Page 256 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

KILLIAN

The sound of weak knocking at the door has me reaching for my gun automatically. Very few people know we’re here, and none of those people should be stopping by for a fucking visit without a heads-up first.

I move silently to the door, keeping to the wall with my gun held low but ready. Through the peephole, all I can make out is a hunched figure.

It could be a trap. Hell, it could be almost anything on this side of town.

When I crack the door open, my breath catches in my throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ, siren.”

Quinn is crumpled against the doorframe, trembling like she’s been dropped in ice water. Her eyes are wide and unfocused, and her breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

I holster my gun and throw the door open, scooping her into my arms before she completely collapses. She’s one of the strongest, most badass people I know, but she weighs next to nothing in my arms.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She clings to me, digging her fingers into my shoulders with the kind of desperation that makes me want to go on a fucking rampage until I’ve fixed whatever is wrong in her world.

That rampage will have to wait though. Her whole body is shaking against mine, and when she whispers my name, she sounds way too far away.

I’ve seen this before, when the memories of what those fuckers did to her claw their way back to the surface. I don’t know what triggered it this time, but I know something that might help.

“You’re here with me,” I tell her, kicking the door shut behind us and carrying her into the house. “You’re with us. You’re not there anymore.”

Her teeth are chattering, and her skin is cold and clammy under my hands. Her pulse is beating too fast against my chest as I hold her tighter, trying to warm her with my body heat. The tremors running through her feel violent enough to shake her apart.

“Breathe,” I say. “Just focus on breathing.”

But she can’t. Her body is locked in fight-or-flight, and right now, she can’t do either.

Atlas and Nico appear from the kitchen, their expressions turning from confused to concerned in an instant when they see Quinn in my arms.

“What the fuck happened?” Atlas asks, moving toward us with his hands already reaching out.

“A panic attack. A bad one,” I say, already heading for the bathroom. “Or PTSD. I don’t know what set it off.”

“Fuck.” Nico is following close behind. “There’s no telling what caused it this time, with all the shit she’s been going through.”

“We can ask her later,” I say. “Right now we need to get her warm. She’s fucking freezing.”

I carry her into the bathroom, where I pass her gently to my brothers. They take her weight carefully, supporting her body between the two of them as she continues to shake.

“Strip her down.” I’m already pulling my own shirt over my head. “But be careful not to make any sudden movements.”

While I get rid of my clothes, Nico and Atlas work on Quinn’s, whispering soft reassurances to her as they go.

“We’re just getting these clothes off you, mia cara,” Nico says, easing her jeans down.

Atlas takes over with her shirt, keeping each movement slow and methodical. “You’re safe, vicious. We’re right here with you.”

I can see that their hands are gentle as they undress her, but there’s nothing even remotely sexual about this moment. Right now, we’re just three men trying to help the woman we love through something terrible.

I reach into the shower and crank the hot water, adjusting it until it’s warm but not scalding. Steam begins to fill the small bathroom as I turn back to Quinn.

She’s standing between Nico and Atlas now, naked and vulnerable, her arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold her insides together. Her eyes are still distant, looking at something we can’t see.

“Give her to me,” I say, and they help guide her into my arms.

I lift her and step into the shower, positioning us so that the spray hits just below her shoulders.

I want to keep her head and face dry for now, mainly so she can see everything clearly once she starts to come back to us.

Her legs wrap around my waist almost instinctively, and her arms are around my neck.

Fuck, she’s clinging to me like I’m the only solid thing in her world.

I hold her tight against my chest, making sure she’s stable and supported as the water runs in rivulets down our bodies.

“Feel me breathing,” I tell her, making each breath deliberate and deep. “In… and out. Like this. Match me.”

She presses her face into the crook of my neck, and I can feel her wet lashes fluttering against my skin. Her chest slowly expands against mine as she pulls in a ragged breath, then releases it.

“That’s it,” I encourage her. “Again. In… and out.”

We stand there under the spray, breathing together. The tremors start to ease, until they’re replaced by smaller, less frequent shudders. Her death grip on me loosens slightly, but she doesn’t let go.

Nico and Atlas hover just outside the shower, watching every move.

“What happened, vicious?” Atlas asks, gentle but insistent. “How can we help?”

She shakes her head against my shoulder but doesn’t answer.

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” I tell her, running a soothing hand down her back. “Just stay with us. Stay present.”

