Page 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE AIR WAS wrong.

Too thick. Too still. Like the night itself was waiting for something to happen.

The clubhouse was alive, laughter, music, the scrape of chairs against wood, but it all felt muted, distant. A world apart from me.

My gut was tight, my nerves wired, my eyes drifting to the door over and over, scanning for something I couldn’t name. Something coming. Something close.

Lucy’s laughter rang out across the room, light and unbothered as she leaned into Fiona, her eyes bright. She wore that fire like armor tonight, and God help me, I wanted her even more for it.

Devil pushed through the door, his expression carved from stone, those piercing red eyes cutting through the noise and locking straight onto me. “Spinner.”

I didn’t wait for him to finish saying my name, I was already moving, instincts overriding thought as Lucy’s laughter faded into the background.

“What’s up?” I asked, though my gut had already twisted itself into knots.

“Dragon Fire made a move.”

“What kind of move?”

“They sent a message.”

Time seemed to narrow, the world shrinking until nothing existed but that statement. Air turned thin. Cold dread coiled in my chest, and deep down, I knew—this had to do with Lucy.

“Where?”

“Out by the gates.”

That was all I needed. I shoved through the door, boots striking the ground with purpose as the humid night closed in around me. The thick air clung to my skin, each breath heavy with unease.

By the time I reached the gates, the others had already gathered—Bolt, Mystic, Chain, the entire council—standing in a tight circle just inside the tree line, their bodies rigid, silence stretching between them. It was the kind of silence that spoke louder than words, the kind that settled over you right before all hell broke loose.

“What the hell is it?” My voice cut through the thick air, sharp and demanding.

Bolt shifted aside without a word, revealing what they had been blocking from view.

Two dolls.

Tied to a tree with a strip of leather.

The first was mutilated beyond recognition, its face smeared in crude red paint, a jagged blade rammed through its chest. The second doll was eerily intact—red hair catching the faint light—with a note pinned to its dress:

She belongs to me.

My gaze dropped to the first doll’s neck, where a scrap of paper hung limply. One word scrawled across it— Remember.

Anger didn’t just surface, it crawled up my throat, thick and burning, clawing at my insides.

Then—movement.

A shift in the trees.

My head snapped up, heart kicking into overdrive as something darted just beyond the tree line, a shadow slicing through the dark, watching.

Adrenaline poured like wildfire through my veins, and before I registered the thought, I lunged forward.

“Spinner!” Bolt barked, but I didn’t stop. Branches clawed at me, boots pounding against the dry earth, but it was too late, the shadow had vanished.

Behind me, the silence deepened, thick, oppressive, unrelenting.

Breathing hard, chest heaving, I turned back toward the others, a slow-burning fury tightening my jaw.

They were watching.

Devil’s voice cracked through the tension like a whip. “Thunder, Gatsby, Gearhead—search the woods. Now.”

No hesitation. The men peeled off in opposite directions, weapons drawn, vanishing into the darkness.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to breathe, slow in, slow out. Keep your head. Don’t lose it now.

“They’re gettin’ bolder,” Bolt muttered, eyes still fixed on the dolls.

“No,” Mystic growled, his expression furious. “They’re testin’ us.”

My focus locked onto the grotesque display, the message, the threat wrapped in twisted intent.

Lucy.

This was about her.

“How the fuck did they get this close?” I ground out, jaw tight enough to ache, fury burning hot in my chest.

Devil stepped up beside me, still calm as fuck. “We don’t move out of fear, Spinner.”

Fear? Hell no. This wasn’t fear, this was war brewing under my skin, seeping into my bones.

“You want to protect her?” Devil’s tone dropped, the weight of his authority pressing down like iron. “Fine. Do it. But do it smart. Dragon Fire wants us rattled, don’t hand ‘em what they’re after.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen. Not even close.

We turned back toward the clubhouse, but that damn doll—mutilated, the scrawled words—burned into my brain like a brand. Lucy needed to know.

I just didn’t want to tell her.

“Spinner.”

I froze.

Fuck.

Of course, she’d followed me out.

Lucy stood a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze unwavering. “What happened?”

I exhaled slowly, trying to rein in the storm inside me. “Let’s talk in private.”

I led her back to my room, the party noise dulling behind us until the door shut, sealing us off.

She didn’t waste time. Squaring her shoulders, she pinned me with those sharp eyes. “All right, Spinner. What the hell is going on?”

Jaw tight, I searched for the words that wouldn’t make her bolt, or worse, make her brush it off.

“Dragon Fire left a message.”

Her expression darkened. “What kind of message?”

“Out by the gate,” I said, stepping closer. “They left two dolls. One... had your name on it.”

