Page 19 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

Three new roommates?

God fucking dammit.

My mind races as I stare up at Nico through slitted eyes. We’ve been married for less than an hour, and already, my life has been completely turned upside down.

When I said ‘I do,’ I was planning on dealing with him from a distance. I had prepared myself for him insisting on meeting on his turf, trying to throw his weight around and leverage our marriage to his advantage. But I had no idea that he planned on taking it this far.

I glance at Killian and Atlas, surprised the two of them haven’t spoken up yet. Atlas is glowering at me like he’s just waiting for a kill order from Nico, and Killian’s face is still impassive, although something has shifted behind his eyes.

“What about you two?” I ask. “You’re fine with him just deciding that you have to play house with me?”

Atlas grinds his jaw, and I can tell there’s something he wants to say, but he doesn’t vocalize it. Instead, he just shrugs a shoulder, which is a good enough answer that he’ll do whatever Nico tells him to do.

Killian, predictably, says nothing.

I can’t tell whether this is something they already planned between the three of them, or if Nico’s two attack dogs are just as blindsided by this as I am. Either way, it’s clear that the two of them aren’t going to talk him out of it.

I drum my fingers against my thigh, trying to come up with some alternative that Nico might accept.

I guess I could say I’d move in with them at the clubhouse after all, but that still means I’d be living with all three of them.

And to be honest, I don’t want to be on their turf like that.

I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder constantly, wondering when the knife is going to slip between my ribs.

I’d be outnumbered in a big way, and the thought of that makes my skin crawl.

Then there’s always the tried and true method of just removing them from the picture entirely.

I have my gun strapped to my thigh, hidden under the dress, and I could probably reach for it and take out at least one of them before the other two could make a move.

Taking out all three of them would be an issue though, and ultimately, that would be a stupid plan.

The chances of me getting out of a fight like that alive are pretty slim, and if I killed the three most important members of the Princes of Carnage, the full fury of the rest of their gang would come down on mine. That would defeat the purpose of trying to keep my gang safe in the first place.

I could suggest we find a different, more neutral place to live, but that opens up a whole host of new problems.

As much as I hate to admit it, one of us moving in with the other makes the most sense. And considering I don’t want to go to them, that just leaves them coming to me. Nico’s not going to budge on Atlas and Killian coming with him. That’s abundantly clear.

If they move in with me, I’ll still be outnumbered, but it will give me the upper hand of being on my own turf.

That’s something. And living under the same roof will put me in a position to be able to study these three men better.

I’ve had multiple run-ins with the three of them and their crew, of course, but most of that has been superficial shit.

Nothing that tells me who they truly are and what their weaknesses might be.

Having them in my house will mean living in close enough quarters that hopefully they won’t be able to hide anything from me.

I can watch them, learn their patterns and their habits, and put together a plan for how to move forward in the future.

Once this outside threat is dealt with and our groups inevitably go back to being enemies—because that’s clearly what’s going to happen, wedding vows be damned—I’ll have so much more information that I can use as leverage against them.

And besides that, this will take all three of them away from their own headquarters for a good chunk of the time. Although that won’t severely weaken their gang, it will give me a bit of an edge over them if I need it.

Maybe I can actually turn this thing that Nico is insisting on to my advantage .

“Fine,” I say, nodding grudgingly. “If you’re all on board with that, then so am I. I have enough guest rooms at my house to give all of you your own space.”

“Don’t you mean just Atlas and Killian?” Nico smirks, a hint of wry amusement returning to his face. “Because as husband and wife, you and I should be sharing a room.”

I bare my teeth at him. “Don’t push your fucking luck, or you’ll be sleeping in the yard.”

Atlas snorts under his breath. “You don’t want to share a room with her anyway, Nico. Unless you want to have to sleep with a gun under your pillow.”

I glare at Atlas over Nico’s shoulder. Killian, as usual, has nothing to add to the discussion. He stands with his hands folded behind his back like an intimidating brick wall, watching our exchange with glittering, perceptive green eyes.

