Page 39 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

My stomach twists itself into knots as I push my way blindly through the gathered crowd at the Carnage clubhouse. The music is blasting, but now it just sounds like noise. There are people everywhere, laughing and talking and dancing, and I keep moving past them, trying to get…

I don’t know.

Somewhere. Anywhere other than here. Away from what I just saw.

The image of Atlas with Zoey on his lap is burned into my mind.

The way she leaned into him, her body curving appealingly against his.

The way he was holding on to her wrist like he wanted to keep her close.

They both looked flushed and eager in the dim light, and the thought of it makes my heart pound and my stomach churn.

I don’t even know why I feel so upset about it. It’s just Atlas. Atlas and his ex. It’s none of my business what they do together. They’re supposed to be broken up, but whatever. Maybe they’re exes who fuck. Maybe they’re getting back together. None of it should matter.

Someone knocks into me as I make my way for the door, and they barely glance at me before turning back to their little group.

I take it in stride, dodging people doing shots and bantering loudly.

If anyone recognizes me as the leader of Enigma and Nico’s ‘wife,’ they don’t say anything, and I’m grateful for that.

The last thing I want to do right now is talk to any of the Carnage members.

I grit my teeth as I finally shove my way out of the building, sucking in a breath of the fresh night air.

Nico and Killian are in there somewhere, considering they’re the ones who told me about this party and came here with me.

Well… Nico told me. Killian didn’t say a word, as usual, although he somehow managed to find my bike keys for me in about five seconds before we left the house.

I’d misplaced them earlier, and the man must be part bloodhound, because he somehow knew exactly where they were.

But I don’t care about finding either of them right now. I just need some goddamn space .

I need to get out of here, and I don’t need their permission to do that.

I drag in deep breaths, trying to stop thinking about what I saw. Trying to stop caring about it.

Atlas can do whatever the fuck he wants.

He’s a grown man, and he definitely doesn’t owe me anything.

He doesn’t even like me half the time. The other half, he’s doing confusing shit like feeding me in the middle of the night, teasing me about my nerdy reading habits, and staring at me with an unreadable look in his amber-flecked eyes.

I head for my bike, desperate to get the fuck away from here, but before I can throw my leg over it, someone calls out my name.

“Quinn! Wait.”

I turn and see Atlas striding toward me.

He looks slightly out of breath, like he rushed after me, and his hair and clothes are disheveled—a clear reminder of what he was just doing. What he would probably still be doing if I hadn’t walked into the room.

I shouldn’t listen to him. I should just get on my bike and ride away and leave him standing here. But some impulse makes me stay, despite my better judgement.

“What?” I snap, folding my arms.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” I grit out. “I shouldn’t have bothered coming here anyway.”

His brow furrows. “You were clearly invited.”

“Right. ‘Invited.’” I roll my eyes. “You mean Nico basically told me I’d better make an appearance for the sake of the alliance, then made some comment about how he ‘wants to show his wife off,’ which I’m sure was a joke.

That’s not the same thing. Anyway, this shit is for Carnage, and it’s not really my scene. ”

Nico can say whatever he wants to about the alliance and me being his wife. I’m not really one of them, and I definitely feel like an outsider right now.

Atlas’s jaw tenses at my words, and I wonder which part of it he’s taking issue with. I’d assume he doesn’t want me here, if it wasn’t for him trying to get me to stay.

“So you’re just leaving?” he finally asks, a hard edge to his voice.

Anger wells up in me. As if he has any right to want me to stay after what I just saw. As if he has any say in where I go and when. Or why.

“So what?” I snap. “It’s none of your business what I do. And you were clearly otherwise occupied, so why don’t you go back to that?”

“Vicious—”

“Don’t. Call me. That.” I hold up a hand to cut him off, somehow even more irritated at the sound of the nickname he’s given me.

I don’t like the way it sounds coming from his lips.

Or rather, I’ve been starting to like it too much, and I hate that.

“In fact, don’t call me anything at all.

Just fuck off. Go stick your dick in your ex-girlfriend and leave me alone. ”

I hurl the last words at him like daggers, then spin on my heel, turning back toward my bike.

