Page 2 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

Motherfucker .

I duck out of the way of my would-be attacker and lash out, aiming a punch at his gut. There’s a small grunt of pain that lets me know I hit my mark, and I swing an elbow, going for the face this time.

Just as I make contact, someone slams into me from the side, knocking me off balance as strong arms wrap around me. We stagger sideways, and I drop my weight suddenly and twist out of my second attacker’s grip, going down to the floor.

“Shit,” I grunt under my breath, my pulse hammering in my ears. I put my hands on the rough cement floor and use that for leverage, turning quickly to try to sweep the legs out from under the first man.

I kick him in the ankle hard enough that he stumbles, and then I’m back up, ready to fight off the second man. He comes at me hard and fast, going for a tackle again, but I sidestep him and catch him with a fist to the jaw, falling back on pure instinct and muscle memory.

This isn’t the first fight I’ve gotten into in some shitty warehouse, and it won’t be the last.

Despite the fact that both men are bigger than I am, I’m holding my own just fine. Or at least… I am until a third person joins the fight.

As I back away from the first man who tried to grab me, my gaze scanning for an opening to attack, a fist wraps around my hair from behind.

I cry out in shock and pain as my head snaps backward. I can’t see whoever grabbed me yet, but his grip is tight and unyielding, and when he finally lets go, it’s just to grab my throat and shove me painfully against the dusty, graffiti-etched wall of the building.

“Get. The fuck. Off me,” I growl, my chest burning as I dig my nails into the guy’s forearms, ready to draw blood.

He tightens his hand in response, cutting off my air enough that my heart rate spikes, making my pulse thrum against his palm. Our gazes lock for a long moment, his dark green eyes burning into mine. Then he releases me and steps back smoothly as his two partners move in.

The second one presses me against the wall with his body, using his bulk and height advantage to keep me pinned in place. The one who attacked me first grabs my wrists, yanking them up to pin them over my head against the wall.

I fight against his grip, but he just tightens it painfully.

“I’d stop struggling if I were you, Quinn. I’d hate to have to break your wrists,” he says, a note of amusement in his deep voice.

Son of a fucking bitch .

My lips press together, fury filling me as I glare up at Nico Morelli.

It’s bad enough that three people managed to get the drop on me as I was investigating the attack on Paulie.

I got fucking distracted by what probably wasn’t even a blood stain after all, and that distraction made me drop my guard—just for a half- second, but it was long enough.

That’s the kind of mistake my dad would’ve berated me heavily for if he were still alive. He taught me better than this.

But what makes it all even worse? The three men who caught me in my moment of fucking weakness are the leader of the Princes of Carnage and his two best friends.

Nico is taller than me by a good bit, built like someone who was raised on violence and born to lead.

His dark hair is mussed up from our altercation, and a sort of savage pleasure fills me as I take in the bruise that’s blooming on his handsome face from where I hit him.

His mismatched eyes—one blue and one green—glitter as he stares back at me, his gaze scanning my face.

His friend and de facto bodyguard, Atlas Demaro, is the one keeping me shoved against the wall.

Atlas isn’t quite as bulky as Nico, and definitely not as built as their third friend, Killian Graves.

But he has a fighter’s body, and I know he knows how to use it.

He has a reputation for being an enforcer, taking people down with ruthless efficiency, always ready to protect the motorcycle gang they’re all a part of.

“I should have known,” I spit out, my lip curling as I narrow my eyes. “You’re the ones who’ve been fucking with my business. Did you send your men to attack my runner?”

Atlas snorts, drawing my attention to his face.

His features are less harshly angular than Nico’s, but they’re perfectly symmetrical, with strong cheekbones and a straight nose.

His brown eyes turn to a color almost like amber near his irises, reminding me of the warm flickering of coals, and they seem out of place against his harsh facial expression and inky black hair.

“You sure about that?” he asks, his voice low.

Nico smirks where he stands beside Atlas, looking infuriatingly calm. “It’s flattering that you think of us like that, but it wasn’t the Carnage who attacked your man.”

