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CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

THE WAREHOUSE STOOD behind me, its rusted walls swallowing the moonlight, a dark shape against the docks. The place reeked of salt, fuel, and decay.

I barely felt the wind, barely heard the voices of my brothers behind me. My heartbeat was too loud, pounding against my ribs like a goddamn sledgehammer on steel.

Lucy was inside.

And so was Fang.

Thunder crept up beside me, his voice low. “They’ve got lookouts posted, but they’re not expectin’ us.”

I barely nodded. My fingers twitched around the grip of my gun.

Devil stood ahead, his eyes scanning the scene like a predator waiting for the right second to strike. Controlled. Cold. Calculated.

I wasn’t.

I was ready to tear this place apart with my bare fucking hands, the need to move— to act —burning through every nerve like gasoline on a fire.

“Remember the plan,” Devil murmured, his voice hard, slicing through my fury. “Quiet first, then we go in hard.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “And Spinner—”

His tone shifted, hardening into steel. “You go for Lucy. Not Fang. She’ll need you, not us.”

My jaw clenched, pressure building until it felt like my teeth might shatter. I didn’t answer— couldn’t. My head was a storm of images. Lucy—hurt, terrified, alone. The thought carved into me, raw and unbearable.

Fingers curled into fists, I shook from the inside out, every muscle drawn tight enough to snap.

Devil didn’t wait for words. He grabbed the front of my vest, yanking me close until his face was inches from mine, red eyes burning through me. “You listening to me?”

I wrenched free, breath heaving like I’d run through hell and back. “Yeah.”

He held my gaze, searching, peeling back every barely contained explosion under my skin. Then, after a beat, he nodded once. “Good. Let’s move.”

I exhaled slow, shoving the rage down deep, burying it just enough to use.

Lucy first. Fang second.

I was getting her out.

And after that?

Hell was coming.

I was going to make that motherfucker beg for death.

We moved in silent as ghosts.

Thunder and Mystic crept toward the back entrance, blades drawn. No gunfire yet. Keep it quiet. Make it hurt.

I saw one of Fang’s guys leaning against the loading dock, smoking, clueless as hell.

Big mistake.

Mystic came up fast, blade flashing—a single slice across the throat.

No scream. Just gurgling.

The body dropped.

I stepped over him without a second glance. Didn’t fucking care.

Two more outside. Thunder handled one. I took the other.

My knife sank deep into the guy’s ribs before he even knew I was there. I twisted the blade, feeling the moment he stopped breathing.

No mercy.

Not tonight.

The warehouse doors creaked open.

Thunder slid in first, his gun low, scanning the shadows. Mystic followed.

Then me.

And the second I stepped inside, I felt it.

Lucy.

She was here.

And so was he.

The place was dark, only a few flickering bulbs overhead. It smelled wrong.

And then—

A voice.

Fang.

Low. Taunting. Too fucking close.

I stopped breathing.

Then I saw her.

Tied to a chair. Wrists red, face bruised, but still awake and fighting.

Still mine.

But she wasn’t alone.

Fang stood in front of her, grinning.

My fucking mom was crumpled on the floor, and it should have surprised me seeing her, but it didn’t. Let her fucking suffer. Whatever had happened I knew she was at fault.

And all I could see was Fang.

His fingers curled under Lucy’s chin, tilting her head up as he hovered over her.

I lifted my gun.

And for the first time in my life—

I didn’t wait for permission.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t hesitate.

The second I saw Fang’s hands on Lucy, my vision went black with rage.

My gun was already up, finger tightening on the trigger—

Then the room exploded.

Gunfire ripped through the air, bullets slamming into the walls, ricocheting off metal beams. A deafening roar of chaos swallowed the warehouse, men shouting, boots pounding.

I hit the ground hard, rolling behind a stack of crates, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“FUCK!” Thunder’s voice snapped through the commotion. “They were waitin’ for us!”

A trap.

Fang had been waiting.

I shoved the rage down, forcing my brain to work. I had seconds before I lost control completely.

I peeked around the crates, my pulse slammed like a battle cry in my veins.

Lucy was still tied to the chair, frozen. Her eyes were locked on mine—wide, shocked.

She was so exhausted it almost seemed like she questioned if I were real.

Fang stood behind her, gun in hand, his grin shark-like, taunting. Like he was enjoying the show.

“Well, well, well,” he called over the gunfire. “Look what the devil dragged in.”

I bared my teeth, stepping out from cover, gun locked on his head. “You’re dead, motherfucker.”

Fang just laughed.

A sick, slow chuckle, like he was having the time of his fucking life.

“You really think you can take me out that easy?” he smirked, pressing his gun to Lucy’s temple.

I stopped moving.

Everything in me went still.

His smirk widened. “That’s what I thought.”

“You touch her again, and I will fuckin’ end you, Fang.” My voice was low, dangerous. No room for doubt.

He tilted his head. “Oh, Spinner. Dumb fuckin’, Spinner. You still don’t get it, do you?”

I gritted my teeth, every muscle in my body shaking. “You really gonna keep talkin’ like a dumb fucker?”