But Atlas doesn’t let it go. Instead of backing off, he shoves his way between me and the motorcycle, physically blocking me from climbing onto it.

“ Move ,” I bite out, gritting my teeth.

“No.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he fires back, his eyes flashing. I can smell whiskey on him, mixing with his woodsy, citrus scent.

“ You’re the one standing in my way, not letting me leave. I’m not trying to do this with you,” I hiss. “I have nothing to say to you, Atlas, so you’re wasting your time.”

“That’s too bad.”

I make a noise of frustration, my hands curling into fists.

I’m tempted to throw a punch, to lash out and fight him the way I would’ve done before this fucking alliance—before we were supposed to be anything but enemies.

But although our raised voices aren’t enough to draw the attention of everyone inside the clubhouse, I know we’d attract an audience if we got into a brawl out here. And for some reason, I don’t want that.

As furious as I am at Atlas, this feels… private, somehow.

Personal.

That thought makes my stomach tighten a little, my pulse picking up, and I feel a sort of fight or flight instinct rising in my chest. I feel raw and exposed, as if every scrap of armor I usually wear around the Princes has been stripped away by the shock of seeing Atlas with Zoey on his lap.

I can feel emotions bubbling up my throat, and if I let them escape, I don’t know what I’ll end up saying… or doing.

“You’re an asshole,” I rasp through clenched teeth. “Get out of my way.”

He shakes his head stubbornly, the drunken haze clearing from his gaze a little as he stares down at me. “Not until you tell me why you’re so pissed at me. Why are you so fucking angry, vicious?”

That damn nickname .

I don’t know if it’s hearing him call me that name again in his deep voice, or if it’s the undercurrent in his tone that sounds almost like a plea, but something inside me snaps. All the wild, chaotic, illogical emotions I’ve been trying to hold at bay burst out of me, and I shove his chest—hard.

“I’m angry because you’ve invaded my fucking life!

” I yell. “Maybe my house was empty before the three of you showed up, and maybe I was fucking lonely, but at least things made sense then! At least I didn’t have you messing with my head every day, running hot and cold, being an asshole one minute and then feeding me at one in the morning the next. ”

Atlas takes a half step backward, and I know it must be because I’ve caught him by surprise. Otherwise, it would take more than the shove I gave him to knock him off balance.

“ I’m messing with your head?” he asks, his voice low. “That’s what you think is going on here?”

“I thought you and Zoey broke up,” I say, even though it’s not exactly an answer to his question.

The knots in my stomach twist even tighter as I shake my head.

“Unless Nico was lying when he told me that. Or did the two of you get back together? And if that’s the case, shouldn’t you be in there with her instead of out here with me? ”

Atlas swallows, the corded muscles of his neck tensing. “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t ,” I snap, feeling as if an electric current is crawling through my veins. “I don’t give a shit. You can do whatever the hell you want. I’m just making conversation, since you’re suddenly so goddamn desperate to talk to me.”

My words seem to spark something inside Atlas.

Now he looks angry too, his firelight eyes flashing as he leans down to get right in my face.

I stand my ground, my chest heaving as I breathe hard, each inhale filling my nostrils with whiskey and citrus.

I know he’s been drinking tonight, and I vaguely wonder if I’ve somehow absorbed some of that alcohol into my system, because I feel almost drunk too.

I feel unhinged.

Reckless.

“Good,” he growls. “Because I’m not the one who’s married to you, am I? It’s not my ring you’re wearing. So you can’t tell me who I can fuck.”

It should piss me off even more, the way he’s talking to me, standing so close that our bodies are almost touching as he looms over me. Instead, my stomach drops, something inside me twisting up tight.

“Did you fuck her?” I demand, my mouth suddenly dry.

He narrows his eyes. “I thought you didn’t give a shit.”

“Just answer the fucking question!”

Atlas’s nostrils flare, and that’s all the warning I get before he snaps.

He grips my upper arms, spinning us suddenly so that I’m boxed in between him and my bike. Anger, frustration, and a whole host of other emotions I can’t identify flash over his face, and his eyes seem to burn into mine as he stares down at me.

“No, I didn’t fuck her,” he snarls. “And do you know why?”

I don’t answer. I can’t.

