Page 45 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

QUINN

When I wake up the next morning, I feel almost hungover. Emotionally hungover, I guess.

My head pounds, and my body feels heavy with the weight of everything that’s pressing down on me. As I lie beneath my messy blankets in bed, it all catches up with me. The panic attack, Killian’s revelation, and—fuck, the deaths of my people.

I drag in a deep breath, feeling my ribs ache with it. My chest hurts as if the heaviness has all settled there, and I press the heels of my hands over my eyes, letting them dig in a bit until I see stars.

There’s just so fucking much going on. Too much. So much that it feels like I’m spiraling out of control. Like I can’t find solid footing.

It bothers me. This lack of control makes me feel… vulnerable. Like I’m just reacting to things as they happen instead of being able to actually handle them.

The problem is, I have no idea how these kinds of things should be handled. Betrayals and attacks from sources we can’t track down. Past traumas. It’s just all so big.

I think about what Killian said last night, about how we crave the darkness sometimes after experiencing the worst that the world has to offer, so that we can control it next time.

I never overtly thought about it like that, or at least, I never admitted it to myself, but it makes some amount of sense.

After everything that’s happened to me, it did make me feel like I was taking control when I went to seek out Phantom at that club.

Like I was making a choice for myself instead of just letting things happen to me.

Thinking about that makes something warm start to pool in my belly, and I shove the thought away before I can let it take root too much.

The last thing I want is to start admitting that Killian was right about anything. Being lied to by him still stings, and I’m still angry about all of it.

I take a few more deep breaths and then force myself to get out of bed. The entire house feels like it’s loaded with booby traps right now, like there’s nowhere safe for me to turn. And that especially pisses me off because it’s my goddamn house.

But things are still unresolved between me and Atlas, the argument we got into at the club and the things he said to me still hanging over our heads. We haven’t spoken much at all since then, both of us deliberately avoiding each other.

There’s Killian, and all that baggage that I have no idea how to even attempt to deal with.

And then there’s my husband.

Unconsciously, I touch the tattoo that Nico gave me, mostly done with the peeling phase and well on its way to being healed by now.

I’m starting to get used to it, no longer startled by the sight of a new tattoo on my body when I see myself in the mirror, and I don’t know if I like that it’s beginning to feel like a part of me or hate it.

I get dressed and head downstairs, immediately a bit relieved when I realize that the only one down there so far is Nico. I never thought I’d be glad to see him, but out of all three Princes, things feel the least messy between the two of us right now.

They’re far from settled, considering we’ve been fucking when we really shouldn’t be. I have no idea if we’re enemies with benefits or something more, but right now I don’t have to think about that.

There are much more pressing matters, and it’s easier to shove all of my feelings to the back burner.

Nico is sitting at the kitchen table, his head slightly bowed as if he’s deep in thought. He looks up when I come into the kitchen, and he looks as tired as I feel.

A twinge of empathy tugs at my heart. One of his people died last night too, and despite how smug and irritating he can be, it’s clear he does care about making sure his crew is taken care of.

He probably feels just as out of control as I do about this whole thing, as guilty, angry, and heartbroken about the losses last night as I am.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he says, bypassing a greeting and jumping right into business. But I’m fine with that. It’s better this way. “Trying to figure out what the fuck this mystery person’s angle is.”

I nod, rubbing at my face. “Yeah, me too. Last night, I had the thought that it feels like they’re just fucking with us now. They attacked us openly, unprovoked.”

“Exactly.” His blue and green eyes glitter in the morning sunlight as he rests his elbows on the table, leaning toward me.

“There’s no real strategy behind that. They didn’t gain anything.

If this was only about moving in on our territory, they would have tried to make the attack worthwhile for them. This was just…”

“Senseless,” I finish. “It would be one thing if they moved on our business interests or sabotaged a deal. But this feels like declaring war.”

Nico nods, his face set into grim lines. “Yeah. It fucking does.”

“We thought there would be safety in numbers,” I say, sinking into the chair opposite him and rubbing my temples with my fingertips. “But it’s not enough. They took out four of our people at once last night, and we can’t afford to send a whole army of people on every job. That would get insane.”

“Not to mention too goddamn conspicuous,” he adds.

I snort. “Yeah. That too.”

Nico brings one hand down on the table, his fist striking the wood with a heavy thud.

“I’m done with this shit. I’m not losing another man, and neither are you.

I say that until we figure out who’s after us, we divert all resources to finding them.

We can’t keep treading water, trying to stay afloat while he picks our people off one by one. ”

“Agreed.” I meet his gaze, impressed in spite of myself by the hard expression on his face.

He’s serious. He’s willing to drop everything else just to keep his people safe, and I can respect that.

“I owe this motherfucker—whoever they are—a bullet through their head and a gashed up face. Every fucking thing they did to our people, I’ll do to them. ”

For just a second, the somber expression fades from Nico’s handsome features, replaced by a small smile. His eyes warm as his gaze tracks over my face. “Vengeance looks good on you, mia cara.”

His words and the tone of his voice make my heart trip in my chest. I don’t know how to respond to that, so I brush right past it, clearing my throat. “We might have a lead. Before yesterday’s shit show, Killian and I actually did get some information that could be useful.”

