Page 223 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

ATLAS

Blood explodes from Owen’s nose as Quinn’s forehead connects with devastating precision.

The crack of bone is so sharp I can almost feel it in my own skull.

He staggers back, his eyes wide with shock as blood streams down his face and drips onto his shirt.

That’s my vicious, strong-as-hell, smart-as-fuck woman—living up to her nickname even when she’s half-dead and chained to a fucking wall.

The room freezes for half a second that seems to stretch out into minutes. Everyone is so damned surprised to see this bleeding woman they thought was already beaten still fighting back.

Hell, I’m surprised—and I know what she’s capable of doing when she’s backed into a corner. I’ve been on the receiving end of that particular brand of viciousness more than once.

Malcolm’s smug expression slips for just a second, his cold eyes widening a fraction before narrowing dangerously.

Elliot’s mouth hangs open like the fucking idiot he is, while Imogen takes a sharp step back.

Rafael actually lets out an appreciative whistle through his teeth.

Even Cassandra’s perfectly manicured hand flies to her throat in a flash of unscripted, unguarded surprise.

The guards are just as stunned, their strict training momentarily forgotten in the face of this unexpected show of pure, badass defiance. The one holding me shifts his weight, distracted by the spectacle of Owen stumbling backward, cursing through the blood pouring down his chin.

One heartbeat. That’s all I need.

My body moves on pure instinct, the same way it always does when Quinn is in danger. None of us has the luxury of weighing the odds or considering how many guns are trained on us.

It doesn’t take a fucking genius to know we’re fucked five ways from Sunday with one wrong move. But if I’m being completely honest?

Those are my kind of odds.

And now it’s time for me to do the same damn thing I’ve done since I started falling for her—putting myself between her and whatever is trying to hurt her. Even if it gets me killed.

I throw myself sideways, ducking my head away from the barrel pressed against my temple.

The guard squeezes the trigger, and the gunshot explodes next to my ear, leaving behind a high-pitched whine that drowns out everything else.

But I’m already moving, my muscles remembering countless fights as I pivot sharply on my knees.

My hands find the guard’s weapon—still in his grip—and I wrench it toward the guard holding Killian.

The poor bastard never sees it coming. He’s too focused on controlling the restless beast in front of him. I don’t hesitate. One quick squeeze of the trigger, and Killian’s guard buckles, his gun clattering to the floor as his body follows.

Killian moves like we’ve been rehearsing this exact moment for days, snatching up the dead guard’s weapon before the body even hits the ground.

He turns with the kind of grace and agility that’s fucking jaw-dropping for someone his size, and puts a bullet through the skull of the guard holding Nico.

My brother might be a crazy motherfucker, but that shot was a thing of beauty—the cleanest, most precise kill I’ve ever seen—and I would expect nothing less from our resident psychopath.

The guard I’m wrestling with tries to wrestle his gun back, but he’s just a half-second behind all the action. Nico is already moving, already taking advantage of his unexpected freedom. One clean shot, and the pressure on the weapon suddenly releases as my guard’s body goes slack.

Three guards down in the span of a few heartbeats. The three of us moving like we’ve rehearsed this a thousand times, which I guess we have. Brothers in arms, watching each other’s backs just like we always do.

“Kill them now!” Malcolm’s commanding voice cuts through the chaos. He’s a slick son of a bitch, but his composure is finally cracking. “Every last one of them!”

The room erupts in gunfire as more guards pour in. Nico takes cover behind the conference table, returning fire with lethal precision while Killian does what he does best and becomes pure fucking violence, each shot finding its mark with terrifying accuracy.

I spin toward Quinn. She’s still chained to that goddamn wall, with blood soaking her shirt.

My hands are steady as I aim for the bolts securing her chains, focusing through the sound of bullets splintering wood behind me.

The first shot rings out and the bolt explodes, freeing her right arm.

Another shot and her left arm drops. Two more quick shots at her feet, and the chains fall away completely.

She stumbles forward, but somehow stays standing because she’s a fighter. A goddamn warrior.

There’s no time to think about the chaos around us. I run straight for her, determined to get her out of here even if it means shielding her with my own body.

“Go!” I grab her arm, steadying her as bullets tear into the wall where she was hanging just seconds ago. “Fucking go!”

The main door is blocked by a wall of guards, but there’s Malcolm’s private entrance on the far side, and that’s our only shot at getting out of this shitshow alive.

We sprint for it, ducking and weaving as gunfire rains around us.

Nico appears on Quinn’s other side, helping her stay upright while Killian provides cover fire.

