Page 213 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

“I know, I know,” Emmett cuts him off. “I won’t try anything. I’d rather have a chance at living through this.”

A few minutes later and I’m pulling my tactical pants on when Atlas appears in the bedroom doorway. There’s a softness in his eyes that I’m not expecting, especially under the current circumstances.

“I got you something,” he says, stepping into the room.

I pause, one boot half-laced. “What?”

He holds out several glossy volumes, and my heart damn near stops when I recognize the distinctive artwork on the covers. The Twilight City Chronicles.

“I figured you needed new copies after the fire,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “I still haven’t written any fanfic for you yet though.”

My throat gets tight. It’s such a small thing, but it hits me right in the chest—the fact that he remembered, that he thought to replace them when everything else I owned went up in flames.

I rise onto my toes and kiss him hard, trying to pour everything I’m feeling into it. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and for a moment I forget about Ambrose and Emmett and everything else except this man who knows exactly how to touch my heart.

“It’s time to get moving.” Nico’s voice breaks the moment as he appears in the doorway.

Reality crashes back in, and I feel the weight of what we’re about to do settle over my shoulders. I nod and follow them out into the living room.

We’re almost ready to go, but my men are nothing if not thorough. Especially where I’m concerned.

“Let me check those bindings one more time,” Killian says, running his hands over the ropes at my wrists. His touch lingers longer than necessary. “Are you sure you can get out of them fast enough?”

“I’ve got it,” I tell him, but let him fuss anyway. I know this is killing him—the idea of me walking into danger without him right beside me. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t help it,” he mutters. “Letting you go anywhere with this bastard…”

“We’re not letting her do anything,” Atlas growls from where he’s checking his weapons. “We don’t have a fucking choice. This is the only way to draw that son of a bitch out.”

Nico hands me a small gun. One that’ll be easy to hide. “Remember, wait for the right moment. Don’t try to take the shot unless you’re sure you can make it.”

“I know how to handle myself,” I remind them, but there’s no heat in my voice. These men have earned the right to worry about me.

Killian grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “If we lose you, we lose everything. You understand that, right?”

The raw emotion in his voice hits me hard. “Hey,” I say softly. “You’re not losing me. Not tonight, not ever.”

“Damn right we’re not,” Atlas says, coming over to kiss me hard. When he pulls back, his whole expression is stormy. “We’ve been through too fucking much for it to end like this.”

“Nothing is gonna happen,” I say for the hundredth time. Sometimes it’s still good to hear those words though.

Nico checks his watch. “It’s time to move. Quinn, you remember the route?”

“Yeah. And I remember to loop around a few times to make sure we’re not being followed before we head to the meeting spot.”

“Good girl,” he says, and something in me warms at the praise despite the tension of the moment.

We head out, making our way across Detroit to where Emmett’s car is parked. We’ll need him to be driving his own vehicle if we want to sell the lie that I’m his captive.

My men all dismount their bikes as I park my car, and then we haul Emmett out of my trunk. The night air is cool on my skin, and somewhere in the distance, I hear a siren wailing. It seems fitting somehow.

“I love you,” I tell them quietly. “All of you.”

They each nod solemnly, echoing the words back to me before Killian shoves Emmett roughly into the driver’s seat of his car. Then I slide into the passenger seat next to my would-be captor.

“Let’s go,” I tell Emmett, training the gun on him where it’s hidden from view. “It’s time for you to give the performance of a lifetime.”

We head out into the dark streets, leaving my men behind as they mount their bikes again.

It feels wrong, being separated from them, but I know it’s necessary.

Looking in the side mirror, I barely catch a glimpse of their bikes behind us before they hang back, keeping their distance like we planned.

“Why are you doing this?” Emmett asks after we’ve been driving for a few minutes. “Do you really think you’re gonna kill him?”

“Shut up and drive.”

“He’s got resources you don’t even know about. Connections?—”

I press the gun into his ribs. “I said shut up. You lost the right to worry about me when you sold me out.”

“I didn’t want to,” he says, and something in his voice makes me want to punch him. “But he made me an offer I didn’t think I could pass up.”

“An offer?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “A little cash and a safe place to lay your head for a while? How did that work out for you?”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You’re a fucking coward who would sell out anyone to save his own skin.” I dig the gun in deeper. “Now focus on driving. And remember to loop around like we discussed. I don’t want anyone following us.”

He falls silent, taking us through the quiet streets. It’s just as well that most of Detroit seems to be asleep, because I don’t think my jittery fucking nerves could take a lot of traffic right now.

