elsewhere.

Fiona was out with her dad, Zeynep was resting, and the rest of the more tolerable women were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t dare disturb Zeynep—Mystic would bite my head off if he found out. Besides, something felt off. The men had been in their meeting for too long, and when they finally came out, the tension carved into their faces told me everything I needed to know: something bad was brewing.

The heavy thud of boots on the floor pulled my attention. Spinner walked in, his expression serious. Not angry, serious. Somehow, that was worse.

“You look like you’ve got something to say,” I said, closing the magazine and tossing it onto the table.

“We need to talk.”

My stomach twisted, but I kept my face neutral. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah... maybe...” He hesitated, glancing around the room before gesturing toward the door. “Let’s take this outside.”

I followed him to the back porch, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we stepped outside. The stars above were scattered like shards of broken glass against a black velvet sky. The peaceful view did nothing to calm the knot in my gut.

Spinner leaned against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment, he just looked at me, his jaw tight, like he was still figuring out how to say what needed saying.

“Words, Spinner. Use them,”I said dryly.“Preferably without all the damn circling.”

“Dragon Fire’s escalating,” he said, curiosity lacing his steady voice. “They seem real interested in you.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes. “What makes you think those assholes are interested in me?”

“Fang mentioned you,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine.

The mention of Fang had my chest tightening. “What’d he say?”

“Something about sendin’ his regards,” Spinner said, his expression hard. “It’s bait, Lucy. They’re tryin’ to get under our skin.”

I let out a slow breath, keeping my voice steady even as anxiety coiled tight in my gut. Fang had made his move, and now the heat was closing in like a wildfire out of control. “Drago’s pissed I got Zeynep out. Now he wants blood—mine.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Spinner said, his tone as firm as the grip he had on the railing.

I raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan to stop it? Tie me to the clubhouse and post a guard twenty-four-seven? I’ve got to leave eventually.”

“If I have to,” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “You’re not leavin’ this place until we know it’s safe.”

“Spinner,” I said evenly, stepping closer. “I’ve been handling threats like this for years. I know how to take care of myself.”

“This isn’t just some empty warning,” he growled, his frustration cutting through. “Fang’s not some two-bit thug, he’s a goddamn predator. Cold. Calculated. If he’s got you in his sights, it’s ‘cause you’re a piece on his board, and he don’t play games he ain’t plannin’ to win.”

His words stuck, heavy and suffocating, because I knew he was right. Fang didn’t move without purpose, he was deliberate, patient, and vicious. I’d learned that the hard way. The memory of that day flickered at the edges of my mind, unwelcome but impossible to shake. The helplessness, the pain, the rage, it all simmered beneath my skin. And now he was back, pulling the strings, reminding me that I was still in his sights. That pissed me off more than it scared me. I refused to be his victim again.

---