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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

I CROUCHED LOW behind a stack of shipping containers, my eyes fixed on the Dragon Fire assholes gathered near a black van. The murmur of their voices mixed with the distant lapping of water against the pier, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

I adjusted my position, the cold steel of my knife pressing against my hip. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. I pulled out my phone, snapping a quick picture of the scene. Fang wasn’t there—yet—but I recognized a few of the men from the garage.

They were loading crates into the back of the van, their movements hurried, like they knew someone was watching.

I was that someone.

I shifted again, my shoes whispering against the rough cement as I tried to stay hidden, when the hair on the back of my neck stood up. A faint noise, barely audible, caught my attention.

Footsteps.

Behind me.

I turned slowly, my heart sinking when I saw him. Fang.

He was standing just a few feet away, his grin wicked and dangerous, his eyes gleaming in the weak light of the dock lamps.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice velvety and mocking. “Look who we have here—curiosity really is a dangerous habit, isn’t it, Lucy?”

My breath caught in my throat, and I took a step back, my mind racing. I couldn’t fight him—not here, and past experience told me not ever.

Run.

I bolted, my feet pounding against the hard cement of the shipyard as Fang’s laughter followed me. “Get her!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the night.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.

My lungs burned as I sprinted past rows of shipping containers, their towering shapes creating a maze of shadows. The sound of boots on cement and gravel grew louder behind me, the Fire Dragons closing in.

Think, Lucy. Think.

I ducked around a corner, pulling my knife from its sheath. My hands were shaking, but I held it firm, ready to swing if anyone came too close.

“Split up!” I heard Fang yell. “She’s not getting away this time!”

A rush of adrenaline flooded my system as my heart hammered against my ribs. I darted toward the end of the pier, the water glinting under the moonlight. A dead end.

“Shit,” I hissed, spinning on my heel and doubling back.

A shadow loomed in front of me, one of Fang’s men blocking my path. He lunged, but I sidestepped, slashing out with the knife. He yelped as the blade grazed his arm, and I shoved him aside, sprinting past before he could recover.

My legs screamed in protest, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

The sound of Fang’s voice grew closer, his taunts cutting through the air. . “Run, Lucy. Make it interesting. But you know I’ll catch up.”

I spotted a narrow gap between two containers and dove into it, pressing my back against the cold metal. My breath was ragged, my chest heaving as I tried to quiet the pounding of my heart.

The sound of footsteps slowed, and I held my breath, the shadows shifting as Fang and another man walked past the opening.

“She’s close,” Fang said, his tone menacing. “Spread out.”

I waited until their footsteps faded before slipping out of the gap, moving silently along the edge of the dock. My escape route was clear now—an old access ladder leading down to the water.

The ladder groaned under my weight as I climbed down, the cold sea breeze biting at my skin. I dropped onto the lower pier, crouching low as I made my way toward the darkened shore.

Behind me, Fang’s voice rose in frustration. “Find her! She couldn’t have gotten far!”

I kept moving, my muscles trembling from the effort, until I was far enough from the docks to risk a glance back. The Dragon Fire men were scattered, their flashlights darting through the shadows, but they hadn’t spotted me.

Not yet.

I slipped into the cover of some containers, my chest heaving as I collapsed against the steel wall. My hands were still shaking, my knife clutched tightly in my grip.

For a moment, I let myself breathe, the adrenaline fading just enough for the fear to settle in.

I’d gotten away.

But just barely.

And I knew one thing for certain.

Fang wasn’t giving up, especially not now that he knew I was spying on their club. I was truly fucked.

I LOST HER .

I leaned my head back against the steel container, jaw clenched so damn tight it hurt. Anger twisted in my gut, hot and ugly. How the hell did I let this happen? My thoughts circled back to the start, retracing every step, every word, looking for the crack I missed.

I had been on the dock, waiting on the shipment. The faint hum of the cargo ship in the distance only added to the weight of what was about to go down. My boots moved quietly against the wood as my eyes scanned the area, my senses sharp.

Lucy was here—I could feel it.

Smell her.

Then I saw it: a faint glint of something shiny reflecting off one of the containers. My grin spread slowly, predatory and full of teeth.

Lucy was fucking spying.

Oh, you naughty bitch.

