Page 297 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

EPILOGUE

QUINN

Six Months Later

I’m standing at the front counter of Blood and Ink, reviewing inventory numbers on a tablet when Cabby approaches, hat in hand.

“We’ve got confirmation on the shipment through Hendricks’ territory,” he says. “Tanner’s guys from Carnage met them at the drop point and report everything went smooth as silk. It’s a twenty percent increase over last month’s haul.”

I nod, swiping to update the figures. “Any problems with the border crossing?”

“None. Hudson says the new documents are holding up perfectly. The Carnage boys even had a run-in with a state trooper who didn’t look twice at the paperwork.”

“Good,” I say, feeling that familiar rush of satisfaction. Six months ago, we were cobbling together scraps of a broken empire. Now we’re running a well-oiled machine that spans three states. “Tell Hudson I want him at the meeting tomorrow. We’re going to expand farther north.”

“Will do,” Cabby says with a grin. “I gotta say, this partnership with Carnage is working out better than any of us expected. I never thought I’d see the day.”

I follow his gaze to where two members—one Enigma, one Carnage—are laughing together over coffee near the back of the shop. They’ve got matching fresh ink on their forearms—a new combined symbol for our allied forces. Not a merger, but something completely new. Something stronger.

“The old guard adapts or dies,” I say with a shrug. “And nobody here is looking to die anytime soon.”

Cabby chuckles. “Ain’t that the fucking truth.” He hesitates before adding, “Damon wanted me to tell you he’s planning a welcome party for the new recruits next week. He says it’ll help solidify the ranks if they see leadership there.”

“Tell him we’ll be there,” I promise. “All four of us.”

Back in the day, a declaration like that would have raised a few eyebrows and sparked a few whispers.

Now it’s just a statement of fact. The four of us are a unit.

Everyone knows it. Everyone accepts it. Even members who initially had their doubts have seen the benefits of our particular arrangement.

Everyone has witnessed how it’s strengthened both gangs.

Cabby nods and walks away, already barking orders into his phone. He’s stepped up in ways I never expected, becoming one of my most reliable lieutenants. Everyone has found their place in this new world we’re building.

“Quinn,” Atlas calls from across the shop. “I need your eyes on this.”

He’s hunched over one of the drafting tables we installed last month, surrounded by sketched pages and a couple of open books. His dark hair falls across his forehead as he scowls at whatever he’s working on, and there’s a smudge of graphite along his jaw.

I make my way over, indulging in the simple pleasure of watching him work. We’ve been working on a fanfiction graphic novel for Twilight City Chronicles together—I do most of the drawing, and he does most of the writing, although we each get creative input on all aspects of the story.

It’s been surprisingly fun, nerding out with him about the shared interest that brought us together all those months ago.

“What’s up?” I ask, sliding onto the stool beside him.

Atlas gestures at the page before him—a dramatic spread showing Luther standing on top of a skyscraper while Danica approaches from behind. I did a damn good job of capturing the anger and the longing in her expression, if I do say so myself.

“I’m trying to finalize the dialogue for this moment,” he says. “I think Luther should finally admit he loves her here, but you were arguing for a slower burn.”

I study the page, glancing between the two sketched characters. “I still think Luther’s too stubborn to admit it this early,” I counter. “I’m willing to give you the fact that they’re meant to be together, but we need to drag it out a little longer.”

“Yeah, but look at the subtext,” Atlas argues, flipping back through previous pages we’ve completed. “It’s all been building to this moment. The way he saved her by taking a bullet for her? The look they shared in the rain in that alley? Come on, vicious. He fucking loves her.”

“And you think she just forgives him? After everything?” I’m smiling now, because we’ve had this argument a dozen times over the last few months, ever since we decided to continue our own version of the graphic novel series.

Atlas smirks. “I think they’re both stubborn assholes who’d rather fight than admit they belong together. Sound familiar?”

I laugh, nudging him with my shoulder. “Maybe a little. And I promise, they’ll get their happy ending. But make him work for it a little more.”

“Deal.” Atlas nods, and then his hand is at the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens, his tongue sliding against mine with a familiar hunger.

