Page 40 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

KILLIAN

Quinn is agitated.

She has been for the past few days, and it’s been bothering me. It’s not hard to tell when she’s in a bad mood, and that’s not just because I’m attuned to the smallest shifts in her expression that betray her emotions after all this time of following her.

She scowls more often, muttering under her breath to herself, too low for me to hear what she’s saying, but clearly upset about something.

The issue is, I don’t know what caused this.

It could be any number of things, from the irritation she feels at being married to Nico, to having us in her house, to not having very many leads when it comes to who’s been targeting our gangs.

But all of those things have been constant for the last couple of weeks. This frustration seems… new.

It doesn’t stop her from doing her job though. With our people pairing up for jobs, having each other’s backs and providing backup across territories, the rest of us are trying to dig up more information about who might be trying to make a name for themselves in Detroit.

She and I head out together one afternoon to do some canvassing, questioning various informants and eyes on the street—people that either Carnage or Enigma have connections with. Nico and Atlas didn’t turn up much when they asked around right after the wedding, so we’re trying again.

If anyone is surprised to see the two of us working together, none of them are stupid enough to say so. They mostly deal with Quinn, answering her questions while I stand behind her. I don’t speak, leaving the talking up to her, but I’m sure my presence inspires them to tell her the truth.

Teamwork.

“Nah, I ain’t seen nothin’ but the usual crowd,” a man named Pace tells her, brushing his greasy hair back from his forehead. “A couple of low-level drug dealers, maybe, but they looked like they were barely out of high school. Selling Valium they stole from their moms or some shit.”

“And you haven’t heard anything? Anyone asking questions that seem suspicious, or rumors of a new crew running around?”

Pace shakes his head. “Nah.”

Quinn’s lips tighten just a little at the corners, which I know she does when she’s trying not to scowl. “Alright. If you hear anything, let us know. Either Nico or me.”

Pace nods, and we leave him on the bus stop bench where we found him, smoking a cigarette and humming to himself.

“Another fucking dead end,” Quinn mutters once we’re out of earshot.

She shoots me a sideways look, lifting a brow.

“Feel free to jump in anytime, by the way. I know you’re apparently allergic to talking to me , but I asked Nico, and he said you’re not a mute.

So if you have questions you want to ask these people, have at it. ”

There’s an almost teasing tone to her voice, and it makes a smirk tug at my lips as I grunt softly under my breath in response.

Now that I’ve been spending more time in Quinn’s presence without having to hide in the shadows, I’ve realized how much my silence draws out the opposite response in her.

She seems to have given up trying to get me to speak to her, and when I stay quiet, she talks more, filling in the silences with words.

That’s how I’ve learned things about her that I never found out even through all those months of stalking her, and I’ve filed every single one of them away.

For example, I know that she prefers her coffee loaded with cream and sugar but drinks it black anyway.

I know that her mother’s name was Carina, and that Quinn doesn’t remember her very well.

I know that the first tattoo she ever did turned out so badly that she cried afterward, convinced she’d never be good enough—but that she redoubled her efforts after that, practicing until she mastered it.

I didn’t know that she asked Nico about whether I’m a mute, but I like the idea that she’s curious. That she wants to know more about me. It’s only fair, since I want to know everything about her.

We ride our bikes to a nearby part of the city and park them side by side.

Just like she usually does, Quinn falls into idle ‘conversation’ with me as we walk down a side street, searching for the next informant we’re planning to talk to.

I’m hoping she’ll say something about what’s been bothering her the past few days, but she doesn’t—although she does mention that she didn’t sleep well last night.

I frown at that, making a mental note to check her room and see if there’s a way to block out extraneous light. I don’t like the idea of her tossing and turning.

We round another corner, and I nudge Quinn and jerk my chin as I catch sight of the informant Carnage has worked with before up ahead. He’s lounging against the grimy brick exterior of a convenience store, picking at his teeth with one fingernail as he cat-calls a passing woman.

“Baby, those heels look painful!” He turns his head and spits out whatever he just dislodged from his teeth, then smirks at her. “Why don’t you come over here and I’ll rub your feet for you? Free of charge.”

