Page 204 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

My stomach clenches at the mention of Emmett’s name.

The way he betrayed me is still too raw, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the visceral reaction I have whenever I think back on how much I trusted him and how easily he sold me out.

I flex my fingers against my thigh, trying to keep my face neutral.

I’m pretty sure I’m losing that battle though.

But Priest has a good point. As much as I hate to think about him or speak his name, Emmett is the only real connection we have to Ambrose. It’s just a matter of how we can exploit that connection in some useful way.

Knox lets out a grunt of agreement, his darkly handsome features twisting.

“Rats always go where the food is. It’s been that way since the beginning of time.

Cowardly little shits like Emmett? They’re always sniffing around the strongest person in the room, begging for scraps.

Which means he’s probably still working for Ambrose, or trying to. ”

“You really think so?” I ask, even though I feel like I already know the answer. Emmett won’t be able to resist playing both sides if he thinks it might benefit him.

Knox’s lips quirk into what might be a faint smile, but there’s absolutely no humor in his expression.

Or in his words. “The way I see it, even with the Tyrants watching his back now, you can bet your ass he’s still trying to stay useful to Ambrose too.

He’s probably desperate for another fat payout.

” He snorts. “That type of coward needs to hedge their bets. They have to keep themselves valuable to the real players.”

I drag in a breath, anger settling deep in my gut at the memory of how Emmett used to stick so close to my side, always wanting to be the first one I turned to for counsel or advice. Always wanting to be my right hand. What a fucking joke that turned out to be.

He never truly had my back—he just acted like he did, wanting to be near me because I was in power. But when it came down to it, he sold me out without a second thought.

My thoughts shift to my past animosity with the Princes, the men I once considered my enemies.

Even though we all had a rocky start, they were never as bad as Emmett was.

At least they had some sense of loyalty, even if it wasn’t to me back then.

But they were loyal to their gang, loyal to each other.

Emmett, though? He’s only ever been loyal to one person: himself.

“Okay.” I nod, my mind racing as I start to piece together a plan. “If anyone can lead us to Ambrose, it’s going to be Emmett.”

Nico nods, picking up the thread of my thought.

“With any luck, he’s left a trail of breadcrumbs behind him, either because he’s too stupid or too arrogant to cover his tracks properly.

And with even more luck, he’ll be too focused on chasing the next payday to watch his back when we come after him. ”

Knox shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling over his forehead.

“That little worm is probably on his knees right now, begging Ambrose to keep him around. To keep finding uses for him.” He lets out a harsh laugh.

“Men like that? They’re more scared of being useless than they are of dying—and they’re real fucking scared of dying. ”

Atlas nods, determination flashing in his eyes. “Ambrose might be cunning as hell, but Emmett isn’t. He’ll get sloppy, make a mistake, show his fucking face where he shouldn’t.”

Killian catches my gaze with that intense stare that makes me feel like I’m the only other person in the room with him. “Then we’ll find him, siren. And he’ll lead us to Ambrose.”

Knox nods in satisfaction, his grin a bit blood-thirsty. “And if you need any help burying a body afterward, we know some spots.”

That draws a laugh out of me, and the tension in my shoulders eases slightly. Finally, we have something concrete to work with. A real lead to follow. Emmett might be a selfish low-life, but his desperation to matter could just be exactly what we need.

River shifts in her seat, lifting a warning brow. “Just remember that rats have a tendency to bite when they’re cornered.”

“Let him try.” Killian’s expression turns murderous. “I’ve been wanting to break his fingers since the day he sold Quinn out.”

“I’ve been wanting to fuck him up since before then,” Atlas mutters. “He’s had a reckoning coming for a while.”

I reach over and squeeze his hand, grateful for his protective instinct but needing him to stay focused. “One thing at a time. First we find him, then we make him talk. And then we make him regret ever knowing our names.”

There’s a rumble of agreement among all three of my men, and I nod, surprised at how much clearer my head feels. I don’t know if this is what Willow intended when she invited us over, but the solidarity and the fresh perspective on our situation helped a hell of a lot.

I roll my shoulders, feeling a few cracks and pops as the tense muscles protest the movement.