No flinch. No blink.

Then—she laughed.

Laughed.

My patience snapped like a live wire. “This isn’t a fuckin’ joke, Lucy,” I growled, heat boiling up. “Dragon Fire’s not playin’. You need to take this seriously.”

“And what exactly do you want me to do about it?” she shot back, fire flashing in her eyes.

“I want you to listen, to let us handle this.”

“Let you handle it?” Her arms dropped as she stepped closer. “I’ve dealt with people like Dragon Fire long before I ever set foot in this clubhouse.”

“This is different,” I bit out, struggling not to lash out at her. “Drago’s got a crew. And nothin’ to lose.”

Her gaze softened, but that stubborn spark didn’t fade. “You can’t protect me from everything.”

Goddammit. I scrubbed a hand over my face, exhaling through clenched teeth. “Lucy—for fuck’s sake—I’m tryin’ to keep you alive.”

She closed the gap between us, her eyes gazing into mine.

“I know,” she whispered. “But you can’t protect me from everything.”

My fingers found hers, rough calluses brushing soft skin. “Don’t act like it doesn’t matter,” I rasped. “It does. You do.”

Something shifted, space disappearing until all that existed was her, me, and the heat thrumming between us.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.

“Good,” I said, voice gravel-thick. “Neither am I.”

Her breath hitched. “So... what now?”

“Now?” A smirk tugged at my lips as I backed her toward the bed. “Now we fuck.”

And when she hit the mattress and I followed, the rest of the world could go to hell.

Right now— this was all that mattered.

I LEANED BACK in my chair, spinning a small gadget between my fingers, letting it click softly. The air around the table was thick, heavy with the kind of anticipation that made your chest tighten. Devil stood at the head, his eyes cutting over the maps and papers like a blade through flesh—sharp, deliberate, already ten steps ahead. Nothing slipped past him. Hell, nothing ever had.

“We’re hitting their shipment,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet murmurs with authority. “It’s running through the old north route tomorrow night. Spinner, Bolt, Chain—you’re leading the charge with me. Rune, Gearhead, Thunder—you’ll cover the rear. Mystic will stay behind to oversee security on the clubhouse.”

I shifted forward, resting my elbows on the table. The gadget spun faster between my fingers. “What’s in the shipment?” I asked, curiosity riding me.

Devil shot a nod to Gatsby who tapped a folder on the table. “Drugs. High-end, pure. Word is, they’re moving enough weight to set up a pipeline through the south.”

“Figures,” Bolt muttered beside me, arms crossed like he was ready to fight the world. “Drago’s runnin’ for the cartel. Should’ve put him down the first time he stepped on our territory.”

“Patience,” Devil said, his voice soft but commanding. “This isn’t about starting a war just yet—not with the cartel involved. This is about reminding him why he doesn’t belong here. We destroy the shipment and get out. Clean. Quiet.”

I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. “Quiet’s not really our thing.”

The room rumbled with laughter, but Devil’s glare wiped the smirks off our faces. “Make it your thing this time, Spinner. We don’t need the ABC’s sniffing around because you couldn’t keep it low.”

“Got it,” I said, spinning the gadget one last time before shoving it into my pocket.

Mystic, sitting at the corner of the table, leaned forward, his brow furrowed. “You think Drago’s gonna show on the run?”

“I doubt it,” Devil replied, tapping his pen on the table. I should let him borrow a spinner; he seemed like he needed something to keep his hands busy. “But Fang? Maybe.”

I nodded, slow and deliberate, eyes fixed on nothing but the storm brewing in my head. Fang was a cocky bastard—the kind of guy who thought he could outsmart us, like the rules didn’t apply to him. Arrogant. Reckless. The kind of stupid that got a man killed. And the fact that he was gunning for Lucy?

Yeah.

That made him a dead man walking.

No doubt about it. His grave was already dug, I was just deciding how deep to bury him.

“And what’s the plan when we find him?” Chain drawled, that grin of his razor-sharp—sharp enough to gut a man without lifting a blade. There was violence flickering in his eyes, coiled tight beneath that laid-back exterior. Chain was a walking contradiction—laid-back as hell but so damn deadly when it counted.

Devil’s gaze swept over us, cold and cutting. “You make sure he regrets ever crossing us.” His voice was iron, no room for questions, no cracks in the command.

“Simple enough,” I muttered, though my mind was already spinning through the possibilities, none of them ending pretty.

Bolt stepped in, voice low but edged with caution. “What about backup? Drago’s crew don’t roll light.”

Devil jerked his chin toward the maps spread across the table. “Backup’s covered. Horse, Gatsby, and Flick are on lookout. You run into trouble, they’ll be in before you even call.”