“He—” she starts, but her voice breaks. She’s still strung out from the panic attack, and her mind is obviously scattered in too many directions to form the words she needs.

“Later,” I say. “Tell us later.”

She’s starting to calm down now, and her breathing is becoming steadier even though her body still trembles against mine occasionally. I’m so focused on keeping her warm and calm while I watch for signs of another panic spiral, that I miss what Nico spots immediately.

“Who the fuck did this to you?” There’s enough of an edge in his voice to get her attention, but she just looks at him with exhausted eyes and doesn’t answer.

I follow his gaze and see what I should have noticed right away—dark bruises forming on her jaw, angry red marks shaped like fingerprints. Someone grabbed her face hard enough to leave their signature behind. My stomach clenches as I tilt her chin up gently to get a better look.

“That son of a bitch,” I growl, not needing confirmation. There’s only one person in her life right now who is capable of doing some shit like that, and the evidence is right there in purple and blue.

Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out the sound of the shower. I count my own breaths, forcing myself to stay calm for her sake, even as I imagine ripping Malcolm’s fingers off one by one.

“There’s more,” Atlas says quietly, pointing to her wrists where similar bruises are forming.

Fucking Christ. I’ve been so focused on getting her through the panic attack that I missed the signs written all over her body. Some protector I am. I silently catalog each mark, each bruise—my own private ledger of debts that will be paid in blood.

“Did he touch you anywhere else?” I ask.

Quinn shakes her head, then stops, and I can see the flash of uncertainty in her eyes. Whatever happened, she’s not ready to put it into words. The panic attack has left her drained, and her defenses have been stripped away. Pushing her for answers now will only make things worse.

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” I tell her, brushing wet strands of hair away from her face. “Not until you’re ready.”

Relief flickers across her features, but I’m not letting this go entirely.

“But you will tell us,” I add. “When you’re back to yourself. We need to know exactly what that fucker did.”

She nods against my chest, and that’s enough for now.

Nico reaches past the shower curtain to hand me the soap. His knuckles are white, and his jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle twitching. He’s already plotting Malcolm’s death— just like we all are—but right now Quinn needs us to be here with her, calm and present.

“Let me wash you,” I say quietly.

She nods again, leaning back slightly in my arms to give me some room to move.

I soap up my hands and run them over her shoulders and back, washing away the sweat and fear, along with whatever traces of Malcolm might still be lingering.

I’m careful around the bruises even though the rage hasn’t stopped building inside me.

“What do you need right now?” I ask her once I’ve rinsed the soap from her skin. “Anything. Just name it.”

Her eyes finally meet mine fully, and I’m thankful that the panic has receded enough for me to see her—the real her—looking back at me. Her fingers reach up to trace my jawline, and that simple touch is all it takes to send an electric jolt through my body.

“Kiss me,” she whispers. They’re the first clear, coherent words she’s spoken since she got here.

She never has to ask for that. Never.

Her lips are the only ones that have ever touched mine. She’s the only woman who has broken through the emptiness inside me. She’s the only one I’ll ever want.

I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, checking one more time that she’s really present, and really asking for this. When she leans into my touch, I know she is.

I claim her mouth with mine, hard and deep, pouring everything I can’t say into this moment. I kiss her like I’m trying to erase every shitty second she’s spent away from us, every second that bastard had his hands on her.

She responds immediately, her lips parting under mine as her fingers move through my wet hair. She kisses me back with the same desperate intensity, and I feel something inside her finally let go.

I angle my head, taking the kiss deeper as my hands slide down her back to pull her tighter against my body.

“You need him to fuck you, don’t you?” Nico asks her, and we’re all rewarded with one of her needy, throaty moans. The sound goes straight to my cock, and I know she really does need this even more than I do.

“Yeah,” Atlas adds, his eyes fixed on her body. “Grind against his cock, vicious. Show him how badly you want it.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Her hips rock forward, rubbing her pussy against the length of my cock as her nails dig into my shoulders.

I groan against her lips, loving that she’s already so slick and wet as she teases the tip of my cock.

“Fuck me,” she says, her words coming out breathless and desperate. “Please, Killian.”

That’s all I need to hear.

I grab her ass with both hands and lift her up so I can slide right into her tight, eager pussy. Then I let her drop slowly onto my cock, burying myself balls-deep inside her.