Page 209 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

I crouch down beside him and run my blade along his cheek. Just enough pressure to raise a thin line of blood. “You’re lucky we need you breathing,” I tell him. “But your time will run out soon.”

Standing, I wipe my blade clean on his shirt. Time to deliver this rat to Quinn. Then the real fun begins.

I zip-tie his wrists behind his back, pulling them tight enough to bite into his skin.

Quinn’s car is parked in the shadows at the end of the alley.

As I drag Emmett’s dead weight across the pavement, I think about how she trusted me with her car.

With this mission. With everything. It’s the kind of trust I never thought I’d have from anyone aside from Nico and Atlas.

Blood from Emmett’s broken nose leaves a trail behind us. Good. Let him bleed. Let him hurt. It’s nothing compared to what he deserves for betraying her.

I throw him in the trunk like the garbage he is. His head thunks against the metal side, and a small groan escapes his lips. He’s still mostly unconscious though.

The trunk slams shut and I slide in behind the steering wheel. My knuckles are bruised and bloody, but I can’t help smiling as I lean forward and turn up the radio. This night is turning out even better than I imagined.

Less than twenty minutes later, the luxury high-rise where we’re staying looms ahead like a billion dollar fortress. There’s no doorman at this hour. No witnesses. Just empty halls and the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

Emmett starts stirring as I haul him over my shoulder. His breath hitches as consciousness creeps back in. Bad fucking timing for him.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding, and I step inside, adjusting his weight. The mirrored walls reflect us back at ourselves—predator and prey. His eyes flutter open just as the doors close.

Thank fuck for these mirrors, because now I get to see the look of sheer panic flooding his ugly face when he realizes where he is and who has him. His legs start thrashing, trying to break free.

Amateur move.

“Let go of me, you son of a?—”

I slam him against the elevator wall, knocking the air out of him as I wrap a hand around his throat. I like the way his eyes bulge as I squeeze, so I squeeze a little tighter. “Keep fighting,” I whisper. “Give me half a fucking reason.”

The look in his eyes says he believes me. Good. He should.

I haven’t taken my hand off his throat, and I can feel his struggles get weaker as his consciousness starts to fade again.

Black spots are probably dancing in his vision right about now.

I can see the moment his brain shuts everything down in a last-ditch effort to survive, and he goes limp against the mirrored wall.

I hold the pressure a few seconds longer, just because I can, before letting him slump to the floor.

The elevator climbs higher. Twenty floors to go. I look down at Emmett’s pathetic form, remembering how he used to strut around like he was something. Like he deserved Quinn.

“You should’ve stayed in your lane,” I tell him as he wheezes. “You’re about to learn what happens to bitches and snitches.”

The elevator dings again, and it’s time to deliver my present to Quinn. I can’t wait to watch her face light up when she sees I’ve brought her exactly what she’s been wishing for.

Because that’s what monsters like me do for the ones we love. We hunt. We kill. We provide.

Quinn’s head snaps up the moment I drag Emmett through the door. The relief in her eyes hits me like a punch to the gut. Like everything else about her, it makes me want to destroy anyone who’s ever hurt her.

Atlas and Nico move immediately to help, but I catch the way Quinn’s shoulders relax. Knowing I did that for her—that I was the one who brought her this gift wrapped in zip ties and bruises—it feeds something primal inside me.

“I got you a present,” I tell her, dumping Emmett onto the floor. He groans and wriggles around like a worm on a hook, but he’s still only half-conscious and his movements are sluggish.

Quinn steps closer, and I can see the predator in her too.

The way her eyes go cold and sharp as she looks down at the man who betrayed her.

She doesn’t realize it, but she’s so fucking beautiful like this that it takes all my self-control not to throw her over my shoulder and walk right the fuck back out of here.

My hands itch to touch her, to pull her against me and taste the sweetness of her mouth. But there’s work to be done first. There’s pain to be inflicted and information to be extracted, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss all the fun.

“Doesn’t look like he gave you too much trouble,” Quinn says, glancing over at me before fixing her deadly stare on him again.

“Not too much.” I shrug. “I was kind of hoping he’d be more of a challenge, if I’m being honest. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to really fuck someone up the way they deserve.”

Atlas shoots me a grin and grabs Emmett’s shoulders while Nico gets his legs. We work together like we always have, three parts of the same machine moving in sync as we drag him to the back room we prepped earlier.

The chair is already waiting. It’s made of steel and sturdy as hell, but we’ve also bolted it to the floor, just in case.

We put the rope around his chest first, pinning his upper body to the chair before we wrap even more around his legs.

Nico checks the zip ties on his wrists, making sure they’re still cutting off circulation.

Good. Maybe I’ll get to cut this fucker’s hands off by the time we’re finished with him .

My brothers know what they’re doing. All three of us have secured plenty of bodies before an interrogation. Emmett won’t be going anywhere, no matter how badly he’ll want to.

Quinn watches from the doorway as we work. She doesn’t take her eyes off Emmett.

I step back to admire our handiwork. Emmett’s head lolls forward, but it’s time to wake him up and start the real fun.

My hand cracks across his face. Once. Twice. His eyes flutter open, and I can see panic flare in their depths as he realizes who I have with me and what’s about to happen.

A hoarse scream gurgles up his throat as he fully comes to. The fear pouring off of him is intoxicating, like prey that knows it’s fucked. I press my blade against his throat, just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

“You keep screaming like that,” I tell him, “and I start removing pieces.”

His mouth snaps shut, his eyes going wide. Quinn steps closer, and I can feel her presence at my back. She’s the only thing keeping the monster inside me from ripping Emmett apart right now.

I glance over my shoulder at her, remembering how it felt when she was our captive. How even then, I couldn’t bring myself to truly hurt her.

“Remember when we had you?” I ask her, keeping the blade steady against Emmett’s throat. “Remember how I held back?”

She nods, her steady eyes burning into mine. She’s understanding exactly what I’m telling her.

“That won’t be a problem with him.” I almost catch myself smiling just thinking about what I might do to this son of a bitch. “Nothing would give me more pleasure than slitting his throat right now. I’d really love to watch him bleed out slowly while he realizes exactly who he fucked with.”

Emmett whimpers quietly. Tears stream down his face, mixing with blood and snot. Pathetic. This is the shit stain who thought he deserved Quinn?

My blade presses deeper, drawing more blood. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because we need information. So you’d better start praying to whatever god you believe in that you have something useful to tell us.”

The look in his eyes says he gets it. He knows exactly how fucked he is.

Good. Let him be afraid.

Because once he leads us to Ambrose, I’m going to take him apart piece by piece and make him suffer for every moment of pain he caused Quinn. Then I’ll do it all over again for every scream we heard from Atlas.

And I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of it.