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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

THE PLAYLIST SUCKED tonight. It was cranking out some song older than me. Normally, I could tune it out, even enjoy, but not tonight. Not with Lucy on my mind. Two weeks. Two goddamn weeks, and we still didn’t have a single solid lead.

I sat at the bar, nursing a drink that wasn’t doing a damn thing to take the edge off. My fingers drummed against my glass as my mind spiraled, stuck in a loop of everything we’d tried and everything that had gone wrong.

Then Hunter walked in, and the whole room seemed to shift. He didn’t come in alone. Trailing behind him was a guy who stuck out like a sore thumb. Too clean-cut for this place. Khakis and a button-up, with a nervous energy that screamed he didn’t belong . His eyes darted around the room, landing on every patch, every cut, like he expected to get jumped any second.

“Spinner,” Hunter called, jerking his chin toward the guy. “This one’s here for you.”

I set my drink down and pushed off the bar, crossing the room in a few quick strides. My eyes narrowed as I sized him up. “Who are you?” I asked, my tone biting but laced with curiosity. This guy didn’t look like he belonged anywhere near our world.

He held up his hands like we were about to pounce on him. “Name’s Oliver,” he said, his voice shaky but steady enough. “I’m a friend of Lucy’s.”

Lucy’s friend . My muscles tightened at the word, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “Lucy’s not here,” I said flatly. “What do you want?”

“I know she’s not,” he said quickly, glancing around like he was afraid someone would jump out of the shadows. “She’s... not exactly in a position to call you herself. But she needs help. Fang’s been asking questions—around Charleston, near the docks. I think he’s closing in on her. She’s in trouble.”

My jaw clenched as I stepped closer, my voice dropping to something harder. “How do you know that?”

“Because she and I stay in touch,” he said, straightening up a little despite the sweat forming on his brow. “We work together. I’ve been helping her stay hidden. And I know she’s in too deep this time.”

I glanced over at Devil, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and eyes like a hawk on Oliver. His expression didn’t give much away, but the slight nod he gave me told me he didn’t think Oliver was a threat—at least, not yet.

“She’s been in Charleston this whole time?” I asked, my brows furrowed, disbelief etched across my face.

“Mostly,” Oliver said. “She’s been careful, staying in the shadows. But Fang’s been sniffing around, and I don’t think she can keep out of sight much longer. I’m telling you because I know she won’t come to you for help.”

Something about his words twisted the knife in my chest. Lucy wouldn’t come to me. Didn’t trust me enough to call for backup. And honestly, I couldn’t blame her.

I studied Oliver for a long moment, watching the way his hands trembled while his eyes stayed steady. He looked scared, sure, but he didn’t look like a liar.

“And you trust us?” I asked finally, my gaze fixed, eyes cold and unflinching. “What the hell did she tell you about us?”

“She told me enough,” he said simply. “Enough to know you’ll protect her.”

I raised a brow, the pieces starting to click into place. “You sent the note?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. But the shipment got delayed—mechanical issues.”

His honesty was there plain as day, cutting through the doubts I’d been holding onto. I nodded slowly, the adrenaline starting to build. “Tell me what you know,” I demanded. “Every detail. We’ll take it from here.”

Devil pushed off the wall, his voice reminding me he was in charge. “My office.” He was already moving, not waiting to see if we’d follow.

Oliver hesitated, his shoulders stiffening like he wanted to run out the door. But then he caught my glare and nodded, falling in step behind Devil.

As we walked, I couldn’t shake the fear running through my body. Lucy was out there, too close to danger, too far out of reach. And now this guy—this stranger—was the only lead we had.

DEVIL’S OFFICE WASN’T much to look at—just a worn desk, a few mismatched chairs, and walls lined with club photos, memories of battles won and lost. A stack of paperwork sat beside his laptop, and a framed picture of his late wife sat front and center, big and shiny, like a shrine.

Oliver stood just inside the door, his back stiff, but his hands fidgeted at his sides, a man walking a tightrope with no net beneath him. Devil sat behind the desk, his eyes locked on Oliver like a predator sizing up prey. Mystic leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Chain perched on the edge of the desk, unmoving, his face unreadable but razor-focused.

And me? I couldn’t fucking sit still.

My boots scuffed against the floor as I paced, my nerves shot to hell. Every damn second Oliver dragged his feet was another Lucy spent out there, alone, with Fang and Drago circling like wolves scenting blood.

“Start talking,” Devil said, his voice calm—too calm. The kind of calm that came before bloodshed.