“Are you going straight home after this?” Nico asks, bringing my attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll have my people start moving our things over soon then. Expect us in a few hours.”

“Fine.”

This time, when I turn on my heel to leave, no one stops me.

I have enough time when I get back home to change out of the wedding dress, toss it into a crumbled ball at the back of my closet, and then take a shower.

I think about trying to clean the place up a little, but then I decide I don’t care. It’s not that messy, considering I don’t really spend much time here beyond eating and sleeping most days, and if Nico and his friends have an issue with dust, they can go fuck themselves.

It only takes a couple of hours before someone is banging on my front door, and I open it to see members of the motorcycle club carrying boxes up the driveway.

Killian, Nico, and Atlas bring up the rear, entering the house along with their men. I stand in the living room, watching as they form an assembly line to carry shit inside, stacking the boxes neatly against the walls.

It feels like a long time ago that I decided having them move in with me could be a tactical advantage.

That decision feels far away now that I’m standing here, watching them invade my space.

My sanctuary. This house has been the place I come to get away from it all, to clear my head as best I can, and to think about my dad where no one can rush in to pity me.

I didn’t quite realize until now, how few people have been here since my dad died.

When he was alive, there were always people coming and going.

Members of Enigma who’d stop by to give reports and stay for dinner or to watch a game.

Meetings where everyone would bring a dish and we’d all sit down to eat together.

Friends of my dad’s who’d come by just to chat or play cards.

This place was just as much a part of things as the tattoo parlor, and it made it seem like it was always full of life.

Since Dad died though, I’ve been doing pretty much all of the gang business out of Blood and Ink. The idea of having people come by the house just felt too… heavy. Like it was too much too soon, even though it’s been a year already.

Maybe it was part of the grieving process or something, but I didn’t want to disturb this place. It felt almost as if letting other people come over would shatter the memories of my father that still linger in almost every room of the house, and I just haven’t been ready for that yet.

It makes it feel even more wrong that the first people to be here are the Princes of Carnage.

Nico, Atlas, and Killian don’t waste a second in making themselves at home. Killian oversees most of the moving, watching their people come and go with boxes with that sharp-eyed precision he seems to have.

Atlas and Nico poke around the ground floor, opening drawers and cabinets, examining the books on the shelves in the living room, testing out the furniture.

It’s like they’re animals in the fucking wild, marking the space with their scent or something, laying a claim to it.

They might as well be pissing in the goddamn corners, honestly.

Nico turns away from the bookshelf with a small, leather-bound book in hand. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, I snatch the book away from him.

“Don’t fucking touch that,” I snap, cradling it to my chest protectively.

It’s one of my father’s ledgers, where he’d keep records of gang business and sometimes doodle in the margins.

When I inherited this place, I found notebooks and journals like this scattered all over the house, filled with my dad’s handwriting and little drawings of pieces that would likely become future tattoos.

Some of them I moved to the bookshelf, and some of them I left where I found them.

Now that my house has been invaded by these fuckers, I wish I’d boxed them all up and hidden them somewhere safe.

He laughs, leaning against the shelf. “We’re married now, mia cara,” he says teasingly. “What’s yours is mine.”

“Keep that energy when I start going through your shit,” I mutter, turning away.

He doesn’t make a move to grab for the book or take any more off the shelf. Instead, he pushes away and goes back to making sure their things are being moved in appropriately.

It takes another hour to move everything in, and then the other members of their gang trickle out. Nico closes the door behind them, leaving just the four of us in the quiet of the house.

Only it’s not so quiet anymore.

I’d just about gotten used to the new silence of the house, the way the only things in it that make noise are the ticking clocks, the rumbling of the ice maker in the fridge, and me when I’m walking around.

But now there are the sounds of the three Princes settling in, taking over my space like they live there. Which… they do.

Just thinking about it fills me with a sort of wary, restless anxiety.