Chapter Twenty-Three #2
My pulse kicked hard against my ribs as instinct finally caught up, my body starting to turn, and I walked straight into him.
The impact knocked the breath out of me, my body jerking back as my heart slammed hard against my ribs, my head snapping up to find Kane standing there, too close, too solid, too real, the smell of leather and oil hitting me all at once like he hadn’t just come in, like he’d been here long enough for it to settle into the space.
Waiting.
“No,” I breathed before I could stop it, the word slipping out on instinct.
His hand came up fast, catching my arm before I could pull away again, his grip tight and unyielding as his voice stayed low, almost conversational, like we were having any kind of normal interaction. “Yeah… we ain’t doin’ this.”
Panic hit fast and hard, my pulse spiking as I tried to twist free, but it didn’t move him, didn’t even shift his stance, and my eyes flicked past him automatically, searching for doors, windows, anything that might give me space, even though I already knew there wasn’t any.
“You need to leave,” I said, the words tight and urgent, even as they felt useless the second they left my mouth.
His mouth tipped slightly, not a smile, not even close. “Funny… that’s exactly what you were about to do.”
My stomach dropped hard, the realization hitting all at once.
He knew.
Not guessed.
Knew.
“Please,” I said, my voice breaking just enough to betray me, because this wasn’t something I could fight, not like this, not alone. “You don’t have to—”
His grip tightened just enough to cut me off. “Don’t,” he said, sharper now, the edge finally breaking through. “Don’t start beggin’. Ain’t gonna help you.”
Fear slid cold down my spine as I forced myself to hold his gaze, even when every instinct told me to look away, to run, to do anything but stand there.
“Drago doesn’t want this,” I said, grasping for anything that might slow this down, anything that might give me even a second.
That got something.
His eyes shifted just slightly, something darker settling in behind them before he answered. “Yeah… he does.”
My breath caught, my head shaking before I could stop it. “Please don’t do this,” I pleaded.
“He warned you,” Kane added, almost casually, like none of this mattered, like I didn’t matter.
My mind spun, searching for a way out that didn’t exist, every option collapsing before I could even reach it, and still I tried one last time. “Let go of me.”
He didn’t.
Instead, his other hand came up and grabbed my bag, yanking it from my shoulder like it had always been his. “Convenient,” he muttered. “You already packed.” He threw the suitcase against the wall and added, “But you won’t be needin’ any clothes.”
Panic flared hard now, my body reacting before my mind could catch up as I twisted again, trying to break free, trying to get distance, but it didn’t matter, because he was stronger, faster, and he wasn’t letting me go.
“Come on,” he said, tightening his grip as he pulled me forward, rough enough to bruise and not something I could fight, I stumbled with the movement, my breath coming fast and uneven as the reality of it crashed down all at once.
I was leaving.
Not the way I planned.
Not on my terms.
And as he dragged me toward the door, my gaze flicked back just once, toward my room, toward the note sitting there waiting for Gatsby—a warning he’d never get in time.
SOMETHING WAS OFF before I even knocked, not something I could name, just a low warning settling in my gut the second I pulled up outside her place, the house sitting too still with the lights off and her car in the driveway like it should’ve been, everything exactly where I expected it and somehow wrong anyway.
I stood there a second longer than I should have, listening, like I was waiting for something inside to shift, before I finally stepped forward and knocked, once and then harder, my voice following it low and rough.
“Evie.”
Nothing answered me, no movement, no sound, not even the kind of quiet that felt normal, and that was enough to have me stepping back, already pulling my phone out and calling her, my eyes dragging over the house again while it rang, slower this time, picking at details that didn’t line up no matter how I looked at them.
It rang longer than it ever did, longer than she usually let it, until it dropped to voicemail like she’d made that choice, and I stood there a second staring at the screen before calling again, getting the same result, the feeling in my chest pressing in tighter now, not panic, not yet, but close enough that it started digging under my skin.