“Right.” I scoff. “But you just happened to be here while we’re investigating the attack. Try that line on someone else, you fucking asshole.”

I jerk against Nico’s hold on my wrists and try to twist away from Atlas, using my slenderness to my advantage. I get maybe an inch or so of leverage before I’m slammed right back against the wall.

“Uh uh. You’re not going anywhere just yet,” Nico says. “Not until we’re done having our little chat.”

Killian, the man who grabbed my hair, is standing behind his two friends, and he takes a half step closer as if getting ready to join them in restraining me if he needs to.

He’s massive and menacing, easily one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen.

Unlike the other two, he doesn’t have any visible tattoos, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.

I curl my hands into fists, pissed as fuck that my stupid mistake put me in this position.

Against one or even two of these men, I’d be able to hold my own.

But the three of them are like each other’s shadows, always together, coordinating so smoothly that it’s like they share a goddamn brain.

They have the upper hand against me right now, and all three of them know it.

“Get the fuck off me,” I hiss, shifting my attention back to Nico. “And then maybe we can talk.”

Nico’s lips lift upward at the corners into an almost-smile. “After the way you attacked me when I just came here to have a simple conversation with you? I don’t think so. I can’t trust that you’ll keep those claws in.”

He tightens his hold on my wrists a little as he speaks, arching one eyebrow.

Atlas, following Nico’s lead, presses me harder against the wall, shifting his weight so that one of his thighs slips between my legs.

This has two effects. One is that it forces my legs wider, making me widen my stance to keep my balance.

And the other is that the hard muscle of his thigh presses right against my clit.

An unexpected jolt of heat shoots through me, hitting me like a bolt of lightning with the suddenness of it.

I stiffen, going up on my tiptoes a little to put more space between us as I fight to keep my expression neutral.

My pulse quickens against my will, and I can feel my nipples go hard, but I don’t let my reaction show on my face.

That’s the last fucking thing I need right now.

“Why would I keep my claws in when you’re around?” I demand, glaring at Nico to distract myself from the way I can still feel Atlas’s thigh wedged between my legs. “You’d look so much better with an eye patch.”

His lips twitch again as if he’s trying to hide a smirk at my words.

“I’ll keep that in mind. And I guess it’s not surprising that you don’t trust me,” he adds, his voice turning thoughtful.

That’s a fucking understatement and a half. The Princes of Carnage have always been a thorn in my side. Their territory borders ours, and there have been conflicts and skirmishes between our gangs since back when my dad was leading Enigma.

“But the attack on your man wasn’t us,” Nico continues, shaking his head. “We’d take credit for it if it was.”

“Then what the fuck is all of this?” I snap, jerking my chin to encompass the empty warehouse around us and the three of them surrounding me. “If you wanted a meeting, you could have just told me.”

Nico purses his full lips, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I wanted something more… informal. Without anyone else present. We need to talk. Leader to leader.”

My nostrils flare as I exhale in irritation. “ This is what you call informal?”

He just shrugs again, and I have a sudden urge to headbutt him right between the eyes. If he were a little closer, I’d be tempted to do it, despite the fact that it would definitely escalate tensions between our gangs.

But the truth is, part of me is curious about what he has to say. He sought me out alone, which isn’t how he usually handles things, and there has to be a reason for that.

“You want to talk?” I adjust my stance a little, which has the unfortunate effect of grinding my clit against Atlas’s thigh again, but I ignore it. “Fine. Then talk. But make it quick. If my men find you three touching me like this, you’re dead.”

Nico tilts his head to one side, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

I can’t tell if he’s doing it just to piss me off or because he’s trying to organize his thoughts, but he finally says, “You’re not the only one being attacked.

We’ve been having the same issues you’re having.

There’s someone going after our runners and disappearing with our money. And I can’t have that.”

Ah. That’s why he didn’t want to have this meeting in a more formal setting .

No one likes to admit a weakness to their enemies, which is probably why Nico decided to approach me when I was separated from my men. He wanted to keep it private.

“And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?” I scowl. “You know it wasn’t us.”