Page 211 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

Killian applies pressure to another pressure point and Emmett screams. But his story doesn’t change—he just gives us more disposable meeting spots and faces we already know about.

“He never—fuck!—never let anyone see where he actually operated from. He always had a different burner phone every time. A different car and a different crew picking me up.”

The raw desperation in his voice hits something in my gut. I’ve seen Emmett lie plenty of times before, but this isn’t it. This is pure animal terror, the kind that strips away all pretense.

“Ambrose always was a paranoid fuck,” Atlas mutters. “Even back when we worked with him. He never let anyone know his full operation. Hell, we didn’t even know his fucking name.”

I watch as Killian works Emmett over with clinical precision. But no matter what he does, the story stays consistent. Just more dead-end locations and mid-level thugs we already know about.

“He’s not lying.” Killian steps back, wiping his blade clean. “He doesn’t know shit about Ambrose’s actual operation.”

“We’re wasting our fucking time on this fucker,” Nico spits.

He’s right. We’ve squeezed everything useful out of Emmett, and it amounts to nothing. Just confirmation that Ambrose is as careful and paranoid as ever. This lead is ice cold.

I pace in front of Emmett’s chair, my fingers curling into fists.

All that work, all that planning to catch this rat, and we got nothing useful out of him.

The urge to slam my knuckles into his face burns through my arms. At least the pain would make me feel better about wasting my time on this worthless asshole.

“Fuck!” I slam my hand against the wall, the impact sending sharp sparks through my fingers.

But the burst of pain clears my head. My eyes snap back to Emmett’s trembling form, and something clicks into place as a dangerous idea unfolds in my mind.

If we can’t find Ambrose’s base? Fine. We’ll make him come to us.

A cold smile plays at my lips as I work through the details. Emmett thinks Ambrose is going to win? Let’s see how confident he feels when his perfect plan goes sideways.

“Quinn?” There’s a familiar concern in Atlas’s voice. He knows that look on my face.

I turn slowly, meeting each of their eyes. Killian’s posture shifts, his fingers tightening on his blade. Nico’s expression darkens as he reads the calculated violence in my smile. Atlas takes a half-step forward, torn between concern and anticipation.

They all recognize this moment—when the odds shift and the game changes. When the predator becomes prey.

“I know that look,” Killian says softly. “What are you thinking?”

My smile widens as I turn back to Emmett. His eyes go wide with fresh terror as he sees my expression.

“Oh god,” he whispers. “What are you going to do?”

“You want Ambrose to win so badly?” I lean down, getting right in Emmett’s face. “Let’s help him get what he wants. Let’s give him exactly what he’s been looking for—me.”

“What are you—” Atlas starts, but stops as understanding dawns on his face.

“Think about it. Ambrose wants me dead or under his control. He’s been hunting me for months, always staying hidden, always working through proxies.” My pulse quickens as the plan takes shape. “But what if his loyal informant suddenly had something too good to pass up?”

Killian’s eyes narrow as he starts to catch on. “You want to use the traitor as bait.”

“Better than that. I want to use him as a messenger. Let him tell Ambrose that he’s found a way to get to me. That he knows exactly where I’ll be, completely exposed.”

“Jesus,” Nico breathes. “You’re talking about setting yourself up as the target.”

“I’m talking about turning the hunter into prey.” The more I talk, the more possibilities unfold in my mind. “We control the location. We control the timing. We make Ambrose think he’s finally got his shot at taking me out.”

Emmett’s face goes pale as he realizes what I’m suggesting. “He’ll kill me if?—”

“He’ll kill you anyway, you stupid fuck.” I grab his chin. “But maybe, just maybe, if you play your part right, you might actually survive this.”

The tension in the room is fully palpable. I can feel it in the way Atlas’s shoulders bunch, in the absolute stillness that comes over Killian, and in the dangerous glint in Nico’s eyes.

“It’s risky as hell,” Atlas says quietly. “But it could work.”

“It will work.” I’ve never been more certain of anything. “Because Ambrose won’t be able to resist the chance to finally get his hands on me.”

“This is insane.” Atlas runs his hands through his hair. “You’re talking about using yourself as bait for a psychopath.”

“We’re not letting you do this,” Nico says, his jaw clenched. “There has to be another way.”

I slam my palm against the wall. “What other way? We’ve been chasing shadows for too long, and everyone in this room knows it. Every lead goes cold. Every trap comes up empty. And now we’ve got the Dark Lotus breathing down our necks too.”

“Then we deal with them first,” Killian argues. “We can’t fight a war on two fronts.”

“That’s exactly my point.” I face them all. “How long before Ambrose makes a deal with them? How can we ever be safe while we’re constantly playing defense? I’m done watching everything we built get torn apart piece by piece.”

Atlas steps closer. “Quinn?—”

“No.” I cut him off. “I won’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. We’ve already lost Enigma, the Princes, and our home. Good people have died just so Ambrose can send us a message. Next time, it could be one of us.”

“So we’re supposed to give him a clear shot at you?” Nico’s tone is hard. “That’s not a solution.”

“I’m not asking for permission.” My voice stays steady as steel. “Either help me set this up, or I’ll do it myself. But I’m done hiding.”

The silence that follows is one of the most uncomfortable things I’ve felt in a long time. They exchange looks—concern, anger, fear—but I don’t back down.

“He’ll bring an army,” Killian says quietly.

“Good. Then we’ll kill them all at once.”

Atlas grabs my arm. “This isn’t a game, vicious. If this goes wrong?—”

“Then I’ll die on my feet instead of waiting for him to pick us off one by one.” I meet his eyes. “I won’t live like this anymore. I can’t. We can’t.”

I turn back to Emmett and take a few more seconds to savor the look of fear in his eyes. His unbroken fingers twitch against the chair’s arms, knuckles white where they grip the metal.

“Looks like you’re finally going to earn your keep.” I lean down until we’re eye to eye. “You’re going to help me get to Ambrose.”

“Please,” he whispers. “He’ll kill me.”

“That’s not my problem. Your only concern right now is doing exactly what I tell you, exactly how I tell you to do it. Because if you don’t…” I straighten up and gesture to Killian. “You’ll wish for whatever death Ambrose might have given you.”

Behind me, I hear Atlas exhale sharply. But when I glance back, he gives me a tight nod. Nico’s jaw is clenched, but he nods too—ready to back my play. Killian’s eyes never leave Emmett, and his stillness is more threatening than any motion could be.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” I turn back to Emmett. “You’re going to contact Ambrose. Tell him you’ve found a way to get to me, and that you know exactly where I’ll be, and when I’ll be the most vulnerable.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t asking.” I grab a fistful of his hair and tighten my grip until he winces. “You’ll tell him exactly what I say, when I say it. You’ll set up the meeting exactly how I specify.”

Sweat rolls down his temple as he swallows hard. “What if he doesn’t believe me?”

“Then you’d better be very convincing.” I release his hair and straighten up. “Because your pathetic life depends on making this work.”