The sound of bullets ricocheting off concrete is torture to my still-ringing ears, but there’s no time for a pity party right now. We just have to keep moving forward, even as dust and debris start to cloud my vision.

Malcolm’s enraged shouts follow us, but I can’t afford to look back at the small army that’s on our asses. All that matters is getting Quinn through that door.

We hit the door hard, the heavy wood splintering as we wrench it open. The corridor beyond is dimly lit, but it’s our only chance. We rush through the doorway with Quinn stumbling between us.

“I’ve got you, vicious,” I say, practically lifting her off her feet just to make sure she stays in front of me. “We’re not gonna let you fall.”

My left ear is still fucked from that close-range shot earlier, making my own voice sound like I’m shouting into a void.

A guard lunges through the gap as we try to slam the door shut behind us, wedging himself halfway through.

But Killian is there in an instant, and the door becomes a weapon in his hands.

He slams it with brutal, deadly force, and there’s a sickening crunch as it connects with the guard’s skull.

The man’s body goes limp instantly, and Killian yanks him the rest of the way through in the blink of an eye, letting the door finally slam closed behind us.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Nico’s voice sounds muffled to me, like he’s speaking through water, but the urgency in his tone comes through clear enough.

Killian doesn’t answer. He never does when he’s focused like this.

Instead, he drags the guard’s body into position, wedging it against the door like some kind of sickening doorstop.

Blood spreads across the concrete floor as he positions the corpse just right, and suddenly I get it.

The dead weight will buy us a few more precious seconds when the others try to follow.

The sound of gunfire and shouting from the other side is followed by the unmistakable thud as the guards throw themselves against the heavy door one after another. The dead body holds though. Killian has bought us the time we need, just like the crazy bastard planned.

We turn and sprint down the corridor, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

Pipes snake across the ceiling, hissing with steam that makes the air thick and damp as we run farther into the bowels of the spa above us.

The occasional grate beneath our feet clangs as we run, the sound seeming to travel forever down this creepy fucking tunnel.

“This has to lead to an exit at some point,” Nico pants. “Or a stairwell or fucking something.”

He’s helping me support Quinn as she stumbles between us. Blood is still seeping through her shirt, and it’s fucking terrifying to think about how much she’s lost already.

We round the corner at full speed, only to slam to a halt. There’s a door at the end of the corridor, heavy and metal and impossible to kick in. As if to drive home the point that we’re not getting past this point, this one also has an electronic keypad next to it.

“This has to be Malcolm’s private office,” Nico snarls, looking around the corridor like a caged animal.

“Fuck!” I slam my palm against the door. Even with my fucked up ear, I can hear the sounds of shouting and running behind us, and they’re getting closer with every second that ticks by. “There’s nowhere to go. We’re fucking trapped.”

“There has to be another way.” Killian’s voice is tight with barely controlled rage. “We didn’t get this far just to die in a fucking hallway.”

Quinn tries to straighten up between us, but she’s losing too much blood. “You should leave me,” she grits out. “I’ll slow you down.”

“Don’t fucking say that.” The words tear from my throat before I can stop them. “We’re not leaving you.”

“We’re not going anywhere, siren. We’re all stuck here together.” Killian jerks his head toward the hallway behind us. “They’ll be here in less than a minute, and I doubt they’ll take the time to go through their little fucking ceremony again.”

I’m pretty sure his estimate of a minute is generous, since the shouting voices and pounding footsteps are closer than ever.

“After everything…” Quinn groans, then winces. “After that insane escape… this is how it ends?”

“No.” I grip her tighter, even as my mind races uselessly. “This isn’t fucking happening. Not like this.”

My eyes catch on one of the grates in the floor—the same ones we’ve been running over.

“Please fucking work,” I mutter, dropping to my knees and wrapping my fingers around the metal. It’s heavy as fuck, but adrenaline gives me the strength to wrench it up an inch before Killian and Nico help with the rest.

The stench that rises up makes my eyes water, but right now that sewer smells like fucking freedom.

Nico drops down first. “Let’s fucking go!” he shouts, already reaching for Quinn.

She grits her teeth against the pain as I help lower her through the opening. I’m trying to be gentle even though there’s no time for it. Nico catches her from below, steadying her as she lands in knee-deep water.

Killian drops through next and ducks out of the way, motioning for me to follow. “Come on, Atlas—move your ass!”

I’m halfway through the opening when the first shots ring out. Bullets spark off the metal grate above my head and ping against the stone walls. One comes so close I swear I can feel it part my hair before I let myself drop.

I land hard in the filthy water, splashing backwards as more bullets fire through the opening we just escaped through. But we’re already moving, helping Quinn through the darkness and getting the fuck out of their line of fire.