Page 104 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

NICO

I pace the length of the living room, phone pressed to my ear, as the pieces of bad news keep falling into place.

Seems like everyone and their fucking mothers are trying to take advantage of the fact that our clubhouse is now a pile of ashes.

It’s a sign of weakness in a world where the weak get eaten.

Quickly.

“So, what you’re saying is, we’re getting squeezed from two sides,” I grind out, my eyes narrowing as I take in the news. “They smell blood in the water, and they’re coming for us.”

“Yeah, that’s about the size of it.” The voice of one of my top lieutenants crackles over the line, sounding tense and worried.

“One by one, our enemies are making their presence known. And they’re getting bolder by the day.

We’re not just talking about the occasional drive-by to look for holes in our armor.

We’re way past that. Now they’re settling in. ”

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Fuck. We need to push back. Show them we’re not backing down. Not an inch.”

“That’s just it, Nico. We’re spread thin here.

Maybe a little too thin. A lot of the guys are still dealing with the aftermath of the fire.

Some of them still haven’t even found places to stay, now that our safehouses have had to handle the overflow.

This isn’t exactly the best time to ask folks to go above and beyond, you know?

We just don’t have a lot of extra hands for this kind of fight. ”

My gut twists. He’s right, and I know it. We’re not in a position to mount a strong defense, not right now. But I can’t just sit here and let these gangs take what’s ours. We need to fortify our position, send a clear message.

“Fine,” I snap, pent-up tension buzzing under my skin. “Keep your eyes and ears open and keep me in the loop. I’ll set up a couple more safe houses, but I want you to put out the word that we’re as strong as ever and we welcome the chance to prove it.”

Yeah, we both know it’s a fucking lie. And no, I hope like hell that I don’t have to back up my own tough talk anytime soon.

I end the call and toss the phone onto the couch as if it’s burning my hand. The leather cushions take the brunt of my frustration next, my knuckles bruising from the force of my blow.

Fucking bullshit. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. We were supposed to be untouchable. A force to be reckoned with. And now? Now we’re scrambling just to hold on to what’s left.

I shake my head, my jaw clenched. No. I won’t let this be our downfall. We’ll weather this storm, just like we’ve weathered all the others. I’ll make sure of it.

The sound of the front door interrupts my dark thoughts.

I glance up to see Atlas and Quinn stepping inside, their eyes scanning the room until they land on me.

There’s something different in how they’re acting.

Something is off. I can see it in the way they move, the slight shift in their body language.

My stomach clenches as the realization hits me. They fucked . The thought claws at my insides, but I keep my expression neutral, my eyes giving nothing away.

“Hey,” Atlas greets me, his voice carefully neutral. “Everything okay? You seem…” He trails off as if searching for the right word.

“Frustrated,” Quinn supplies, perceptive as always. Maybe a little too perceptive for my liking—at least in this moment. “You seem frustrated.”

“Among other things,” I reply, my voice deceptively calm. “Care to fill me in on what you two were up to?”

I force my gaze away from Quinn, from the way her hair falls in loose, messy waves and her lips are swollen and pink. I ignore the scent of sex that clings to her, that wraps around me like a chokehold.

She steps forward, holding a small notepad, seemingly oblivious to the way I’m feeling. I know her better than that though. When she and Atlas came back from Eros that night, I picked up on the tension between them right away—she has to know that I’ve picked up on it again.

But she doesn’t say a word about it, and neither do I.

I don’t know what the fuck to say. Don’t know whether I’m pissed off or jealous or… something else.

“I went back to the bar,” she says, her voice steadier now. “The bartender recognized my dad’s photo. He used to be a regular there. Apparently, he was tight with a few members of a local crew.”

“Go on,” I say, forcing myself to focus. My eyes narrow as I take the notepad from her, and a list of names stares back at me as I scan the page. Possible connections. Possible leads.

“He gave me these names,” Quinn continues, her voice tight. “Said they might be a good place to start. That they could point us in the right direction.”

“And you trust this guy?” I ask, reading each of the names.

She shrugs. “As much as I can trust anyone right now. He didn’t have to help me. The fact that he recognized my dad and was willing to talk is something.”

