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CHAPTER EIGHT

THIS PLACE SMELLED like dirty fucking feet, the strong kind of smell that settled into your bones if you spent too long around it. I wasn’t fucking used to it, Zeynep always kept my shit clean, it would be fucking nice if someone cleaned this shithole. But right now, that was the least of my problems.

I couldn’t sit still, my boots pounding on the worn-out rug as I paced back and forth, my thoughts swirling like a fucking hurricane.

My Zeynep with those bastards .

Looking at other men.

Talking to other men.

What if they were fucking touching her?

The thought alone was enough to make my blood run fucking hot, but the rage didn’t stop there. No, it was deeper than that. It was The Devil’s House MC as a whole and they took what was mine and thought they could walk away. Fuck that, they would feel the hand of death. They didn’t know who the hell they were dealing with.

I wasn’t my fucking grandaddy!

Hell at thirty years old I was already building a club that would outshine anything he ever did.

Sure, they hit us hard once, but only because of that fucking James. I should have known, but the chance to get one of their bitches was too much of an opportunity to pass.

“They fucked up!” I snarled, slamming my fist on the table. The empty bottle of Jack sitting there, rattled but stayed upright. “Stealing from me. Taking what belongs to me.”

Fang leaned back in his chair, his face calm as always, though his green eyes gleamed with that predatory glint I’d come to rely on. “They didn’t steal her,” he said, his voice like gravel. “Zeynep ran away. That’s not the same thing.”

I stopped dead in my tracks, running my hands through my dirty blond hair, and taking a deep breath. Then I turned to face him, pissed he reminded me of that fact. “Does that make a difference? She’s mine , Fang. And now they have her. Do you have any idea how crazy that makes me?”

He took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around him like a lazy fog. “You know this obsession you have with Zeynep isn’t doin’ you any favors,” he said bluntly. “But it also gives us the perfect excuse to hit ‘em hard.”

I wanted to kill him just for saying that about Zeynep. But he wasn’t wrong, and that made me hate it even more because I was addicted to her, she was blood in my veins, and I felt like I would die without her. My jaw clenched as I sat down across from him, leaning forward with my fists braced on the table.

“I don’t need an excuse,” I growled. “I’ve been planning to take their territory for months. This just made it even more... personal.”

Fang leaned forward, matching my posture. “Personal don’t win wars, Drago. Strategy does. You want her back? Fine. But we need to be smart and not rush. Take their territory. Their supply lines. And break apart their ranks by sowing distrust.”

I gritted my teeth, my anger was simmering hot and ready to combust. Fang was good at this—too good sometimes—but it didn’t make swallowing his advice any easier. “They’ve got her locked up in that clubhouse,” I muttered, needing him to feel my impatience and I knew just how to do it. “And did you know Lucy’s there, too?”

At that, Fang’s calm exterior fractured, his lip curled into a snarl, eyes darkening with something raw and dangerous. “Lucy.”

I smirked, leaning back in my chair, glad I kept that piece of information to myself until now. My plan is to kill the bitch. I know she was the one who helped Zeynep get out. Fang doesn’t need to know what I have planned until it’s done. “What? Thought I wouldn’t notice you still have a thing for her?”

“She’s mine,” he snapped, his hands curling into fists. “And she’s with them, you’re sure?”

“Yep, my sources saw her enter their compound and not come out,” I said, smiling at the anger that crossed his rugged face. He had been looking hard for her since she disappeared, putting in extra time. He thought I didn’t know, but of course I knew, if it was only Zeynep, he’d leave it to someone else.

His jealousy was bleeding from him, and for once, I didn’t mind it. Fang was always too controlled, too careful. Seeing him riled up reminded me why I kept him around. “That traitorous bitch,” he snarled, gritting his teeth. “Wait until I get her back.”

“Then we both have something to gain, don’t we?” I said, the grin spreading wider across my face. “Zeynep, Lucy... their territory. It’s all there for the taking.”

Fang exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as his expression turned calculating. “We still can’t rush it. They’re watchin’ us, and if we move too soon, Devil will come down on us hard and we got some delicate shipments coming our way.”

“I don’t fucking care,” I hissed, slamming my fist against the table again. “I want my ol’ lady back. Taking Zeynep? That’s a line they shouldn’t have stepped over.”

“And Lucy?” Fang’s voice dropped to a whisper, and his eyes darkened.

I leaned in closer, my tone low and laced with steel. “Lucy’s a wild card, and she knows too much shit. Maybe we use her for more than your fuck piece. Maybe we break her. Either way, she’ll crack eventually. They always do.”

Fang nodded, his lips curling into a dangerous smile. “I want to destroy those motherfuckers.”

I slammed my hand on the table, this time in triumph. “Good. Let’s start shaking their foundation. Take out their runners. Hit their shipments. Make them bleed.”

Fang leaned back, his smirk never fading. “And when they’re weak, we take what’s ours.”

The laughter crawled up from deep inside me, dark and hollow. “Exactly. Zeynep and Lucy are just the beginning. By the time we’re done, The Devil’s House MC won’t even know what hit them.”

The fire in my chest burned brighter as the plan solidified in my mind. They thought they could take what was mine. They thought they could take my ol’ lady from me.

I’ll die first.

I LEANED BACK in the cracked vinyl booth, the cigarette smoldering between my fingers, my head still spinning from what Drago just told me. She’s with The Devil’s House MC.

That bitch Lucy.

The name burned through my chest like a brand, just like she always did. The thought of her being with those bastards pissed me off so fucking bad. She wasn’t theirs. She was mine—always had been since that first day, always would be.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, and I stubbed it out on the edge of the table, the ash scattering like my patience. The waitress behind the counter was staring, her eyes darting between me and the coffee pot she was holding like she didn’t know whether to refill my cup or run out the back door. Smart girl. She should run.

But my focus wasn’t on her. It was on Lucy.

I could still see her in my mind’s eye, the way she looked the last time I had her in my sights. That fiery look she got when she was pissed at me, all stubborn and wild. I’d loved it. Loved her . That was the fucking problem. She thought she could run from me. Thought she could hide. But Lucy didn’t understand how this worked. I’d always find her. Always.

I slammed my fist on the table, hard enough to rattle the chipped coffee cup. The waitress flinched, but I didn’t care. All I could see was Lucy, wrapped up in their world, thinking they could protect her. Thinking they could keep her from me.

She was wrong.

The Devil’s House didn’t scare me. They didn’t know me yet, but they would. I’d burn that whole damn place to the ground if it meant getting her back. I’d do my own search separate from Drago. He thought I didn’t know he planned to kill Lucy. But I wasn’t one of his dumb fucking boot lickers.

My hand drifted to my phone, and I scrolled until I found the name I needed. One call. That’s all it’d take to get the ball rolling. A few favors called in, a little grease in the right hands, and I’d know exactly what was happening inside that clubhouse.

The phone rang twice before a gravelly voice answered. “Yeah?”

“It’s Fang,” I said, my voice steady, sharp. “I need eyes inside The Devil’s House MC.”

A pause. Then a low chuckle. “You got it. It won’t be cheap though.”

I gritted my teeth. “Just fucking do it.”

The line went dead as I hung up and slid the phone into my pocket. My blood was pounding now, the adrenaline kicking in as I stood and tossed a crumpled bill onto the table. My bike was waiting for me just outside, her paint seemed to sparkle like she knew what was coming. I ran a hand over my jaw, the thought of Lucy fueling every step I took.

I’d have her back, I could feel it in my gut. And when I did, she’d finally understand. She belonged to me, no matter what.

No one could protect her from me.

Not The Devil’s House. Not anyone.