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CHAPTER SEVENTY

HE WAS LATE again, too late to pretend it didn’t matter, and stupid enough to think I wouldn’t notice. I saw him the moment he slipped through the alley behind the bar, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched, head ducked low like a guilty dog hoping not to be kicked.

Perfect.

He’d been perfect from the start. I still remembered the first night I caught him, months ago now. A dingy bar on the outskirts of town, a place I went just to slum it once in a while. He’d been sitting alone, trying to blend in, but he wasn’t hard to read. My eyes landed on his cut before anything else, and it didn’t take long to figure out the kind of man he was. Weak. Eager. Playable.

So I played him.

I slid onto the stool beside him, gave him the softest smile I had, let my body do most of the talking. I leaned in close, every word a purr, every curve angled just right. You look like someone who could use some company, I whispered, and he practically melted in place. After a few staged moans, a compliment or two about how good he was, how different he made me feel, he was mine. Hooked. Owned. And just like that, I had my inside man.

But now?

Now he looked nervous. Jumpy in a way he hadn’t before, like something had shifted. Like he’d finally realized he’d handed me something far more valuable than a few cheap orgasms and the illusion of trust.

I waited, let him squirm in his own sweat. Jacob always fidgeted when he was nervous, his tell, and he didn’t even try to hide it. Especially now, after going silent on me for days without a single update.

I leaned against my car, arms crossed tight beneath my chest, one stiletto heel tapping against the pavement with a rhythm that said I was done waiting. He shuffled forward, guilt practically leaking from his pores like bad cologne.

“You fucked up,” I said coolly, my voice more observation than accusation, but just enough edge to make him flinch like I’d slapped him. “You didn’t tell me about that bitch.”

Already twitching. Already folding.

“I didn’t think it was important,” he mumbled, eyes not quite meeting mine.

I straightened slowly, let the silence thicken between us before I spoke again. “You didn’t think Kain suddenly staying locked away in a woman’s room was important?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, the words dying before they reached his lips. Good. Maybe he was finally realizing just how far over his head he’d waded.

“You told me he was just guarding her,” I said, stepping forward without warning, forcing him back until he bumped against the side of my car. “I could’ve done something. I could’ve ended it before it ever started.”

“I didn’t know it started!” he blurted, panicked, hands half-raised like he expected me to hit him. “I swear, I didn’t know they were… together.”

He looked pathetic. His shoulders slumped inward, eyes wide and watery like a kicked mutt begging not to be put down.

“Kain doesn’t just ‘guard’ women, Jacob,” I hissed, every word soaked in venom. “He’s a monster. He doesn’t let anyone in. If he was spending private time with her, she wasn’t just a job.”

He blinked fast, then added, almost too quickly, “They’re not together anymore.”

That pulled me up short. My pulse skipped, then steadied.

“What?” I asked, slowly, carefully.

He swallowed hard. “I heard Devil talking to Chain about it. Said she wouldn’t forgive him for lying about being married.”

Silence stretched between us, sweet, thick, and heavy.

And then my lips curled, slow and dangerous, the kind of smile that meant trouble was coming.

“Well, well,” I murmured.

He winced at my tone, shifting uneasily.

“There’s more,” he added, and my stomach tightened with a mix of anticipation and dread.

“What happened?”

“It’s Zeynep,” he replied.

Of course it was. That name again. The reason Mystic had finally cut the cord on our marriage. The reason I’d gone from threat to afterthought. From wife to nothing.

“Tell me what you know.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around like someone might overhear. “She ran away.”

I stared at him, the words not quite making sense. “What do you mean, ran away ?”

“She packed up and disappeared,” he said. “No warning. Just climbed into someone’s car and left.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And you waited until now to tell me this?”

He looked down at the ground, mumbling, “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought since they weren’t together anymore… I thought you’d be happy.”

He really was a terrible spy. Fucking pathetic.

“You thought wrong,” I said, stepping back and beginning to pace. “She’s still a problem.” I didn’t even bother to look at him as I asked, “Where would she go?”

He shrugged like the fool he was. “No clue. Nobody’s seen her. But… she’s in danger.”

That made me stop.

“What does that mean?”

