Page 276 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

He’s gone, and I have no idea how to feel about it.

“Nico?” Quinn’s voice breaks through the fog. “What’s wrong?”

I turn to look at her, and see Atlas and Killian also watching me with concern.

“My father died.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, moving to sit on my lap and wrap her arms around my shoulders. I circle my arms around her waist automatically, and bury my face in the crook of her neck.

“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused. “You never even met him. And it’s not like he was much of a father.”

“I’m sorry because you lost your family,” she says simply.

Something fills my chest at her words—not grief, but a sudden, sharp clarity that hits me like a punch to the gut. I pull back, looking up at her.

“No,” I shake my head. “I didn’t lose my family.”

Her brow furrows in confusion.

“My family is in this room,” I tell her, looking from her pretty face to Atlas and Killian. “It’s you. It’s them. You three are my family. The only family I’ve had that’s ever mattered.” I tighten my grip on her waist. “And I’m not going to lose a single one of you.”

She searches my face for a moment, then leans down to press her lips to mine in a soft kiss.

When she pulls back, there’s a strange look on her face—determined, almost solemn.

“Get up,” she says suddenly, sliding off my lap. “All of you.”

We exchange confused glances but do as she asks, standing in a loose circle in the middle of the kitchen.

Quinn takes a deep breath, then reaches out to take my hands in hers as she looks up at me.

“I, Quinn Kent, take you, Nico Morelli, to be my husband,” she begins with a steadiness and certainty in her voice that makes me start to smile in spite of the news I’ve just heard.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

The vows are similar to the ones we spoke at our first wedding. But this time, there’s no audience. No ceremony. Just raw truth between us.

She turns to Atlas next, taking his hands. “I, Quinn Kent, take you, Atlas Demaro, to be my husband,” she repeats, then does the same with Killian.

“What are you doing?” Atlas asks when she finishes. There’s an uncertainty in his voice, like he can’t quite wrap his head around what he’s just been a part of.

“Marrying all three of you,” she says simply. “Maybe not on paper, but who the fuck cares about paper? I want to be your wife. And I want all three of you to be my husbands.”

A full smile breaks out across my face now, and a surge of love rises in my chest. Without hesitating, I take her hands again.

“I, Nico Morelli, take you, Quinn Kent, to be my wife,” I say, the words feeling right and real in a way they didn’t the last time we both spoke them.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

Atlas and Killian follow, each taking their turn to speak their vows to her. Atlas’s voice is gruff with emotion, and even Killian’s usual expressionless stare cracks a little as he pledges himself to her.

When the last word is spoken, Quinn looks at each of us in turn, her eyes bright with emotion.

“Kiss your wife,” she says with a small smile.

I’m the first to reach for her, cupping her face in my hands as I press my lips to hers. The kiss is gentle but deep, and Atlas takes my place when I pull back, then Killian.

She was right. We don’t need a piece of paper to be married. We just need the four of us, bound together by choice and love and blood.

“I wish I had my tattoo equipment here,” she says, looking around the sparse kitchen. Her eyes land on a knife on the counter, and she reaches for it. “But this will do.” She holds up the blade. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” we answer in unison without a second of hesitation.

“Take off your shirts,” she says.

Again, there’s no hesitation as we shrug out of our shirts and stand still while she examines the circular marks on our chests—the ones she gave each of us, binding us to her.

She approaches me first. “This might hurt a bit,” she warns, but there’s a glint in her eye that tells me she knows I won’t mind.

The tip of the blade presses against my skin, just beside the circle that already marks me as hers. The sharp sting makes me hiss through my teeth, but I don’t move away. I watch as she carves a small, simple design—a line that curves to meet the circle, forming something new.

When she’s done with me, she moves to Atlas, then Killian, adding the same mark to each of us. The pain is nothing—welcome, even, because it’s from her hand.

“There,” she says, stepping back to admire her work. Blood beads along the fresh marks, trickling down our chests in thin red lines. “Now you’re all officially mine.”

“And you’re ours,” I say, reaching out to wipe a smear of my blood from her fingers.

“You can’t mark me yet, though,” she says, frowning. “Not until I’m free from Malcolm. So you each owe me one.”

I pull her against me, not caring about the blood smearing between us. I kiss her hard, letting every ounce of what I feel for her bleed into it.

“I love you,” I tell her when we break apart, even though the words don’t feel adequate to describe the way I feel inside. “More than I’ve ever loved anything in this fucked-up world. More than I thought I was capable of loving. You’re everything, mia cara. Everything.”

“You’re the heart I never thought I had,” Killian says quietly, his hand finding hers.

“You’re home,” Atlas adds, his voice rough with emotion. “The only home I’ve ever really known.”

Quinn looks at each of us and smiles again. “The four of us,” she says, reaching out so we’re all connected, a tangle of hands and blood and promises. “This is forever. No matter what happens with Malcolm, no matter what comes after, this is unbreakable.”

In this moment, my family feels complete. Not the family I was born into, but the one I chose. The one that chose me back.