Oliver swallowed hard, licking his lips like he was trying to find the right words. “Lucy’s been laying low in Charleston,” he started, his voice shaking just enough to notice. “She’s been careful—changing places, staying off the radar—but it’s not enough. Fang’s been asking around, throwing cash at anyone who might know where she is.”

“Why the hell hasn’t she left the area?” I snapped, frustration snapping through my control. This wasn’t like Lucy. She was smart. Calculated. Staying this close to Dragon Fire was a suicide move.

Oliver shifted, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “She’s tracking their shipments at the docks. Trying to get proof they’re moving people.”

My stomach turned. Human trafficking . I should’ve fucking known.

“She figured they’d assume she’d run farther—North Carolina, maybe the mountains. At first, it worked. But...”

“But Fang’s not stupid,” Mystic cut in, his voice low, his arms tightening across his chest.

Oliver nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah. He’s been sniffing around the docks, asking about a woman matching her description. Word is, he’s paying people to keep an eye out for her. But here’s the real problem...”

He hesitated, flicking a glance around the room before continuing.

“They think she’s just running. They don’t know she’s been watching them. That she’s been inside their clubhouse, digging into their operations, gathering proof to burn them to the ground.” He exhaled sharply. “If they find out? It won’t be a quick death.”

“They’ll carve her up,” Chain finished grimly. No hesitation. No doubt.

Oliver nodded, jaw clenched. “Right now, Drago thinks she helped Zeynep escape and Fang’s still obsessed with her. But if he figures out she’s been keeping tabs on his business?”

He didn’t need to finish.

The air shifted, heavy and fucking suffocating.

“Maybe she just missed a check-in,” Chain offered, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“No,” Oliver said immediately, his voice strong despite the tension rolling off him. “If Lucy says she’ll check in, she will. Something’s wrong.”

I stopped pacing. “How close is Fang?”

Oliver swallowed hard. “Too close.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he forced the words out. “Last time I heard from her, she was watching Dragon Fire at the docks. But I don’t think she could leave even if she tried. Fang’s men are watching the roads, the bus stations... She’s trapped.”

“Are these the same docks you lured us to before?” Devil asked, his eyes narrowing, a cold edge sharpening his expression.

Oliver hesitated. For a split second, he looked like he might lie. But then, with a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand down his face.

“She’s gonna skin me alive for this. Might as well dig my own grave now.”

He stared at his shoes, like the floor might offer him salvation, then looked up. “She’s been holed up at some rundown motel near the docks. Room 112. But she made it real clear—no one was supposed to know.”

My pulse spiked. The motel. The fucking docks. She was too close.

Oliver wasn’t done.

“I tried talking sense into her. Told her to call you, to get backup.” He hesitated, gaze dropping again, like saying it out loud made it worse.

I already knew I wouldn’t like what came next.

“She said she doesn’t want your help,” Oliver admitted, meeting my gaze with something between pity and fear. “She said... when you lose Lucy’s trust, you’re dead to her.”

The words cut deep.

I knew she was pissed. Hell, she’d warned me. But hearing confirmation? It drove the knife in and twisted.

My fists clenched at my sides. The room suddenly felt too fucking small.

“Well, too fuckin’ bad,” I snarled. “She doesn’t get to make that call.”

“Spinner,” Devil warned.

I turned to him, barely keeping my temper from snapping. “What? We’re just supposed to sit here while Fang closes in? She’s trapped, Devil.”

“And if this is a setup?” Chain asked, his fingers tapping on the desk. “What if Fang’s baitin’ us, waitin’ for us to walk into his trap?”

I stopped pacing, teeth grinding together. He wasn’t wrong. None of them were. But that didn’t mean I could sit on my hands.

Devil stood, sweeping his gaze over the room before landing on Oliver.

“You’re coming with us,” he said, his voice final, unshakable. “You’re taking us to that motel, and you’re gonna tell us everything you know about Dragon Fire’s movements. Every detail.”

Oliver blinked, like he wanted to argue. One look from Devil shut that shit down.

“Mystic, Chain,” Devil continued, “start planning the routes. I want every exit covered. Spinner...” He turned to me, eyes hard. “I get that this is personal. But I need you focused. This isn’t just about Dragon Fire anymore. With the cartel involved, we need to go in, get her out, and avoid confrontation if we can.”

I swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions threatening to rip me apart. “I’m good.”

Devil didn’t look convinced, but he let it slide. “We roll out in thirty. Be ready.”

The others started moving, but I stood frozen, anger boiling beneath my skin.

Lucy didn’t want me coming for her.

Didn’t want my help.

Too fuckin’ bad.