It wasn’t a plan. It was a goddamn promise.

Rune cracked his knuckles, the sound loud in the room. “And if Drago himself shows?”

Devil’s smile was a slow draw of a knife, controlled, deadly. “Just like Fang. One shot. If he misses, he won’t get another.”

The tension around the table shifted—sharpened. No one doubted Devil. You didn’t sit at the head of The Devil’s House MC without spilling blood for it.

The chair creaked under me as I leaned back again, grabbing for my spinner again, my fingers moving. “Anything else we should know?”

“Just this, don’t hesitate. Drago’s waiting for an opening to bury whoever he can. Don’t give him one,” Devil warned.

His words hung heavy in the air as the men started to shift, chairs scraping back, the tension electric. I stood, my boots scuffing against the floor as I pocketed my gadget again and nodded to Bolt.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his grin a wicked edge, all teeth and trouble.

“Always,” I said, my voice calm but sure.

As I stepped out of the room, the noise of the clubhouse wrapped around me, the sound of voices, the clink of bottles, the faint bassline of music thudding through the walls. Tomorrow wasn’t just about destroying a shipment. It was about territory, respect, and a message that would burn into the minds of every bastard thinking about crossing us.

It was time to remind them why you didn’t mess with The Devil’s House MC.

LUCY STOOD OFF to the side, arms crossed, her gaze cutting through us. She wasn’t just watching, she was dissecting, reading between the lines of a conversation we hadn’t even spoken yet. There was danger in her silence, an edge beneath that calm exterior. Her expression wasn’t just curious, it was knowing. Calculated. Like she was already three steps ahead, waiting to see if we’d catch up. It was trouble.

Then she shifted.

Just like that, the room’s attention snapped to her.

She didn’t flinch under their stares, not even when her eyes met Devil’s, burning with a defiance that wasn’t smart.

“What’s going down?” she asked, her voice cutting through the air like a whip.

I stiffened.

Fuck.

She was about to start some shit, and I knew it. Once again, she was forcing me to show her this side of me.

Club business was off-limits.

“Nothin’ you need to know about,” I said before Devil could respond, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” My jaw was tight. “This isn’t your business.”

A sharp, bitter laugh broke from her lips. Meant to cut. Meant to piss me off.

“Last I checked, Fang made it my fight when he put my name in his mouth and on that damn doll.”

My teeth clenched. “I’ll handle him.”

The room went still.

The kind of silence that carried weight.

The guys exchanged amused glances, like they were waiting for a show. Devil looked like he might step in, but Lucy wasn’t about to let him.

“You don’t get to make that call, Spinner,” she said, her voice low but steel-hard. “I’m not some glass doll you can shove on a shelf while you charge into battle.’

A muscle ticked in my jaw as I dragged a hand through my hair, fighting for control. “This isn’t about you not being capable, Lucy. It’s about keepin’ you safe.”

She stepped in closer, eyes burning into mine. “And what happens when Fang decides to come after me while you’re off playing biker badass? You think I’m safer sitting here with no plan, just waiting for him to make his next move? What if Dragon Fire is luring you out?”

Before I could respond, Devil shut it down.

“Lucy.” His voice was hard, absolute. “Your ass stays here. Mystic and a crew will be on-site. If Dragon Fire has a plan, we’re not leaving the clubhouse unprotected. Now step down.”

Her eyes flicked to Devil, then back to me.

She didn’t look happy, but at least she didn’t argue.

Thank fuck she had some self-preservation.

“Fine,” she muttered, turning to Mystic. “But don’t expect me to sit around and do nothing if that piece of shit shows up.”

Mystic smirked. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The guys started scattering to gear up, friction still buzzing in the air. I stayed where I was, my eyes locked on Lucy.

She caught my gaze, and for a second, her expression softened.

A reminder of why this mattered so damn much.

I stepped forward and caught her arm.

“Lucy.” My voice had lost its earlier edge, quiet but firm.

She turned to me, searching my face. “What?”

“I mean it.” My grip tightened just slightly. “Be careful. Listen to Mystic. Don’t try anythin’ stupid. I need you in one piece.”

She hesitated, jaw tightening like she was deciding whether or not to fight me on this. Then, finally, she nodded. “I will. But I’m telling you now, I can’t keep doing this. I have a mission of my own, Spinner, and I can’t hang around here forever.”

Her words punched through me at the thought of her leaving.

A cold knot twisted in my gut, but now wasn’t the time for that fight.

“We’ll deal with it later.”

She gave me a look—half frustration, half something softer.

I let go of her arm, watching her step back.

But this wasn’t over.

This was just another fuse waiting to be lit.

And when it blew?

Neither of us would walk away unscathed.