Page 42 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

Killian’s voice vibrates against my chest as he speaks to me for the first time since I’ve known him, and I go stiff in his arms, my eyes flying wide.

The words wash over me, but it’s not what he said that has me reeling. It’s not even the fact that Killian finally deigned to speak to me.

It’s the fact that I recognize that voice. That nickname.

How could I not?

I scramble up and out of the tub as shock shoots through me, sending water sloshing out onto the floor. Killian stands as well, his wet clothes clinging to his large frame as water drips off his body in little rivers, splashing back into the tub and all over the floor.

I’m suddenly very aware of how naked I am, even though I wasn’t particularly bothered by that before when he was holding me through my panic.

But it’s different now.

I yank a towel from the rack and wrap it around myself, staring up at him like I’ve never seen him before. Like he’s a complete and total stranger.

Except… he’s not. In fact, I know him so much better than I ever thought.

My mind is racing, adrenaline pouring through my veins and making my limbs shake all over again in the aftermath of my panic attack. I feel almost dazed, and my mouth is dry when I finally speak.

“You—you’re the man from the club?”

Killian hesitates for a second, his expression unreadable. Then, as if deciding there’s no point in trying to deny it, he nods.

My heart pounds against my ribs at that simple confirmation.

Phantom .

Killian is Phantom. He’s the man I’ve let chase me and hold me down and do all kinds of shit to me.

The one I met anonymously at Le Bal Masque and who became my lifeline, in a way, the only person for a long time who could give me the kind of release I craved.

I never saw his face, which was always shrouded behind a full mask, and the rooms where he fucked me were always dark.

I only heard his voice and felt his hands—and other things—on my body.

And up until now, I’ve only seen Killian’s face and never heard his voice.

Oh my god .

“That’s why you never talk around me,” I say, my words halting as the truth hits me. “Because you knew if you did, I’d recognize your voice. I knew you had a reputation for not talking much, but you never spoke to me at all.”

“Yes.” Killian nods again.

“Fuck.”

I pace away from him, holding the towel tight to my body as I scrub a hand over my face.

The painful remnants of the panic attack are fading away quickly, but the emotions rising up to replace them aren’t much better.

I spin around to face Killian again, my eyes narrowing as a new thought occurs to me.

“You don’t smell the same. Phantom—the man at the club—he had a different scent. I’d recognize that scent anywhere, and I never smelled it on you.”

“I know. I wore a different aftershave to the club.”

“Jesus. You’re a fucking psycho.” The words leave my lips on a hoarse rasp.

I feel like I’m spinning out, like the room is tilting and shifting around me. I don’t know how to handle what Killian is telling me right now… but I don’t know how to deny it either.

There’s always been something about this silent, observant man that intrigued me, but somehow, I never put the pieces together.

Maybe I should have, considering Killian’s broad, looming stature.

But I know other men who are tall like him, and in my mind, Phantom always seemed like he was separate from the rest of my life.

He was a part of the club, part of a world that no one else knew about.

He was always at Le Bal Masque when I went. Whenever I needed that itch to be scratched, the tension building under my skin to be released, I didn’t have to wait long for him to show up and give me what I needed.

That thought spins another question into my head as suspicion twists in my gut. Killian said he’s been watching me for months…

“How did you know I would be there?” I whisper. “Every time I was at the club, you were too. I used to think I was just lucky, or that you went there every night or something. Was I really just lucky? Was that a coincidence?”

Before he even speaks, I feel like I already know the answer, and judging from the look on his face, he can tell.

“No.” His face is still impassive, his dark green eyes locked on me. “It wasn’t luck. It was never a coincidence when I saw you. I followed you all the time. Here, at the tattoo parlor, at the club. I knew when you would go to Le Bal Masque, and I would follow you.”

My breath catches. “What do you mean here? ”

“I’ve been in your house before. Watching you.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s not an unhinged thing to say.

My mind churns wildly as I think about all the times I thought I was alone here before the three of them moved in.

All the times I walked around naked or in my underwear.

The times I laid in bed and got myself off, touching myself as roughly as I could in the hopes of sparking some of the sensations I craved so much.