“Fan out,” I ordered quietly, my voice low enough that only the men nearest me would hear. “Someone’s snakin’ the place. I want eyes on every corner of this damn maze.”

My men moved like shadows, slipping between the containers, their presence barely more than whispers. I stayed back, keeping my focus sharp, scanning every flicker of movement, every shift in the darkness.

And then I saw her.

She was crouched behind a container, her silhouette backlit by the faint glow of the dock lights. Even in the dimness, I knew it was her—there was no mistaking that shape, that stillness. I knew every curve, every angle.

I knew Lucy.

The grin on my lips turned cruel. “There you are,” I murmured under my breath.

I raised a hand, signaling my men to hold back. This one was mine.

I circled around, keeping to the shadows so she wouldn’t see me coming, my boots silent on the ground.

“Well, well,” I growled, stepping into view. “Look who we have here, curiosity really is a dangerous habit, isn’t it, Lucy?”

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine. Even now, caught red-handed, there was defiance in her stare. She didn’t freeze or stumble—she moved, darting out from behind the container with a speed that caught me off guard.

“Shit!” I hissed, breaking into a run.

“Go!” I barked at my men, motioning toward the other side of the container. “Cut her off!”

The chase was on.

I sprinted after her, the sound of my boots pounding against the ground echoing through the docks. She weaved through the rows of containers like she’d mapped the place out beforehand, her movements quick and precise.

But I was faster. Stronger. Smarter.

“Give it up, Lucy!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the night. “You’re only making this harder on yourself!”

She didn’t look back, didn’t respond. She just ran, her hair whipping behind her as she turned a sharp corner. The adrenaline coursed through my veins, every step pushing me closer.

This is why she gets my blood hot and my cock pulsing like no one else. No one could play this game like her. No one made it this fun.

I rounded the corner just in time to see her slipping through a narrow gap between two containers. Cursing, I skidded to a stop, forcing my shoulders through the tight space to follow her.

The gap opened up into another row, and I spotted her again. Her pace faltered for just a second—she glanced over her shoulder.

Big mistake.

I surged forward, closing the distance between us. Her breathing was shallow and ragged now, every step a little slower than the last. She was tiring.

One of my men rounded the corner ahead of her, cutting her off. For a split second, I thought we had her.

But Lucy wasn’t just fast, she was smart. Her knife flashed in the dim light, slashing across his arm before she darted past him. He stumbled, cursing as blood dripped onto the ground.

“Fucking hell!” I roared, pushing harder to catch up.

She veered sharply to the left, disappearing behind another stack of crates. I turned too late, my momentum slamming me into the edge of the stack. Pain shot through my arm as the metal bit into my skin, but I didn’t stop.

I pushed off the crates, scanning the maze of containers. My chest heaved, my fists clenched, and my mind raced.

She was gone.

“Spread out!” I barked, my voice sharp and furious. “I want every inch of this place covered! She couldn’t have gotten far!”

My men scattered, their footsteps fading into the distance, but I already knew it was useless. She’d slipped away, again.

For a moment, I stood there in the silence, my chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. She was good—better than I’d given her credit for. But no one could outrun me forever.

“Bask in your little victory while you can, Lucy,” I muttered, my voice a venomous whisper. “Because next time? There won’t be a next time.”

I gave myself a shake, coming back to the present. I turned sharply, striding back toward the docks where the cargo ship was pulling in. There was still business to handle tonight, and I wouldn’t let her distract me from that.

But the thought clawed at the edges of my mind. Lucy wasn’t just running. She was sniffing around like a goddamn narc.

And when I had her again, I’d decide whether to tell Drago, or keep this little secret to myself.

Either way, she’d pay for tonight.

THE DOCKS WERE too goddamn quiet. Not the kind of quiet that meant peace, but the kind that meant something was about to go sideways. The only sound was the slow, rhythmic slap of water against the pilings, a hollow echo swallowed by the thick, salty air. It sat heavy in my lungs, mixing with the gnawing dread curdling in my gut.

Oliver’s intel had been solid, Lucy was here. I’d seen her, a blur of movement slipping between the shipping containers, her silhouette visible even in the flickering, busted-ass dock lights. She was running, fast, desperate.

I had to get to her before Fang did.

That bastard was here too, regrouping after losing her trail. I could hear him, his men muttering low, pissed-off voices bouncing between the metal crates. They were circling like vultures, waiting for the cargo ship to dock, waiting to trap her like a cornered animal.

