Page 101 of Gatsby's Starlet
She didn’t look away this time.
“I told them I was seeing Gatsby, that Drago wanted information on the club and pushed me to get close, and when I refused to do what he asked… he took me.”
Silence followed, not empty but measured, because every man in that room was running it through, turning it over, looking for cracks, and there weren’t any that mattered.
My jaw tightened anyway, something low settling in my chest at hearing it said out loud like that, at the way it tied me into it in a way that wasn’t clean or simple, but I didn’t move or interrupt, didn’t break the line she was holding.
“They press you for info about us?” Devil asked.
Evie shook her head. “They had an informant inside the Fire Dragons, and they already knew two women were being held, I just confirmed it. They didn’t ask anything about your club.”
Devil watched her another second before his gaze shifted, sweeping the room and reading reactions as he weighed what came next.
“Not even Montgomery?”
That name sat different now, heavier, and Evie hesitated—not long, but enough that I caught it, enough that my focus sharpened just slightly.
“He questioned us,” she said carefully. “Did his job. That’s it. I swear he never asked about you guys.”
Devil held her there another second before giving a single nod, like he’d decided where it landed, and even though the tension didn’t disappear, it shifted just enough to move things forward, because this wasn’t over—not with Drago still breathing and not with the feds circling the edges of all of it.
My gaze went back to Evie, holding there longer than it should have as something tight and final settled in my chest, because she was in this now, all the way, and there wasn’t a version of this where I let anything touch her again.
***
ONCE THE DOORclosed behind her, the room shifted without breaking, the tension still sitting heavy as the weight of what she’d said settled where it needed to.
Chain leaned forward slightly, his voice rough but measured. “Story holds, but it don’t change what comes next.”
“Drago’s still breathing,” another added, “and if he thinks she crossed him, it won’t matter where he is—not for her, not for Zeynep.”
The room tightened again at that, the reality of it sitting heavy because everyone knew it was true, and Mystic didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll handle him,” he growled, low and dangerous. “I don’t give a fuck how.”
I already knew where this was going before anyone said it out loud.
“She still don’t wear a patch,” Gearhead said, looking straight at me.
“And that means she ain’t protected by us,” Chain finished, the words landing heavier than anything else that had been said.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was thick, heavy, the kind that pressed in while everyone waited to see how it was going to land.
Devil’s gaze moved to me then, steady and unreadable. “You know the law.”
Yeah. I knew it.
“I got it,” I said, pushing forward before anything else could settle in. “She’s mine, and she’ll be wearing my patch before the sun goes down.”
No hesitation, no second-guessing, just the truth of it sitting there where everyone could see it.
Devil held my gaze another second before giving a slight nod. “Then she’s covered, but we move careful. Feds are watching her, and you know they are.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll handle it.”
And I would.
“What are we goin’ do about that fucker Montgomery sniffin’ around Brenda?” Bolt asked.