Was Killian there for any of that? Watching from the shadows?

And how the fuck did he get into my house without me knowing?

I feel like I’m reeling all over again, the last several months rewriting themselves in my head. I always felt like I was lucky to have found Phantom at the club and to have had that outlet. But now that I know it was Killian’s hands on me… Killian’s cock inside me… I don’t know what to think.

I want to know why . I want to know what the fuck he was thinking, and why, me and so much other shit.

I open my mouth again, not even sure what I’m going to say. But before I can get anything else out, there’s a shout from downstairs.

“Killian! Quinn! Where the fuck are you?”

It’s Nico’s voice. I hear Atlas’s voice too, a bit quieter but full of agitation as he says something to Nico, and then there’s the furious beat of shoes on the stairs.

“In here,” Killian calls. He still hasn’t looked away from me.

The bathroom door bursts open a second later, and Nico and Atlas stop short in the doorway.

There’s a second where they both take in the scene, and I can only imagine what it looks like to them. Killian wet and clothed, me wet and in a towel, water all over the floor, and so much tension thickening the air that it’s hard to breathe.

Nico opens his mouth, his gaze darting between the two of us. Then he shakes his head sharply, holding up a hand.

“We’ll come back to this later,” he says shortly. “There’s been another attack.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, my head whipping toward him. “What happened? We didn’t have any jobs lined up for tonight. Did Carnage?”

“No.” His mismatched eyes glitter with anger. “This attack seems like it was completely random. There was no job, no drop, nothing for the attacker to sabotage. A small group of Enigma members were out with a Prince of Carnage. One of our guys named Jeremiah. He just sent me a distress call.”

My stomach drops. Fuck. This is bad. I thought our people would at least be safe when they weren’t doing official gang business. But clearly, I was wrong.

“Did he says anything else?”

Nico shakes his head, looking grim. “Just their location and that it was bad.”

“Fuck. Okay. Okay, we have to?—”

I break off and stride out of the bathroom, pushing past all of them as I head to my room.

I throw on fresh clothes as fast as I can, my mind on overdrive as I try to process the wild turns this evening has taken.

I shove all of my feelings about Killian’s revelation into a box in my mind and lock it, separating it from what I have to focus on right now.

When I emerge from my room, he’s dry and dressed too, but I barely even spare him a glance as I meet Nico’s gaze.

“Let’s go,” I say, my voice tight.

We all head outside, and I clamber on the back on Nico’s bike without a word, since mine is still near the place where Killian and I questioned Tobias.

I wrap my arms around him as Killian and Atlas hop onto their bikes too, and we break the speed limit several times over to get to the spot where Nico told us the attack happened.

It’s at the end of a long block that’s home to a few dive bars and run-down laundromats, and we pull our bikes over to the curb near a spot where several street lamps have burned out and never been replaced.

Glancing at the three Princes around me, I put a hand on the gun I hastily shoved into the waistband of my pants, sizing up our surroundings warily.

The first thing I notice is how quiet it is. There’s the faint sound of music and voices in the distance, spilling out of the bars, but that’s it. I was expecting to hear the sounds of fighting or yelling or even sounds of pain in the aftermath of the attack. But there’s nothing.

It sends a chill down my spine, and I tug my gun from my waistband as Nico gestures silently with two fingers, directing the rest of us into a loose formation as we approach the mouth of a shadowy alley nearby. We post up on either side of it, two on each side, then peer around the corner.

It’s empty… or at least, that’s what I think at first.

There’s no one standing in the alley, and it isn’t until Nico lets out a low curse beside me that my gaze drops down to the oil-stained and pocked pavement.

I suck in a breath, my stomach pitching.

There are four bodies sprawled out on the ground.

“Mother fucker ,” Atlas bites out, his tone furious.

“It’s clear,” Killian says from beside Atlas, and I start a little at the sound of his voice. Even with everything else going on, it’s still a shock to hear him speak. His gaze sweeps the alley again before he adds, “There’s no one here.”

“Don’t let your fucking guard down anyway,” Nico commands as all four of us step into the alley and stride toward the bodies. “This could be an ambush, meant to draw us out.”