“You really love them?” he asks suddenly. “Those three psychos?”

“More than anything,” I tell him, wanting the words to hurt. “They’d die for me. Kill for me. What would you do, Emmett? Besides stab me in the back?”

He doesn’t answer, but his hands tighten on the wheel. Good. Let him feel it. Maybe he’s finally starting to understand exactly what he lost when he betrayed me.

The streets get darker as we head closer to the river. There are fewer streetlights here, and more abandoned buildings. It’s a good spot for a secret meeting. Or a trap.

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat, but I keep the gun steady on Emmett.

“Slow down,” I tell him. “There’s no reason to get there early.”

He eases off the gas. “You really think this is gonna work?”

“What I think is that you need to shut your fucking mouth before I put a bullet in you ahead of schedule.”

“I’m just saying?—”

“You’re just saying shit to get in my head,” I snap. “I fucking know how you operate, Emmett. You try to make me doubt myself, time and time again. That’s always been your play, hasn’t it? Making little comments, trying to undermine me?”

He falls silent again, but I can practically hear him thinking. After a minute, he tries a different angle. “Your dad wouldn’t want this for you.”

White hot rage floods through me. “Don’t you dare talk about my father.”

“He wanted better for you than being some biker’s whore?—”

I slam the gun against his temple, hard enough to make him swerve. “One more word about my father and I’ll shoot you right here. Fuck the plan.”

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, straightening the wheel. “You’re as fucking crazy as they are.”

“Consider it one more reason to keep your lying mouth shut while you’re driving.”

We pass the spot where my men will be waiting, hidden in the shadows. My chest aches, wanting them closer, but I know this has to play out exactly right or Ambrose will bolt. Violently.

The river comes into view, and I know we’re almost there. It’s almost time to end this, one way or another.

“Turn here,” I tell him, recognizing the route to the meeting spot. “And Emmett? When this is over, if you’re still breathing, you’d better run far and fast. Because my men won’t forget what you did, and neither will I.”

We pull into the meeting spot, an old boat launch area surrounded by abandoned warehouses. The whole area is sketchy as hell, and I can easily imagine Emmett meeting up with Ambrose here to sell me out.

The bindings around my wrists are loose enough that I can slip free quickly, but tight enough to look real. My gun is hidden but ready. Everything is set. So why does my stomach feel like it’s trying to crawl up my throat?

“Kill the engine,” I tell Emmett. “But leave the keys in.”

He does it, his hands shaking slightly on the wheel. “How long do we wait?”

“Until he shows.” I scan the shadows around us, looking for any sign of movement. “And remember—if you try to warn him, try anything at all, and you die first.”

“You keep saying that like I need reminding.”

“Because you do. You’re a survivor, like a fucking cockroach. You’re always looking for the angle that’ll keep your worthless ass alive longest.” I give him a cold smile. “But there’s no angle here that ends with you walking away if you cross me again.”

The minutes tick by so slowly it feels like time is moving backwards. Every sound makes my muscles tense—a bird flapping its wings, water lapping at the shore, distant traffic. My men are out there somewhere, but I can’t see them and I can’t hear their bikes.

A pair of headlights sweep across us, and my blood turns cold. This is it.

“I’m slumping down,” I hiss at Emmett. “You’d better fucking sell this.”

I let my head fall forward, keeping my eyes barely open through the curtain of my hair. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to spring.

The car pulls up beside us—some fancy black thing that was probably financed with Enigma blood. The engine cuts off, and I hear a door open and close.

Footsteps crunch on gravel, getting closer. My finger twitches on the trigger of my hidden gun.

“Well?” Ambrose’s voice carries through the night air. “Show me what you brought me.”

“She’s out cold,” Emmett calls back. “Just like I said.”

More footsteps. Ambrose is coming around to my side of the car. I keep my breathing slow and steady, fighting every instinct screaming at me to move and fight.

“You actually managed to keep her subdued,” Ambrose says, sounding impressed. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”

The door beside me creaks open and cold air rushes in, carrying the scent of Ambrose’s cologne—something expensive and sharp that makes my nose burn.

Just a few more seconds. I need him to get closer if I’m going to make this shot count.

“It’s sort of a shame, really,” Ambrose says, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “All that fire. All that potential. And look at her now.”

I can feel him leaning in, probably to grab me. My muscles tense, ready to strike.

“Get back!” Emmett’s voice cracks through the night. “It’s a trap!”