“Don’t get her all worked up yet,” Nico’s voice interrupts. “We’ve got plans for later.”

I break away from Atlas to see Nico and Killian entering the shop, both of them sporting identical grins that immediately make me suspicious.

“What did you two do?” I ask, sliding off the stool and crossing my arms.

Nico’s mismatched eyes gleam with mischief as he pulls me into his arms. “Nothing bad,” he promises, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “In fact, I think you’ll like this surprise.”

“We just closed a major deal in Lansing,” Killian says, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine even after all these months. “The black market channels we’ve opened up there will double our distribution capacity.”

“Seriously?” I look between them, excitement building. Those connections in the state capitol have been on our wish list for months. “How did you make it happen?”

“Let’s just say our recent successes have been noticed,” Nico says. “The Collective is gaining a reputation, and people want in.”

“We should celebrate,” I say, already mentally calculating how these new channels will affect our bottom line.

“Exactly what we were thinking,” Atlas agrees, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “We’ve got something planned.”

“Should I be worried?” I ask, although the excitement in their eyes makes me eager, not anxious.

Killian’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “Worried? No. Ready? That’s another question entirely.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re on our bikes, racing along the highway with the setting sun painting the sky in streaks of orange and gold. The wind whips through my hair as I follow the three of them, curious about our destination but content to let them lead.

When we take the exit for the county fairgrounds, I’m genuinely confused. The place is usually packed this time of year, but as we pull into the parking lot, I notice something strange—it’s practically empty.

“What the fuck?” I ask as we dismount. “Is it closed or something?”

Nico just grins, taking my hand and leading me toward the entrance. “Not closed. Reserved.”

“Reserved?” I repeat. “You reserved a fairground?”

“Just for tonight,” Atlas clarifies, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “Perks of having friends in high places.”

I’m still trying to wrap my head around it as we walk through the main gate, passing a security guard who nods at Killian like they’ve already met.

The fairground is eerily quiet, the usual crowds and noises absent, although the colorful lights of the rides still flash brightly against the darkening sky.

“This is… a lot,” I say, not quite sure how to feel about such an extravagant gesture.

“You work too hard,” Killian says simply. “We all do. Tonight is about having some fun.”

“At an empty fairground?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Not the entire fairground,” Nico corrects, steering me toward a large, mirrored structure near the center of the park. “Just this particular attraction.”

My pulse quickens as we approach the funhouse. Its facade is garish, painted with exaggerated faces and bold letters.

“What exactly are you three planning?” I ask, although I’m starting to get an inkling, and heat is already building low in my belly.

Once we’re inside, Killian turns to face me and reaches into his pocket. My breath catches as he pulls out the familiar mask—the one he used to wear at the club, back when he was a stranger who fucked me in the dark.

“It’s been too long since we played this game,” he says, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that makes me instantly wet. “And I know how much you love to be hunted.”

My heart beats against my ribs as Atlas and Nico pull out masks of their own—different styles but equally menacing in the dim, colorful lights of the funhouse.

“The rules are simple,” Nico says. “You run. We chase. And when we catch you?—”

“We’re going to fuck you senseless,” Atlas finishes. “Right here in front of the mirrors, so you can watch yourself getting fucked hard from every angle.”

A whimper escapes me, and the anticipation is making my skin tingle.

“You have a thirty-second head start,” Atlas says, his eyes already darkening with heat. “I suggest you use it.”

I don’t need to be told twice. With my heart pounding and desire coursing through my veins, I turn and run deeper into the funhouse, my own reflection multiplying around me as I navigate the maze of mirrors. I can hear them counting behind me, their voices echoing ominously through the space.

Every instinct in my body screams danger, but it’s the sweet, intoxicating kind—the thrill of being pursued by predators who worship me, who would tear apart anyone else who dared to touch me.

I duck around a corner, confronted by a dozen versions of myself—flushed cheeks, bright eyes, and lips parted in excitement. Behind me, I hear them finish counting, and then the heavy tread of boots as they begin their hunt.

“Ready or not,” Killian’s voice echoes. “Here we come.”