Page 30 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

Several days later, I’m at the tattoo parlor in the early evening, down in the basement meeting space with Emmett and a few other members of Enigma.

Our last drop went well, and that has people in high spirits.

“It makes people think that teaming up with the Princes of Carnage might not be a total disaster,” Emmett told me when he came down first. “And I think people needed to believe it would pay off in the long run.”

He’s right about that. I’ve overheard some grumbling since the joint meeting—nothing that makes it seem like people are going to revolt, but there’s clearly been some doubt. We need a win for this whole thing.

“The Princes have a weapons deal going on,” I tell Emmett and the rest now. “It’s happening in a week or two, and we’re going to be expected to provide support for that as needed.”

Emmett frowns immediately, clearly not liking that. “Is that necessary? Can’t they handle their own business?”

“It’s a part of our bargain,” I remind him. “If we expect them to help us when we need it, we’ve got to do the same for them.”

Before that day when we called both of our gangs in for a meeting, I would have agreed with Emmett. I would have said that we don’t need to be dragging into Carnage business, putting our people on the line for their deals.

But after Nico revealed that he got me my own bike and made it clear that he does mean to make a true go of this, I’ve been trying to do the same. Trying to give this a real shot.

I haven’t slept with Nico again since that first time—since our wedding night.

I meant it when I told Killian that it was a mistake.

I still don’t fully trust any of them, and I’m not deluding myself into thinking that they trust me completely either.

But at the same time, I can see the benefits to what we agreed on, and I’m going to uphold my end of the bargain.

If this thing goes down in flames, it won’t be because of me dropping the ball.

“Listen,” I tell Emmett and everyone else. “We need them and they need us. So we’re going to do this for real. The next time we have a deal where we need backup, we’ll call them in.”

“And we’re just supposed to trust them to have our backs?” Jasper mutters, and I pin him with a look.

“I’m asking you to trust me ,” I say. “And I think this is the right call.”

That silences any more protests, and after giving out more details, I call the meeting to a close. Emmett agrees to find the more agreeable Enigma members to put on this job with the Princes, and that’ll have to be good enough.

I go back up to the main part of the tattoo shop, inhaling the scent of ink and soaking in the buzz of the machines as customers get tattooed. It’s a comforting smell. The smell of my childhood and the business my dad built and taught me. It always reminds me of him.

As a continued show of solidarity between me and the Princes, I rode the bike Nico got me when I came to the shop. It still makes me feel a little thrill of surprise as I step outside and look at it, shiny and black, parked outside the building, and I mount up and ride out, heading home.

It’s just starting to get dark when I pull up to my house, and there are lights on inside when I show up. I’m still not used to that. Usually, when I get back from Enigma meetings and it’s dark, I come back to a cold, dark house, waiting for me to turn on lights and bring some life to it.

This feels more like it did when my dad was alive, and I have to shake myself as I park and get off the bike. It’s not my dad waiting for me inside, but Nico, Atlas, and Killian, and they’re nowhere close to being the same.

I’ve been trying to keep to my usual routines, even though they’re here, invading my home. I step inside, kick off my shoes by the door, and drop my keys in the bowl on the little table I keep there.

My stomach growls, reminding me that I definitely didn’t eat before the meeting with my crew like I meant to, so I head toward the kitchen. But when I walk through the doorway, Atlas is already there, sitting at the little table with a bowl of something in front of him.

I hesitate, half in and half out of the room, unsure of how to proceed. I’m still not used to having to share space, but at the same time, I’m not going to let them kick me out of my own house. So I square my shoulders and walk fully into the kitchen.

Atlas looks up when I enter, his face guarded.

“Where are the other two?” I ask before he can say anything.

“Killian’s at Carnage headquarters, and Nico is upstairs,” he replies.

I nod and head to the fridge. At least there’s only one of them to deal with right now.

I can’t remember the last time I went shopping, but there should be some leftover pizza in here that’s still good. That’ll do for a quick dinner. It’s my usual, scrounging together a meal out of whatever is left from my last one—but when I open the fridge, I stop and stare.

Because it’s full. Like, actually full, and not just full of takeout boxes and Tupperware. There are even vegetables and fruits in the crisper drawers.