“There’s someone else,” he said, quieter now, like even speaking the name gave it power. “Rival club. Guy named Drago. Bad news. Real bad. Word is, he had her before Mystic did. Mystic pulled her out. That’s why she’s been hiding all this time.”

Drago.

I rolled the name over in my mind. Harsh. Dangerous. Interesting.

“So she ran,” I said slowly. “Alone. No protection. And she used to belong to someone else…”

He nodded, regret written all over his face as he second guessed confiding in me. It was too late for that.

I smiled again, small, sweet, manipulative. The kind of smile that kept men like Jacob dangling a little longer than they should.

“Thanks, Jacob,” I said, brushing my fingers against his chest. “You’ve been so helpful.”

I kissed him once—light, teasing—then pulled him into the backseat, even though the thought of touching him made my stomach turn. A woman does what she has to do to protect what’s hers.

***

FINDING HER WASN’T supposed to be hard.

I’d followed my intuition as a woman in where she might be. She was scared, desperate, and not used to this side of the world, girls like that didn’t make clean getaways. They ran fast, but not far. And when they hid, they picked the kind of places that didn’t ask too many questions.

The motel clerk barely looked up when I slid a folded bill across the counter. Cash always worked better than charm in places like this. His fingers grazed the register, then he nodded toward the faded logbook.

“Pretty. Red hair. Alone,” I said, keeping my voice low, like we were sharing something dirty.

He scanned the log, thumb skimming down the list. “206,” he said after a beat.

That was the moment I thought I had her.

But when I reached the door—when I knocked, waited, and got nothing—I realized too quickly something was off. I knocked again, harder this time, but the silence inside didn’t budge.

I didn’t have a key. Didn’t want to risk drawing attention by forcing it. So I went back to the desk, this time leaning in a little more, tilting my head like I gave a damn about the man behind the counter.

“Can you tell me if she’s still here?” I asked, tapping the room number. “She’s my cousin. I think she might’ve left.”

He frowned, leaned back, and checked the screen. “Room’s still rented to her, she might be out.”

I smiled, polite and tight, then turned on my heel and walked out before the disappointment could show.

So I’d wait, shit it may not even be her.

I crossed the parking lot slowly, the night cool against my skin. My heels clicked across cracked pavement, sharp and deliberate, like I could grind the frustration right into the ground if I pressed hard enough.

I should’ve left. Should’ve gotten in the car, driven back, started reworking my plan. But instead, I found myself walking across the lot and into the rundown bar next door.

It reeked of filth and decay, but I had a mission and so I sat down. I ordered something simple and cheap, let the glass sweat in my hand while I sat near the back and waited.

And then I heard it.

“Evenin’ Drago.”

“Any word on Zeynep?” he asked the bartender.

The name froze me. Not the way someone calling your name makes you turn, but the way hearing your ex-lover’s name in bed with someone else stops your breath.

I turned my head slowly.

He was tall, broad shoulders, thick neck, clean cut in the way that didn’t fit, but still dirty in the way that said it hadn’t stuck. The leather cut stretched across his back read Drago in bold, stitched letters on the front, and the look in his eyes was unmistakable.

Obsession. Territory. A predator scenting blood in the water.

He wanted her. And not just in the way Kain had, Drago didn’t look like a man who fell in love. He looked like a man who took what he believed was his.

I watched him from the shadows for another minute, weighing my options, letting the edges of a new idea form in the back of my mind.

I hadn’t found her for sure. But maybe I didn’t need to, not if I could use someone else to do it for me.

I stood, walked toward the bar like I had every right to be there, hips swaying just enough to be noticed without looking desperate. He didn’t look at me until I was nearly beside him, his eyes surprisingly disinterested. What the fuck did that bitch have in her veins to keep men tied to her?

“I have information you want to hear,” I said, letting the words roll off my tongue like honey laced with glass.

He raised an eyebrow, sizing me up like a man deciding whether I was worth his time, or a threat.

“I know her,” I continued. “You’re looking for Zeynep... maybe I can help you find her.”

For a second, he didn’t move. Just stared.

Then his mouth curved, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. I’d have to be careful with this one, he was dangerous.

“Start talking,” he demanded.