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CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

THE CLUBHOUSE WAS a storm, and I was the fucking lightning rod.

Tension coiled in the air, thick, suffocating, electric. It pressed down on us, on me, with a weight I could feel in every muscle, every breath. A stranglehold I couldn’t break. Not until we had a lead. Not until we had her.

I stood in the meeting room, fists planted on the scarred wooden table like weights trying to keep me from losing my goddamn mind. My breath came in short, jagged pulls, lungs working overtime just to stay steady. But there was no steady left in me.

"Tell me you’ve got somethin’,” I growled, voice rough with gravel and rage. It came out lower than I expected—quieter—but full of promise. A threat in disguise.

Across from me, Kickstand’s fingers danced over his laptop, the glow from the screen painting his face in cold blue. His mouth was drawn tight, jaw clenched, shoulders hunched like he was bearing the weight of every dead end.

Beside him, his ol’ lady, Jaycee, was all focus and fire. Her eyes scanned a second screen like she could will the truth to appear. Oliver—Lucy’s friend, quiet, smart, always watching—sat stiffly over a tablet, eyes flicking between windows, the tension in his frame vibrating like a live wire.

“We’re working on it,” Kickstand muttered without looking up. “Drago’s smart. He’s leaving breadcrumbs, not a fucking map.”

I slammed my palm on the table. “Then move faster.”

My voice cracked like a whip, slicing through the static in the room. I didn’t care if it scared anyone. I needed action. I needed blood.

“Mystic.”

Devil’s voice cut through the rising heat in my chest, measured, grounded, a command wrapped in calm. I didn’t even glance at him.

Chain moved in next, steady as a rock, setting one heavy hand on my shoulder. “You losin’ it won’t help her,” he said, giving me a concerned look. “You know that.”

I jerked out of his grip, like the contact burned. “She’s out there with that psychotic son of a bitch, and we’re sittin’ here starin’ at fuckin’ screens.”

Chain’s jaw locked, his eyes going flat. “Yeah. And runnin’ blind gets people dead. You of all people should remember that.”

My molars ground together. I remembered. I remembered everything . Didn’t mean I could breathe through the panic clawing up my throat.

Kickstand cursed. “Wait—hang on. I got something.”

The room snapped to attention.

Jaycee leaned closer, her tone clipped. “Faint signal. Could be junk data, could be gold. There’s been a pattern of movement near a warehouse outside Savannah. Consistent pings. Not enough for a location, but it’s the first thread that hasn’t unraveled.”

“Coordinates,” I barked, already moving.

Devil stepped into my path, eyes hard. “We’re not rolling out half-cocked.”

I almost shoved him. Almost. “We don’t have time to wait.”

“And we don’t have time to bury you or her if this goes sideways,” he snapped back, tone giving a firm warning. “We do this my way or not at all.”

The silence that followed was a beast, huge, breathing, watching. Every part of me wanted to lash out. But this wasn’t just about me anymore. This was club. This was war. I forced a long exhale through my nose, trying to tame the fire under my skin.

“Then let’s get movin’.”

Devil nodded once. “Gear up. Twenty minutes.”

Everyone scattered. The room broke into motion. But something felt... off.

A missing piece.

“Where’s Lucy?” I asked, glancing around. Lucy wasn’t known for keeping her nose out of things.

Spinner straightened like a shot, alarm crossing his face. “What?”

“She’s not here,” I said, eyes scanning every corner. “That’s fuckin’ strange.”

Jaycee frowned. “Last I saw, she was in her room. Said she was compiling possible routes based on Drago’s habits. Never saw her come out.”

“Then where the fuck is she now?”

Spinner was already moving before I finished the question, panic creeping into his eyes. “She wouldn’t—she wouldn’t just—”

Kickstand jumped back on the keyboard. “Checking footage.”

Time slowed. The tension from earlier twisted tighter, sharper. The seconds dragged, each one a countdown I couldn’t see the end of.

Then—

Jaycee’s gasp cut through the air. “No…”

Kickstand’s voice was grim. “She left. Slipped out maybe thirty minutes ago.”

He pulled up the feed. There she was, small, quick, slipping through the shadows like a ghost with purpose. Determined. Reckless.

“She took her car,” Kickstand muttered, switching feeds. “Pulled out fast. Didn’t even hesitate.”

Spinner exploded.

“ FUCK! ” he roared, grabbing a chair and launching it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered. “She’s goin’ after Zeynep—alone!”

The room blew up.

“What the hell is she thinking!” Devil barked.

“We don’t even have the correct address yet!” Oliver added, voice hard with disbelief.

“She ain’t stupid,” I muttered, my stomach a coil of dread. “She’s lookin’. Same as us. Just not waitin’.”

I turned to Jaycee. “Send me every location you marked. Now.”

Spinner was already pocketing his keys. “Mount the fuck up. We’re rollin’.” His boots thundered down the hall, the rumble of his engine following seconds later.

I wasn’t far behind.

If we didn’t find them fast, if we didn’t move —this wouldn’t be a rescue.

It’d be a goddamn funeral.