My gaze shifted back to the door and then past it, already moving before I fully decided to, stepping off the porch and cutting toward the side of the house because if she wasn’t answering the front, I’d find another way in, my boots hitting gravel as the quiet seemed to close in tighter the further I went.
I made it halfway around before a voice cut in behind me, loud enough to stop me where I was.
“Hey—”
I turned fast, shoulders already tight, finding a kid standing in the next driveway with a bike tipped sideways against his leg like he’d rolled up quick and wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he had my attention, his eyes flicking between me and the house before he spoke.
“She ain’t home.”
I didn’t answer right away, just looked at him, letting that sit there a second before I asked, “What?”
“She left,” he said, shrugging like it didn’t matter, nodding toward the driveway. “Saw her earlier. She left on a motorcycle.”
My chest tightened just enough to notice, my gaze shifting back to the car and then the house before landing on him again.
“What color?”
“Black,” he said, squinting a little like he was trying to remember it clearer.
My Harley was black and maybe the kid was confused, thinking of another day. But it still didn’t sit right, not with the way the place felt, not with the way my gut was still pulling tight.
“When?” I pushed.
“Before it got dark,” he said after a second, and I held his gaze a beat longer before asking, “You see who she was with?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Just saw her get on.”
I looked past him again, back at the house, quiet, still, unchanged, like none of this touched it, and for a second I thought about finishing what I started anyway, going around back, finding a way in just to be sure, but the pieces almost fit, close enough to make me hesitate even if they didn’t settle clean.
“Anyone else been around?” I asked.
He shrugged again. “Don’t think so.”
Didn’t think so wasn’t good enough, but it was something, and it lined up just enough if I let it, Evie leaving, not answering, maybe with Roxy, maybe… I exhaled slow, dragging a hand over my jaw, forcing the edge down even though it didn’t go away completely.
“Alright,” I said finally.
The kid nodded like that was the end of it, pushing his bike upright and heading off without another word, leaving me standing there with the house still too quiet behind me and that feeling still sitting wrong in my gut no matter how I tried to settle it.
I pulled my phone out again instead, dialing Ruby this time as I stepped back toward the front, listening while it rang once before cutting off, my frown deepening as I checked the screen and tried again, getting nothing this time.
That was when it shifted, because Evie not answering was one thing, but Ruby not answering didn’t track, not after last night, not after the way Evie had looked, too quiet, too watchful, like she was already waiting for something to go wrong.
“Yeah,” I muttered under my breath, low and rough. “Something isn’t right.”
I didn’t go back around the house, didn’t knock again, but I didn’t linger either, standing there just long enough to look at the door one more time like I could see through it if I stared hard enough, before I finally turned and headed back to the bike, the engine kicking over beneath me as my mind worked through pieces that still didn’t fit no matter how I turned them.
Something was off.
***
BY THE TIME I pulled up, the place was lit the way it always was, bikes lined out front and noise spilling from inside, nothing out of place and everything exactly the same, except it didn’t sit right anymore, not with that same tight feeling still riding under my skin from her place, like I’d already missed something and was only just catching up to it now.
The second I stepped through the door, it hit again, quieter this time but sharper for it, settling in low and steady, like something had already shifted and I was walking into it late.
“Gatsby.”
Devil stood near the hall, his expression set in a way that said this wasn’t casual, not even close, his eyes already on me like he’d been waiting.
“In my office.”
I didn’t ask questions, didn’t slow down, just moved, my boots hitting heavier than usual as I headed down the hall, that warning tightening with every step until it stopped feeling like a warning and started feeling like pressure, something already in motion whether I wanted it to be or not.
The door was open, Mystic and Chain already inside and already watching, and I knew before anyone said a word that whatever this was, it wasn’t small, not something you brushed off or handled later.
The door clicked shut behind me, sealing it in.
“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice even, controlled, like I hadn’t already felt it building.
Nobody answered right away, their attention shifting toward Mystic, and yeah—if this was coming from anyone, it was him.
