Page 198 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

My chest tightens. “Atlas?—”

“They beat him to death and made me watch.” His grip on my face eases, but he doesn’t let go. “Without him there to look out for me, I knew it was just a matter of time before they killed me too.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran.” The admission seems to hurt, even now. “I left everything behind. The club. Everyone I knew. My whole fucking life. I ran until I couldn’t anymore.”

I swallow hard. “How did you survive?”

“The same way you will. One day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time. Sometimes one breath at a time.” His other hand finds my waist, anchoring me. “I learned pretty quickly that survival means letting go of the shit you thought defined you. Your home. Your colors. Your family.”

“But your father?—”

“Would’ve wanted me alive.” His eyes hold mine. “Just like yours would want you alive. Whatever it takes.”

My voice shakes. “I failed him.”

“No.” The word comes out sharp and strong. “You protected your people. Just like I protected myself. Sometimes that means walking away.”

“They’ll think I abandoned them.” The words taste bitter. “They’ll think I’m weak.”

“Fuck what they think.” His jaw clenches. “You think I gave a shit what people thought when I left Chicago? When I was sleeping in alleys and stealing to eat?”

“You were so young. How long were you alone?”

“Too long.” Something dark passes through his eyes. “Until I learned that being alone doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you dead inside.”

“Did you become dead inside?”

“Almost.” He exhales and his tone lightens just a fraction. “Then I found something worth living for. I thought I’d never have anything again. I thought I’d always be alone and running, without a place to call home. Then I found Nico and Killian.”

I glance over his shoulder. The other two men stand a few yards away, giving us space but staying close. Always close.

“You found your family,” I whisper.

“We found each other.” His thumb traces my bottom lip. “Just like we found you.”

Something in my chest cracks. “I don’t know if it’s that simple.”

“Listen to me.” He presses his forehead to mine. “You haven’t lost everything. You’ve got us. All three of us. And we’re not going anywhere.”

“You can’t promise that. Look what happened to you already. Ambrose will start coming for the three of you next.”

“Ambrose is fucking dead, he just doesn’t know it yet.” His grip tightens. “You think I survived all that shit just to walk away now? You think any of us would?”

I close my eyes, breathing him in. Feeling the solid warmth of him. The strength of him.

“I can’t lose anyone else.”

“You won’t.” He kisses me, hard and fast. “We protect our own. Always.”

“And what happens when that’s not enough?”

He pauses, then something in his expression hardens. “Then we go down fighting. Together. All of us.”

Looking into his eyes, I see the truth of it. I see the same determination I’ve always admired in him and the same strength that kept him alive all those years ago.

“I don’t deserve?—”

“Don’t.” He cuts me off with another kiss. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

I pull back from Atlas just enough to dig the burner phone from my pocket. His hands stay on my waist as I dial, and I’m thankful for that small comfort. I’m going to need it.

Malcolm picks up on the second ring. “This had better be important.”

“I need to use another votum.” My voice comes out stronger than I feel.

Silence stretches across the line. Then he says, “You’re certainly burning through them quickly.”

“Can you call the meeting or not?”

“You’re eager to test everyone’s patience, aren’t you?” His tone carries an edge of warning.

Atlas’s fingers dig into my hip. A reminder he’s there. That I’m not alone.

“My house is gone.” I keep my voice level. “My business is burning. I need somewhere secure.”

“Ah.” Malcolm’s voice shifts, taking on that smooth, dangerous quality I’m learning to hate. “And you think the Syndicate should clean up your mess?”

“I think the Syndicate should honor its vows.” I meet Atlas’s eyes as I speak. “Unless your word means nothing.”

Nico and Killian move closer, flanking Atlas.

“Watch yourself.” Malcolm’s words come out soft but deadly. “You’re new to our ranks. You haven’t earned the right to question my honor.”

“Then prove it. Call the meeting.”

Another long pause. I can almost hear him weighing his options and deciding whether to make this difficult for me.

Finally, he says, “One hour. The usual place.”

He hangs up before I can respond.

“Fuck.” The word comes out in a breath as I exhale and let my forehead fall against Atlas’s chest.

“We’ll be right there with you.” His words rumble through me.

“The whole time,” Killian adds.

Nico’s hand finds the back of my neck. “No matter what they try to pull.”

I nod against Atlas’s chest, drawing strength from the three of them.

We stand like that for a moment, the four of us connected. Then I lift my head.

“Let’s go.” I shove the phone back in my pocket. “We’ve got an hour to figure out how not to piss off a room full of killers.”

Atlas’s mouth quirks. “Again.”

In spite of everything, I feel my lips twitch. “Again.”

It doesn’t take long to make it back to Noctura. I’m pretty sure we’ve all memorized the route by now.

The basement feels colder than last time. Or maybe it’s just the way everyone stares as we enter, their eyes full of barely concealed annoyance.

“And we’re back again.” Cassandra’s lip curls, and she shares a look with Imogen before adding, “This should be interesting.”

I ignore her and take my seat. My men position themselves behind me as always, my wall of muscle in the viper pit.

Malcolm sits at the head of the table, his expression completely neutral. “Quinn needs our assistance.”

“Again.” Elliot doesn’t even try to conceal his disdain.

“I need somewhere secure.” I look around the table from face to face. “A place Ambrose can’t touch.”

Imogen leans forward. “I have a penthouse. Top floor security, private elevator access. I use it for high rollers.”

I study her face, looking for the catch. But her expression gives nothing away.

“That would work.” Malcolm nods. “What else?”

Rafael offers surveillance equipment. Owen promises to have his people sweep the building for bugs. One by one, they contribute something, although I can feel their resentment building with each offer.

These people aren’t used to giving. They’re used to taking.

“It’s settled then.” Malcolm’s eyes find mine. “Imogen will contact you when everything is ready.”

As chairs scrape back and people start to rise, I catch Elliot muttering something about me being an entitled little bitch under his breath.

Atlas shifts behind me, but I touch his leg. Not worth it. Not yet.

Imogen catches my arm as we head for the stairs. “A word?”

My men tense, but I nod. We move away from the others, into the nearest corner of the cavernous room.

“The penthouse is yours.” Her voice drops low. “But you should know that you’re making enemies fast. Too fast.”

“It isn’t my intention to make enemies with anyone here.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Her eyes flick to the others filing past us. “You’re using your votums too quickly. Recklessly.”

“The circumstances?—”

“They don’t care about circumstances.” She cuts me off. “They care about respect and paying your dues.”

My jaw clenches. “I don’t have time for their games.”

“Make time.” Her fingers dig into my arm. “Or you won’t survive long enough to use another votum.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning.” She releases me. “People have died for less than what you’ve done in the short time you’ve been here.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Her smile is sharp. “That’s a matter of perception.” She steps back. “Watch yourself, Quinn. And watch your men. The Syndicate’s patience only stretches so far.”

I watch her walk away, knowing she’s right. But what else can I do? I either face Ambrose alone or I incur the wrath of the Syndicate. Either way, I’ll probably end up dead.