“We should head out,” I say, glancing at Willow. “It’s getting late, and we have some preparations to make if we’re going to go rat hunting.”

“Okay.” She nods, rising from the couch. “I hope this helped.”

“It did. Thank you.” I hesitate, then shift my gaze around the room, glancing at the mismatched group of people gathered in the large, open space. “Thanks, to all of you.”

“Anytime.” River nods, catching my gaze as my men move to join me.

She gives me a knowing look, one that makes me feel like she understands both the exhaustion and the drive for vengeance simmering in my veins. I return the gesture, feeling a flicker of connection that’s similar to the way I felt about Willow when we first met.

Leaving the others behind in the living room, Willow walks us to the door. Before I can step outside, she pulls me into a quick hug that still catches me off guard. I’m not used to this kind of casual affection, but I find myself leaning into it for just a moment.

“Be careful,” she says quietly. “And call if you need anything. I mean it.”

I pull back and give her a genuine smile. “Thanks. You’ve been… a real friend.”

The guys are already heading for their bikes, and I follow them out feeling stronger than I did when we got here.

My thoughts are racing faster than my bike as we speed through the streets back to the condo. Ideas for tracking down Ambrose race through my mind—places to look, people to squeeze for information, ways to use Emmett’s predictable desperation against him.

But there’s something else too, an unfamiliar feeling that I can’t quite shake. Something that hits me as I follow my men through a sharp turn, watching how they move in perfect sync, how they adjust their formation to keep me protected in the middle without even having to discuss it.

For so long after my father died, I felt completely fucking alone. Like I was drowning in responsibilities and expectations, with no one to really trust. Sure, I had the gang, but being their leader meant always having to be strong. Always having to know the answers, even when I didn’t.

But now? Now I have Willow actually worried about me, checking up on me like I matter to her beyond whatever favors we might owe each other. Like she genuinely gives a shit whether I live or die.

My throat tightens as we pull into the parking garage beneath the condo.

Because it’s not just Willow. I have my men too.

The Princes. Three dangerous, brutal men who have seen me at my worst and still chose to stay by my side.

Who have proven over and over that they’ll go to war for me, just like I would for them.

I kill my engine, pulling off my helmet as the guys do the same. Looking at them, something shifts in my chest. These men will never betray my trust again. They’ll never abandon me. I know it deep in my bones, with the kind of certainty I haven’t felt since my father was alive.

We head for the elevator, and my thoughts are still going a mile a minute. Atlas hits the button for the penthouse floor, and as the doors slide shut, I study their reflections in the mirrored walls.

And suddenly, I can’t hold it in anymore.

My hand shoots out before I can talk myself out of it, yanking the emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to a halt with a grinding sound, leaving us hanging somewhere near the top of the building.

“Vicious?” Atlas’s voice is sharp with concern. “Are you okay?”

“I love you.” The words spill out before I can swallow them back down. “All three of you.”

The elevator goes completely silent. Three pairs of eyes lock on to me—Atlas’s wide with surprise, Killian’s intense and unblinking, Nico’s dark with something that makes my pulse spike. The only sound is the soft hum of the suspended elevator and my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

The silence stretches for what feels like forever even though it’s probably only been a few seconds. I fight the urge to look away or take the words back, but I’ve never been one to back down, and I’m not starting now.

Finally, Nico offers a slow, sinful grin. “About damn time you admitted it,” he growls, and his tone is pure heat. Pure sex.

Before I can react, Nico yanks me into his arms and crushes his mouth against mine. The kiss is fierce and possessive, taking my breath away and making my knees weak. He grabs my hips, pulling me even tighter against him.

When he finally releases me, Atlas spins me around, cupping my face between his big palms. His kiss is gentler but no less intense, and filled with all the emotion we’ve been dancing around for too fucking long.

Killian doesn’t even wait for Atlas to finish.

He grabs my arm and tugs me away, claiming my mouth with a growl that vibrates through my whole body.

His kiss is just like everything else about him—quiet and strong and so damn intense that I’d already be melting into a puddle of need on the floor if he wasn’t holding me up against his broad, muscular chest.