My heart feels like it’s lodged in my throat, making it impossible to say anything. But I give the tiniest shake of my head, and that’s all Atlas needs to keep going.

“I didn’t fuck Zoey because I can’t stop thinking about you!”

His words fall into the space between us, seeming to suck all the oxygen out of the air. He’s not shouting like I was earlier, but he might as well be. The declaration rings in my ears, and I can hear the rush of my own heartbeat as my pulse picks up.

“Because no matter how hard I try to block you out and focus on other shit,” Atlas continues, his voice hoarse, “there you are in my head. The way you laugh. The way you fight. The way you move through the world like you were born to fucking rule it. I should have a thousand things on my mind every day, but instead, I only have one. A woman with teal hair, a vicious right hook, and a smile that could stop my fucking heart.”

I swallow hard, and as if the movement has drawn his focus, Atlas wraps one hand lightly around my throat, using that grip to tilt my chin up.

“You’re infuriating,” he rasps in a low voice. “And I still crave you. I can’t even be in the same house as you without wanting to?—”

He breaks off, shaking his head, and a sudden realization strikes me.

“That’s why you left in such a hurry today,” I whisper. “You came downstairs and looked so pissed off as soon as you saw me. And then you stormed out.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps. “You were doing yoga in the middle of the goddamn living room. Do you have any idea what you looked like? Do you even fucking know how insane you make me?”

I shake my head. But really, maybe that’s not true. There’s been… something between us. An unspoken attraction, a connection that neither of us has ever explicitly acknowledged. But now Atlas is giving voice to all of it.

My emotions churn in my gut and my chest, making it hard to breathe. However I expected this to all come out, if it ever did, it definitely wasn’t like this. I don’t even know if I’m ready to hear what he’s saying, but that doesn’t seem to stop Atlas from saying it.

It’s all pouring out, like he’s been bottling it up for a while now.

“You’re married to Nico,” he says. “To my best friend. My brother .”

“It’s not real,” I whisper.

“It sounded real enough when you were screaming his name.”

My throat moves under his palm as I swallow. Nico’s name wasn’t the only one I uttered that night, and part of me wants to tell Atlas that. But I don’t, keeping the words tucked safely behind my lips.

His gaze tracks over my face, his eyes bouncing between mine as if he’s searching for an answer to a question he hasn’t even asked yet.

Slowly, he releases his grip on my throat, but only so that he can slide his large, callused hand up the back of my neck, cradling my head and threading his fingers through my hair.

I suck in a breath, my heart skipping a beat and something tightening low in my body at the feel of his fingertips pressing against my scalp.

For a suspended moment, we just stare at each other, me caught in the storm of Atlas’s eyes and him drinking me in like he’s been parched for the sight of my face.

Finally, he speaks again, and his voice is lower now, but still rough. “You’re right. You should go.”

“What?” I gasp.

“You should leave, vicious. Right now.”

“Why?”

He drops his head, tilting my face up even more, and I can feel his breath against my lips. The smell of whiskey is almost completely drowned out by the smell of him , sandalwood and citrus, something that’s becoming so familiar to me.

“Because,” he breathes, “if you don’t leave right this goddamned second, I’m going to bend you over that bike and fuck you right here. Every single consequence be damned.”

My breath stutters in my throat at the dark promise in his tone. It’s not an idle threat. Everything about him— from the look in his eyes to the way his grip tightens on my hair—makes it clear that he’s not joking.

He’ll bend me over and fuck me right in front of his gang’s clubhouse.

With everyone inside.

Nico, especially.

And even knowing that, I’m so tempted to stay. To walk straight into the flames and let myself burn. The tension between us has been growing and shifting ever since he and the others moved into my house, and the reckless part of me wants to find out what will happen when it finally snaps.

The moment lingers, and Atlas releases his grip on my hair but doesn’t step back. He’s leaving it up to me.

Even though part of me is screaming that I should stay, I take a deep breath and move past him. I don’t turn back to see if he’s watching as I get on my bike and rev the engine, then gun it away from the clubhouse.

The cool wind whips past me as I ride away, and it feels good against my heated skin.

It does nothing for the fire in my veins though, which burns through me all the way home.