“I had someone follow the girls,” he said, no lead-in, no hesitation, like he didn’t need either.
My eyes narrowed slightly. “What girls?”
His gaze settled on me.
“Evie and Ruby.”
Everything in me went still, not outward, not where anyone could see it, but inside, like something locked into place before it had the chance to move.
“Why,” I said, flat, not a question so much as a demand for something that made sense.
“Ruby’s reaction at the bar wasn’t right,” he said. “And Evie was watchin’ her too close.”
My jaw tightened, the instinct to push back coming up fast, automatic. “That doesn’t mean—”
“They’re spies.” Final. Not speculation, not a theory, but something he’d already decided.
I held onto the version where there was another explanation, where this didn’t line up the way it sounded, held onto it just long enough to feel it start to slip through my fingers.
“Why do you think that,” I said, slower now, more deliberate.
“They both got picked up.”
The room shifted, the quiet turning heavier, tighter, like everything in it had just been pulled a notch closer.
“By who.”
A pause.
“Fire Dragons.”
It didn’t land clean, just settled wrong—heavy and uneven—because it didn’t make sense, not all the way, and I let myself stay there for half a second, in the version where it didn’t look like this.
“I watched Evie myself,” Mystic said. “And a prospect saw Ruby.”
And that should’ve been enough, and it usually was, but something caught anyway.
“Where,” I asked, the word slipping out before I could stop it, even though the kid had confirmed what Mystic said.
“From their houses,” he said without hesitation.
That word lodged somewhere it didn’t belong, not with the way she’d looked the night before, not with the quiet tension that had sat in her like she was waiting for something she didn’t want, not like someone setting anything up.
“She didn’t fight it,” I said, keeping my voice level even as something underneath it shifted, “not even a little?”
Mystic held my gaze. “Not that I could see.”
That was it. Small. Easy to miss. But it didn’t sit right, not with what I’d seen, not with the way she carried herself like she was always watching, always paranoid, like she was already halfway out the door before anything even started.
I shut it down anyway.
Hard.
Because everything else lined up too clean, her not answering, Ruby not answering, the way she’d gone quiet at the bar, the way she’d looked at me like she was already somewhere else, and that was louder than a feeling I couldn’t prove.
“There was no mistake,” Mystic repeated, quieter this time, closing it, and leaving no room left to argue.
I exhaled slow, my mind already moving whether I wanted it to or not. Something settled behind my ribs, not sharp, not explosive, just there, steady and digging in. I didn’t move.
“I can’t believe I never suspected Ruby,” Chain muttered. “Damn good actress.”
“She wasn’t the only one,” I said, quieter than I meant to.
Mystic didn’t look away. “Not good enough.”
“We’ve got prospects watching their places in case they come back,” Devil added, his voice steady, controlled. “Mystic followed as far as he could without getting made. Wherever they are, it’s out in the boonies, hit dirt and kept going.”
I nodded once, slow, more to keep myself grounded than anything else. “She said she had something going on,” I said, the words coming out more to myself than anyone else. “Wouldn’t tell me what.”
Chain exhaled. “Gats—”
I didn’t look at him, didn’t need to, just stood there and let it settle instead of reacting, because reacting fast got people killed, and I already had enough sitting in front of me whether I wanted it to or not.
I’d let her in.
Let her get close.
And somewhere in the middle of that, she’d been playing me.
I dragged a hand over my mouth, breathed out slow, and locked it down, because that part didn’t get to stay, not right now, not when there was something bigger sitting in front of me.
“We need to find out what those bastards are up to,” I said, calm, like something hadn’t just shifted in a way that wasn’t going back.
“We will,” Devil said. “We’ve got a starting point.”
“No better time than now.”
“War room.” He was already reaching for his phone.
I turned and walked out without another word, my head already colder, cleaner, everything in place where it needed to be… except for one thing that wouldn’t settle.
She didn’t fight it, and that didn’t fit.
Didn’t line up with what I’d seen, but I pushed it down anyway, because the rest of it made too much sense.