His eyes lit up, amused. “Lucy’s pussy has made us both crazy, yeah?”

Something deep, primal, and uncontrollable snapped inside me and Lucy took that second to lower her head.

I pulled the trigger.

He jerked, the bullet whipping past his face, slicing open his cheek. He stumbled back, cursing, the gun pulling away from Lucy’s head.

That was my opening.

I rushed him.

Fang tried to recover, swinging his gun back toward me, but he was too slow.

I was already on him.

I slammed into him full force, driving him back into the wall. The impact seemed to shake the whole goddamn warehouse.

The gun flew from his grip.

I barely noticed.

All I saw was red.

All I felt was rage.

I threw the first punch—a brutal, bone-cracking right hook to his jaw. His head snapped back, blood flying.

I followed it up with another. And another.

I didn’t stop. Didn’t let him breathe.

His face was already a fucking mess by the time he managed to swing back. His fist crashed into my ribs, but I barely felt it.

Didn’t fucking care.

I grabbed him by the throat, slamming his head into the wall.

Hard.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN HURT HER?” I snarled, my grip tightening.

Fang choked, clawing at my arm. “G-Gonna… k-kill you…”

I laughed. Low. Mean. Deadly.

“No, motherfucker.” I leaned in, whispering against his bloodied face. “I’m gonna kill you.”

I threw him to the ground, hard. His head smacked against the concrete, dazed, sluggish.

I pulled my gun, aimed it between his eyes.

His bloody mouth twitched into a smirk. “Do it, then.”

I pressed the barrel harder against his skull. My finger tightened.

But then—Lucy. She was watching me.

If I did this—if I pulled this trigger—she’d have that image of me in her head. For some reason I didn’t want that, besides, torturing him in the round barn would be more satisfying.

I let out a slow, ragged breath.

Then I lowered the gun.

Fang let out a weak chuckle. “Guess you ain’t as hard as you think, Sp—”

I kicked him in the face.

Hard enough to knock him the fuck out.

The warehouse went silent.

I turned toward Lucy, ripping my knife from my belt.

Her eyes stayed locked on mine as I crouched down, blade steady in my hand, slicing through the zip ties binding her wrists. The moment they snapped, her body gave out, collapsing forward, but I was already there, arms wrapping around her before she could hit the floor.

I held her close, tighter than I should have, but I couldn’t bring myself to loosen my grip. “Lucy,” I whispered, voice rough with emotion, throat burning.

Her fingers clutched at my cut, digging in with a desperation that twisted something deep inside me. She clung like letting go wasn’t an option—as if I was her lifeline.

“You came,” she breathed, voice cracked and raw, each word barely making it past her lips.

I pulled back just enough to see her face, her features smeared with grime, eyes glassy yet burning with that stubborn fire I knew too well. “You really doubted me?”

Her lip quivered for a heartbeat, then she smacked me in the chest, weak but fierce. “You took too fucking long!”

A laugh tore out of me—an actual laugh—gritty and raw, cutting through the weight crushing my chest. I didn’t waste another second before pulling her back into me, arms banding around her like I could shield her from the world.

Because I had her.

She was alive.

And I’d be damned if I ever let her out of my sight again.

FANG WAS OUT cold.

I stood over his bloodied, broken body, my knuckles still aching from the beating I’d given him. His face was a fucking mess—swollen, cut, barely recognizable. His arms were tied behind his back, zip ties cutting into his wrists.

“Let’s move,” Devil ordered, nodding to the prospect, Jacob, who was tasked with hauling Fang’s sorry ass out of here.

Jacob bent down, grabbing Fang’s arm. I turned to check on Lucy, but my skin was still crawling.

Something wasn’t right.

Fang was too still.

My stomach twisted.

Then—it happened.

A sick crack.

A choked grunt.

Fang moved.

Too fucking fast.

Before anyone could react, he twisted out of the zip ties like a goddamn snake, spinning behind Ricky and locking an arm around his throat.

“FUCK!” Ricky’s voice was barely a rasp before Fang put a knife in his gut.

Ricky collapsed.

Fang didn’t stop.

He shot up like he hadn’t just gotten his ass beat, legs already moving, feet kicking off the crates as he barreled toward the side door.

I lunged for him.

I was too fucking slow.

Gunshots rang out as Thunder and Mystic fired, but Fang was already dodging, weaving through the shadows, disappearing into the night like a fucking ghost.

I skidded to a halt at the open door, my breath coming in ragged snarls.

Gone.

That motherfucker was gone.

“SON OF A BITCH!” I roared, slamming my fist into the metal door so hard it rattled on its hinges.

The rage inside me burned white-hot, blinding.

Thunder cursed, running up to me, gun raised, scanning the darkness. “Shit, he’s fast. We lost him.”

Devil exhaled, rubbing his jaw. His face was tight, unreadable. “Should’ve killed him when we had the chance.”

No one fucking argued.

I turned, breathing hard, my whole body shaking. Lucy was still by the chair, her face pale, staring at the door like she could still feel him there.

“He’s coming back,” she whispered.

My chest tightened.

She wasn’t wrong.

Fang was still out there.

And he and Dragon Fire weren’t done.