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CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I FELT LIKE the walls were closing in, pressing against my chest. It wasn’t the noise from my childhood. It was her.

Lucy.

She’d been back less than an hour, and she was making it loud and clear we were done.

I sat at the bar, nursing another damn drink that had gone warm in my hand, my eyes locked on her across the room. She was with Fiona, talking like she’d never left. Like she hadn’t walked out of here without a second glance.

But she had left.

And she’d made damn sure I knew she wasn’t back here for me.

“You’re brooding,” Gearhead said, sliding onto the stool next to me.

I shot him a look. “I’m not fuckin’ brooding .”

He smirked, nodding toward my glass. “You’ve been starin’ at that drink for ten minutes without taking a sip. That’s brooding.”

I grunted, tipping the glass back and draining it in one go. “Happy now?”

“Not really,” he said, leaning against the bar. “You can’t fix shit with Lucy from here.”

“She’s made it clear there’s nothin’ to fix,” I muttered, my voice tight.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing toward Lucy. “She’s lyin’.”

I followed his gaze, my jaw clenching as I watched Fiona stand and leave the common room. Lucy acted like she didn’t care who was watching, but I knew better. That look in her eyes? That wasn’t indifference.

It was anger.

“She hates me,” I said quietly, more to myself than Gearhead.

He shrugged. “Can you blame her?”

I turned to glare at him, but he didn’t flinch.

“You screwed up, Spinner,” he said bluntly. “We all saw that little scene with Ashlynn. Women don’t forget that shit. And it doesn’t help that Ashlynn is still here, watchin’ you like she owns you.”

I ground my teeth, my eyes flicking to Ashlynn. Fuck, Gearhead was right—she was watching me, her expression smug, like she was just waiting for the right moment to slither back in.

“I know,” I snapped, dragging my eyes away. “I fucked up, and Lucy won’t hear me out.”

Gearhead nodded, his expression softening slightly. “She know you didn’t fuck Ashlynn?”

My gaze drifted back to Lucy. She was sitting in the corner now, her shoulders stiff, her fingers tight around her glass.

“It won’t matter,” I admitted, the words bitter in my mouth. “It wasn’t just Ashlynn. It was the fact that I didn’t trust her. And I don’t know if I can fix that.”

Gearhead clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Then you’d better figure it out. I don’t take Lucy for the type to hang around and wait.”

She wasn’t.

And I knew it was only a matter of time before she disappeared again.

But this time, I wasn’t going to let her slip through my fingers.

Thanks to Oliver, I knew what her mission was. I knew where to start looking.

She wouldn’t turn into a ghost on me again.

I watched as Lucy stood and left the room. I followed at a distance, expecting her to head outside, but instead, she went up the stairs, her shoulders slumped like she was bone tired, disappearing into the room Brenda had made up for her.

I’d give her space.

Tonight.

But come tomorrow, we were going to talk.

Whether she admitted it or not, she needed someone looking out for her.

Someone who understood her. Someone who loved her, flaws and all.

That was me.

And I wasn’t letting her go again.

THE DOOR SHUT behind me with a heavy thud as I headed for my seat.

This wasn’t just another sit-down.

This was war prep.

Devil sat at the head of the table, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of focus that meant shit was about to get serious. The usual faces were here—me, Chain, Mystic, Thunder, and Gearhead—but tonight, the air was thick, something heavier pressing down on all of us.

This was bigger.

Fang. Drago. The cartel.

Devil leaned forward, rubbing a hand over his jaw before speaking. “Talked to Patch,” he said, his voice even, but carrying that undercurrent of authority that made men listen. “He’s sending some of our own from other chapters—Wrath, Soldier, Snipe, Kickstand, and Jaycee. The first three will be doing recon since their faces aren’t known down here. The other two will be working with Gatsby. Patch is putting together a plan in case this turns into a war.”

A few nods, a couple of muttered approvals. Those men were solid.

Wrath had a reputation as a ladies' man—he’d have no problem getting women to talk, and people always underestimated a pretty face. Soldier had been in the club longer than most, a hard bastard with a military background that made him damn near unshakable. Snipe was a ghost, a sniper who saw things most people missed. Kickstand and his ol’ lady Jaycee? Hacking geniuses—the ace up the sleeve, our wildcards.

“They’ll be rolling in by the end of the week,” Devil continued. “Patch is also working his own angles, pulling intel from his brother, Samuel Flavio.”

Chain leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “That the same Samuel I’m thinkin’ of?”

Devil’s lips twitched. “Yeah. The mafia king of the north.”

A murmur passed around the room.

Samuel wasn’t just connected—he was the connection. If anyone could dig up dirt on who and what the cartel was bringing in through the docks, it was him.

Mystic exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dragon Fire is playin’ with the big boys and forgettin’ they’re still a bunch of kids.”

“We use it to our advantage,” Devil said. “Patch trusts his brother, and if Samuel says he can pull something useful, we let him.”

“Trust is a stretch,” Chain muttered, but he didn’t argue.

I leaned forward, my fingers tapping against the wood. “What about Fang?” I asked. “He’s still gunnin’ for Lucy. That doesn’t change no matter how many brothers we bring in.”

Devil’s gaze flicked to me, unreadable. “Lucy’s still our best link to what the cartel is moving. We don’t let her go off on her own again.”

I tensed, my jaw clenching. “That’s not gonna be easy. She doesn’t exactly take orders.”

Chain smirked. “Yeah, no shit.”

A few of the men chuckled, but the humor didn’t last. We all knew what was at stake.

Devil tapped his fingers against the table, a slow, deliberate beat. “Patch wants us to plan this out before they bring the fight to our doorstep. The cartel is the real issue. They’re fucking dangerous, and the shit they’re capable of isn’t something we want to be mixed up in if we don’t have to.”

A low rumble of agreement passed through the room.

I exhaled, my pulse steadying as a familiar feeling settled in my chest. The weight of a coming fight. The knowledge that blood would be spilled, one way or another.

Wrath, Soldier, Snipe, Kickstand, and Jaycee were on their way.

Samuel was feeding us intel.

The cartel was circling, and Dragon Fire was looking for war.

And Lucy—Lucy was still in the middle of it all.

I flexed my fingers, the itch to move, to do something , creeping under my skin.

There had to be a way to get through to Lucy before she tried bailing again.

Because if this war started, and she was still caught up in it?

There’d be no getting her out. Not alive.