Not happening.

I kept to the shadows, my pulse a hammer against my ribs. Every step was deliberate, every breath controlled, but my mind was a wildfire of worst-case scenarios. If Fang got his hands on her first, if I was even a second too slow…

No.

My brothers were above, tucked into the roof of the warehouse, rifles ready, eyes locked on me, waiting for my signal. But all I cared about was her.

Lucy was out there, alone. And if I didn’t reach her first, I wouldn’t be pulling her into my arms—I’d be dragging her out of a grave.

I moved quickly, keeping to the shadows, my heart pounding harder with every step. Then I saw her.

She was crouched behind a stack of crates, her shoulders tense, every muscle coiled like she was ready to fight or run. Relief flooded through me, but it didn’t last long.

She looked like hell. Her hair was tangled, her clothes wrinkled and damp from the ocean air. But it was the look in her eyes that hit me the hardest—a wild, haunted look as she scanned the area, knife clutched tightly in her hand. She was running on fumes and raw adrenaline.

“Lucy,” I called softly, stepping out from the shadows.

Her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto mine. For a second, she froze, the fear on her face shifting into something colder—anger.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, standing and gripping the knife like she was ready to use it.

“Lookin’ for you,” I said, my voice filled with concern as I stepped closer. “Time to stop runnin'. You’re comin’ back to the clubhouse.”

She huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking her head like I was some kind of fool. “Not a damn chance, Spinner. I’m not your problem anymore.”

“Yeah?” I took another step, jaw tight. “Well, that’s not your call.”

Her grip on the knife tightened, knuckles white. “Back off. I don’t need you, don’t need your club, and sure as hell don’t need you acting like you got a say in my life.”

I ran a hand through my hair, dragging in a deep breath to keep from snapping. “You’re not fine, Lucy. You’re burnin’ yourself out, makin’ reckless moves, and walkin’ right into Fang’s trap.”

Her eyes flashed with fire, shoulders squaring up like she was ready to take me on. “I’ve been handling myself for years without you, Spinner. I don’t need your approval, your guilt-ridden conscience, or your damn white-knight act.”

She was pissing me off, but I wasn’t about to let her push me away. “This isn’t just about you, Lucy,” I said, my voice dropping lower, rougher. “Zeynep’s gettin’ worse. She needs you.”

That stopped her cold. The fire in her eyes flickered, anger giving way to concern. “Worse how?”

I hesitated. Just a second. Just long enough for the guilt to twist in my gut. The lie wasn’t pretty, but it was the only card I had left to play. “She’s not eatin’. She’s pushin’ herself too hard, tryin’ to talk when she’s not ready. Mystic’s worried sick. She keeps askin’ for you.”

Her face crumpled, the ice in her expression melting away like she’d been sucker-punched. “She’s asking for me?”

"Yeah," I said, stepping in closer, pressing my advantage. “You walkin’ out like that messed her up, Lucy. She needs you.”

Her shoulders sagged, eyes darting away like she couldn’t face me. “Damn it,” she muttered, voice cracking just enough to let me know I’d hit the nerve I was aiming for.

I softened my tone, but not too much. “Come back with me. Just for a little while. For her.”

She let out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over her face like she was trying to rub me out of existence along with whatever war was raging inside her. “Fine,” she bit out. “But only for Zeynep. Not for you. Never for you.”

Her words cut deep, but I didn’t let it show. Didn’t even flinch. “Fair enough.”

She didn’t speak as we moved through the shadows, sticking to the dark like ghosts, staying out of sight. Every step felt like walking a tightrope, the tension between us thick and crackling, ready to snap.

At the bike, she stopped and turned, eyes locked onto mine, sharp as a blade. “Let’s get one thing straight, Spinner,” she said, voice hard, edged with warning. “Whatever we had before—whatever you think this is—it’s over. You and me? Done. Don’t try to fix it. Don’t try to fix me. Stay the hell out of my way.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Her words landed like a fist to the gut, but I stood my ground, watching as she swung onto the bike without a second look.

I threw my leg over and fired up the engine, the roar cutting through the heavy silence between us. Whatever the hell we were before? She was wrong. We weren’t done.

But she was coming back to the clubhouse. And for now, that was the only thing that mattered.