Page 104 of Spinner's Luck
Then I turned and left, the door clicking shut behind me.
Outside, the morning air was cool against my skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and some flowery scent I couldn’t place. I moved quickly, keeping to the shadows, slipping past the quiet clubhouse toward the edge of the property.
I’d hidden my bag out back, tucked beneath a pile of scrap metal, and it was still there, exactly where I’d left it.
As I slung it over my shoulder, the guilt twisted inside me like a knife.
I wasn’t just leaving Spinner. I was leaving Zeynep, Brenda, the whole club. Even pissed at some of them, they had become part of me.
But it was the only way.
If I stayed, more people would die.
I’d lead Fang and Drago away, feed them the lie that Zeynep was with me, and keep running until I couldn’t anymore.
One last glance at the clubhouse.
Then I turned and slipped into the trees, the first rays of sunlight breaking through the branches above me.
This was the right thing to do.
At least, that’s what I told myself as I disappeared into the morning light.
CHAPTER FIFTY
THE FIRST THINGI noticed when I woke up was the cold.
The space beside me in the bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch.
For a moment, I thought maybe she’d just stepped out, maybe she was in the bathroom or grabbing coffee.
But then I saw it, the little things that didn’t sit right.
Her shoes were gone. The jacket she’d left hanging over the chair last night wasn’t there.
And my chest tightened.
“Lucy?” I called, my voice rough from sleep.
Silence.
The knot in my gut twisted hard as I sat up, scanning the room. My phone sat untouched on the nightstand.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, yanking on my jeans and T-shirt. The floor creaked under my weight as I stalked to the door, stepping into the hallway. I went down the hall and peeked in her room—no Lucy—fuck.
The clubhouse was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that didn’t feel right.
I headed straight for Zeynep’s room, half-hoping I’d find her there. Maybe she’d gone to check on her.
I knocked, pushing the door open a crack.
Zeynep sat cross-legged on the bed, a book in her lap. She looked up, her eyes widening.
“Spinner?” she asked, her voice still raspy from her injury.
“Where’s Lucy?” I fought to keep my expression calm.