“What is this?” I ask, whipping my head around to stare at Atlas.

He just stares back, lifting one eyebrow. “It’s food.”

“Yeah, I know it’s food,” I retort. “How did it get here?”

Atlas makes a face at me, drumming his tattooed fingers on the table.

The ink on the backs of his hands crawls all the way up his forearms, his tattoos shifting as the muscles move beneath his skin.

“Well, you see, sometimes people go to this magical place called the grocery store. And they have almost any kind of food you can imagine there. If you give them money, they’ll even let you take some of it home so you can eat that instead of the week-old takeout it seems like you were living on. ”

“Fuck you,” I snap, irritated. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize food when you see it,” he continues as if I didn’t even say anything, “considering how fucking empty your fridge was. It’s fine if you want to live like that, but Nico, Killian, and I are used to having actual things to eat in our home.”

I roll my eyes, even more annoyed by his comments. “That takeout wasn’t a week old.”

“Whatever you say,” he fires back, dismissive. “It’s still back there if you want to try your luck with it.”

And he’s right. The foil-wrapped parcel of pizza is in the back of the fridge, behind a brand new carton of milk and a container of chicken.

At least he didn’t come in and start throwing my shit away.

“It never used to be this empty,” I shoot back. “But I’ve been a little busy since my dad died. I had shit to do, like running Enigma and trying to keep things from going to hell with him gone. I used to cook all the time for the two of us, but since he’s been gone…”

I trail off, not finishing that thought. It just… hasn’t felt worth it to go through all the fanfare and effort of cooking full meals since my dad died. It would just mean me eating alone in the living room and then having to clean up the mess in silence.

I used to have him here with me. He’d insist on doing the dishes if I cooked, and I’d sit on the counter while he did, the two of us talking about anything and everything together.

Thinking about it now makes my chest ache painfully, the knowledge that I’ll never have that again hitting me like an invisible fist.

Atlas is still watching me, and he cocks his head to one side, his amber-tinged gaze turning slightly less hostile. “You were close, weren’t you? You and your dad?”

I nod. “Yeah. We were.”

Those words don’t seem like enough to encompass all of it. To explain that he was all I had for so long. The gang was like family to us, people we could count on to be there when we needed them. But he and I? We were family.

“He raised me pretty much by himself,” I say. “I always knew he wanted me to take over Enigma someday when he was gone, but… I don’t think he expected it to happen so soon. I know I didn’t.”

My voice drops a little on the last words, and Atlas gives me a look I can’t quite interpret.

“You handled it well,” he admits, sounding almost grudging. “Better than anyone expected you to. Better than we hoped you would.”

I snort, because I know that’s true.

“Carnage wasn’t the only gang hoping we’d fall,” I tell him. Then I smirk as I add, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Despite the fact that I shouldn’t really give a shit what Atlas thinks of me, his reluctant respect means something to me.

Not everyone could’ve kept things afloat the way I did, and even though I doubted myself plenty of times along the way, it’s nice to know that even my enemies were impressed by how I handled shit.

Turning away from Atlas, I grab some stuff out of the fridge to make dinner with. It’s been a long fucking time since I attempted to cook, so I opt for something simple like a quick pasta dish.

I can feel him studying me and I chop up some veggies and start a pot of water boiling on the stove.

“It’s just been you living here, since Jonah died?” he asks after a moment.

“Yeah,” I reply, leaning down to get a pan from under the counter.

“And now you’ve got three roommates.”

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, which wasn’t exactly on my bucket list. But…” I sigh, then admit the truth. “Honestly, even though I don’t love having you guys here, I can admit that this big house felt too fucking empty after my dad died. Empty like the fridge.”

“I get that.” Atlas’s voice turns somber, and when I glance over at him, he’s nodding thoughtfully.

“Do you?”

“Yeah. It’s how I felt after my dad died. Not that I stuck around where we lived for long after he was killed.”

I blink, taking in that new information. It’s hitting me more and more every day how little I knew about these men before I married one of them. I had no idea Atlas’s dad had been killed, for example, but I guess there’s no way I would have known.