She flips him off before disappearing into the convenience store, and the man laughs, pushing away from the building.

His gaze lands on Quinn as we approach, and his eyes widen appreciatively. Then he sees me beside her, and whatever he opened his mouth to say dies before it can come out.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Killian.”

“Oh good, you know who we are.” Quinn stops a couple feet away from him, crossing her arms. “You’re Tobias?”

“Yeah.” He squints, his gaze darting from her back to me. “I heard Enigma and Carnage had teamed up, but damn. Seeing it in the flesh is something else.”

Quinn huffs a breath. She looks like she wants to agree with him for a split second, but instead, she keeps it professional, her tone businesslike and to the point.

“Have you picked up on any unusual activity in the area lately? People moving in places they shouldn’t be?”

Tobias rubs his chin for a second before turning to spit on the ground again. “Huh. Unusual activity.” He purses his lips, dragging his tongue over his teeth. “Now that you mention it, I did catch wind of something. I didn’t think it mattered much, but since you’re asking…”

“What is it?”

“Eh, some new player on the scene. Just a rumor, mind you. But from what I hear, they’re based nearby.”

He rattles off the name of a little piece of the city that’s fairly close to Enigma territory, and Quinn’s eyebrows lift a little.

“That’s good info.” She nods. “Anything else you can tell us?”

“That’s all I got, but if I catch wind of anything else, I’ll get word to you.”

We pay him for the intel and then head out, taking that information with us.

“Finally, something that might be a lead,” Quinn murmurs, half to me and half to herself. “Maybe it’s nothing, but if we can find someone who keeps closer tabs on that part of the city, maybe they’ll know more about who Tobias was talking about.”

I nod thoughtfully, mulling it all over in my head.

Even with the shifting power structures in Detroit, when someone new turns up, people take notice.

They want to know if the newcomer is going to fall in line or start up trouble, and it’s always smart to know ahead of time what you’re dealing with.

The troubling thing is that Quinn didn’t know about this new player. He’s apparently popped up near her territory, but none of us have heard the rumors Tobias mentioned.

Either he’s new enough that word is only just now getting out, or he’s been lying low for a while.

Biding his time. Either way, we need to follow this thread and see where it leads.

Nico will have thoughts on how to proceed, and Atlas has been working to tease clues out of the little info we’ve already dug up. This will definitely help.

We walk down the street together, Quinn making notes on her phone. As we’re about to cross at an intersection, she looks up to check for cars, then stops in her tracks.

She goes still, and I’m so attuned to her presence beside me that it only takes me half a heartbeat to realize that something is wrong.

The stoplight is broken, so rather than switching from red to yellow to green, it’s just flashing red over and over. The few cars on the road are treating it like a four-way stop, but the flow of traffic clearly isn’t Quinn’s issue. She’s staring unblinkingly at the light, and her face is pale.

I frown, waiting to see if she’s going to cross the street, and when she doesn’t move, I nudge her, worried about what’s going on.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her voice sounds… far away. Like she’s not really focused. “I just—I need a minute.”

She doesn’t take her eyes away from the flashing light for another few seconds, but then all at once, she rips her gaze away and starts walking. Not across the street, but down the block, turning a corner and disappearing into an alley.

I frown after her, my shoulders tensed. I’m not sure what’s happening here, what caused this reaction, but I don’t like it at all. Her energy has been agitated lately, but this is something completely different.

I follow her, and as I step into the alley, I see her crouched on the ground, her hands over her head, tucked into a little ball.

Her back rises and falls rapidly, and I can tell from the way her breathing sounds that she’s close to hyperventilating. Her harsh breaths echo around us in the alley, and I stride closer, realizing what’s going on.

She’s in the beginnings of a panic attack.

Something about the light or the place caused this, and it makes irritation flare up in me that I don’t know what it is. I’ve been following her for months and she’s never done anything like this before.

But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, all that matters is that I take care of her. Get her somewhere safe and more comfortable than an alley to ride this out.