I nod, folding the paper and slipping it into my pocket. “We’ll check these leads out tomorrow. I’ll go with you.”

Quinn hesitates for a split-second, her eyes darting between Atlas and me. Then she nods once, sharp and curt. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight.”

I watch her climb the stairs, my jaw clenching as the scent of sex teases my nostrils once more, lingering in the air behind her.

Atlas moves toward the stairs a beat later, but I lift a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Hold up.”

He turns back, a hint of defiance and maybe a little guilt etched on his face. We stand there for a moment, tension thick between us. He definitely knows I’m aware of what went down, even if I don’t know all the specifics.

Do I want to know the specifics?

Fucking hell . I let out a slow breath, trying to clear my thoughts.

“Is this gonna be a problem?” I ask, keeping my voice low as I gesture with my chin toward the stairs Quinn just walked up.

He meets my gaze, unflinching. “No. It’s not.”

“You sure about that? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you just complicated things. Big time.”

Atlas runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every abrupt move he makes. “Look, I was just… getting her out of my system.”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head at his words. “That’s funny. I told myself the same damn lie when I fucked her in the basement.”

Something flickers in his eyes, but it isn’t surprise. Jealousy, maybe? Irritation that I’m calling him out for basically doing the same damn thing I did?

Doesn’t matter now anyway. What’s done is done.

“But here’s the thing,” I continue. “It didn’t work.

Not even a little bit.” I take a step closer to him, close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw.

“Quinn isn’t the kind of woman you just get out of your system.

Trust me on this. The more you have of her, the more you want. It’s like a fucking addiction.”

I watch as Atlas processes my words, his expression tightening even more.

“I’m telling you this as your friend. As your brother . Be careful. This shit? It’s complicated enough without adding more fuel to the fire.”

Atlas nods again, his voice rough when he speaks. “Yeah, I get it. I do.”

“We need to wrap this shit up, and fast.” I fill Atlas in on my plan, on what should have been the plan all along.

“We find out what the hell she has that’s so goddamn valuable, we get our money, and then we get the hell out.

We cut her out of our lives like we always planned to, once this job was done. ”

Atlas nods, his eyes hard and focused. “Yeah, that’s the move. No more distractions, no more dragging our feet.”

We stand there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Then, with a slight dip of his head, Atlas turns and starts to walk away, his body language determined and resolute.

I watch him go, my stomach twisting as I realize that, in spite of my tough talk, I’m not ready to let Quinn go.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever .

It’s a dangerous thought, one that could destroy us all if I’m not careful. But there it is—undeniable, at least within the confines of my own twisted fucking brain.

I wake up early, my mind already racing with the day ahead. After a quick shower and some coffee, I’m ready to go. Quinn meets me downstairs, looking tired but determined.

“Ready?” I ask, grabbing my jacket.

She nods, fishing her car keys out of her pocket. “Let’s do this.”

We climb into her beat-up Honda, the engine sputtering to life after a couple of tries. As we pull out onto the street, I unfold the list of names the bartender gave her.

“So, who’s first on our hit list?” Quinn asks, her eyes fixed on the road.

“Guy named Tommy Russo.”

Quinn’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “Bartender says he used to run with my dad back in the day.”

Not exactly the most helpful intel. Some random bartender happens to remember a couple of old drunks hanging out back in the day? This list could be a mile long if that’s our main criteria.

I can’t hold in a grunt. “That’s all we know?”

“It’s a start,” she says, glancing in my direction. “It won’t hurt to see what he has to say.”

We drive in silence for a while, the morning traffic thinning out as we head toward the outskirts of town. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out, frowning at the caller ID.

“Yeah?” I say as soon as I answer.

Quinn glances over again, looking curious instead of irritated this time.

“What do you mean, they’re moving in?” I growl into the phone, my free hand clenching into a fist. “No, don’t do anything yet. I’ll handle it.”

I hang up, muttering a string of curses under my breath.

“Everything okay?” Quinn asks.

I debate for a moment whether to tell her, then decide fuck it. She’s in deep already. “Some assholes are trying to chip away at my territory. Been happening more and more lately.”

Quinn kills the engine outside a run-down apartment complex and turns to face me.