Page 151 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

For a few minutes, all I do is hang out across the street, taking in the scene. The cops have clearly come and gone, and I can see the remnants of police tape across the busted front door. But I know Quinn’s people. They’re loyal to a fault, and they wouldn’t have said a word to the cops.

I cross the street, pushing through the broken door into the shop. It looks bad from the outside, but here within these four walls? It’s a fucking wreck.

Cabby and Damon are huddled near the back, talking quietly. They both go completely silent as I enter, eyeing me as I pick through the debris.

“Quinn is still out of commission,” I say, jerking my chin toward them in greeting. “But we can’t sit on our asses waiting for her to recover. We need to act now.”

Damon’s eyes narrow. “And who put you in charge?”

I meet his gaze steadily. “No one. But I’m here, and I’m ready to do what needs to be done. Unless you’ve got a better plan?”

The silence stretches for a moment before Cabby speaks up. “What did you have in mind?”

Smart man.

“First, we need to finish securing this place. Board up the windows, reinforce the doors. Damon, you know the local hardware stores. Get what we need.”

Damon hesitates, then nods grudgingly.

“Cabby, start reaching out to our contacts. We need eyes and ears on the street. We already know who was behind this attack, but we need to make sure we’re not caught flat-footed if they decide to come back and finish us off.”

“On it,” Cabby says, already pulling out his phone.

I continue delegating orders for a few minutes, surprised at how little resistance Quinn’s crew is giving me.

They’ve seen us together enough over the past couple of weeks to know I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her gang, but still…

I doubt the Princes would’ve given her this same sort of reception if the situation had been reversed.

“What about Quinn?” Cabby asks during a lull.

“She’s safe,” I assure them. “But she needs time to recover. For now, we focus on keeping Enigma running and proving to the rest of the city that we might be down, but we’re sure as hell not out. We have plenty of fight left in us if they decide to bring it.”

They nod, determination replacing the earlier wariness in their eyes. It’s a start, I think. We’ve got a long way to go, but at least we’re moving in the right direction.

I clear my throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “One more thing. Spread the word about Emmett. He’s not to be trusted. He’s a traitor.”

The room falls silent, and Damon’s eyes narrow. “Emmett? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I say, my jaw clenching. “He’s working against us. If anyone sees him or gets wind of his whereabouts, I want to know immediately.”

Cabby nods, already tapping away on his phone. “I’ll make sure everyone knows.”

For the next several hours, I throw myself into the chaos of rebuilding.

Enigma members filter in and out, each receiving assignments and updates as I delegate tasks, doing my best to make sure everyone has a role to play.

Some are tasked with gathering intelligence, others with reinforcing our defenses.

A few of our more tech-savvy members start working on improving our communication systems, making them more secure.

“We need to shore up our supply lines,” I tell Damon as we pore over a map of the city. “The Princes will be looking to cut us off. We can’t let that happen.”

He nods, pointing to several locations. “I’ve got contacts here, here, and here. We can set up alternate routes.”

As the day wears on, I can feel the energy in the room shift. The initial shock and fear give way to determination and purpose. These people are fighters, and they’re not about to let Enigma fall without a hell of a fight.

By the time several hours have passed, we’ve made a lot of progress. The windows are boarded up, our communications are more secure, and we’ve established new supply routes. It’s not perfect, but it’s a damn good start.

I look around at the faces of Quinn’s crew—my crew now, at least temporarily. They’re tired, but nobody has wavered. Not even a little. We’ve taken a hit, but we’re still standing.

I drag myself out of Blood and Ink as the sun begins to set. I’ve been too busy for most of the day to think about how tired I am, but now that things are settling, exhaustion hits me like a freight train.

The drive back to Quinn’s place is a blur. My mind keeps drifting to Atlas, worrying about how he’s holding up or if that bastard Ambrose is still putting him through hell.

I suspect things have only gotten worse since this morning’s phone call, but I can’t let my mind wander too far in that direction or I’ll really start to lose my shit.

I pull into Quinn’s driveway, kill the engine, and drag myself out of the car, then fumble with the keys at the front door. Inside, the house is still and shadowy as I make a round through the ground floor, checking windows and doors before finally heading upstairs.

The bedroom door creaks as I push it open, and I can see at a glance that Quinn and Killian are already asleep. She’s curled up against his side, her face pale and drawn, even while she’s resting.

I strip down and slide into bed on Quinn’s other side, wincing when she whimpers softly in her sleep.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper, almost silently, as I move closer and wrap an arm around her waist. Killian stirs slightly, adjusting his position on the other side of the bed so that she’s nestled securely between us.

The worry for Atlas is still at the front of my mind, and I know those thoughts aren’t going away while he’s still out there on his own. For now, though, the best thing I can do is be here, protecting Quinn and making a plan to bring him home.