Nico sits up a little straighter, his gaze sharpening. “What did you learn?”

I fill him in on the tip we got from Tobias, watching as he takes it in. His eyebrows are drawn down, and he has a thoughtful look on his face.

“That area is right by your territory,” he says.

I nod, knowing he’s thinking the same thing I am. It could be nothing, but it also seems like too big of a coincidence to ignore if there are rumors of a new player on the scene right near the spot Enigma has staked out for itself.

“Tobias didn’t know much about it,” I add. “He’d just picked up a few rumors, nothing too substantial. We need to find someone who has ears to the ground in that area and might have more concrete information.”

Nico makes a noise in his throat, drumming his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Yeah. And it’s not gonna be some street informant. We’re looking for higher-level information than they’d have. We need to find someone who—” He breaks off, holding up a hand. “Vincent Locke.”

I frown. “What?”

“Vincent Locke. He runs a pleasure den in that area called Eros. He doesn’t have an official organization and keeps mostly to himself, but he’s territorial as fuck and can hold a grudge longer than anyone I’ve ever met.

I’m positive he keeps tabs on what’s going on around him, so if someone is making moves, even subtly, he’ll probably know something about it.

If we can get in to talk to him, he might be able to give us a name. ”

As Nico speaks, Killian and Atlas stride into the room, one after the other. The whole atmosphere changes when they come in, and I feel the tension crawling up my back.

Something about Nico talking about a pleasure den while Killian is listening from mere feet away hits a little too close to home. Eros isn’t the same place we went to, but it’s in a close enough vein to have my hackles up.

Killian crosses to the fridge and reaches inside to get something, wincing slightly as he does.

That catches Nico’s attention, who narrows his eyes at his friend. “What’s wrong?”

“Pulled something,” Killian says shortly.

My eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. He could have easily told Nico that I stabbed him, but he doesn’t, and Nico doesn’t push for more information, seeming to buy Killian’s explanation. Instead, Nico glances at Atlas as the tatted up man comes to sit down at the table.

Luckily, Atlas keeps a bit of distance between us, deliberately pulling his chair out at an angle so that we’re seated as far away from each other as possible without drawing attention to it.

I wonder if he feels as unsettled with all the unresolved shit between us as I do.

We’ve barely said a word to each other for days, but the unspoken words swirling between us are practically deafening by this point.

Atlas doesn’t make eye contact with me, focusing on Nico instead, and that’s fine with me. I lean back in my chair, letting Nico do most of the talking as he fills Killian and Atlas in on what we were just talking about.

Killian nods in expressionless agreement, but Atlas scowls, a look of distaste crossing his face as he cracks his tattooed knuckles. “Really? Vincent Locke? He’s our best option?”

“At this point, yes,” Nico says, a weight to his tone that suggests there’s more being communicated between them in that way they have. “I’m not saying I like it, but we need to try to talk to him.”

“I’ll go,” I offer, cutting in. “I can go to Eros tonight and try to get something out of Vincent. We don’t have time to waste. Whoever’s doing this shit has already gotten bold enough to start killing. We don’t want to see what happens if we give them time to get even bolder.”

“I don’t disagree, but it’s not going to be as easy as walking in and getting the kind of answers you want.” Nico shifts his focus to me. His expression is dark, and he holds my gaze intently. “Eros isn’t just any club, mia cara. It’s… old school, I guess you’d say.”

Atlas snorts. “Try ‘archaic.’”

Nico inclines his head slightly, acknowledging his friend’s words.

“It’s usually an invite-only club, so you’ll have a hard time getting in at all.

And they have a hell of a lot of strict rules for dress, conduct, and pretty much everything else.

Doing the wrong thing there could land you in a lot of trouble. ”

I frown, because it sounds more different from Le Bal Masque than I was expecting. “Isn’t it just a sex club?”

Nico’s jaw tightens slightly. “No. I mentioned before that Vincent Locke is a loner who operates solo. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have power, and it doesn’t mean his hands are clean.

He’s got several illegal businesses running out of his club, including providing a front for human trafficking.

Eros is his domain, and within those walls, he’s the king.

What he says goes, and pissing him off would be a very bad idea—for both you, Enigma, and Carnage. ”

I swallow, liking the sound of this less and less by the second. It’s no longer a mystery to me why Atlas’s face twisted into a look of disgust earlier at the mention of Vincent Locke. He sounds like a fucking scumbag.

“Well, it’s not like we have another choice,” I say, crossing my arms. “Someone has to go talk to Vincent, and after seeing what our faceless coward of an enemy did to my people, I’m not going to sit at home twiddling my thumbs.”

Nico scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking tense and agitated. Then he nods. “Alright. But you’re not going alone. It’s too dangerous for to you walk in there by yourself, and you’ll need someone to have your back if things go wrong.”

“You think I can’t navigate a pleasure club?” I scowl, not sure whether I should be touched by his apparent concern for me or insulted.

He shoots me a look, one corner of his mouth pulling upward in a smirk. “Put your claws away, mia cara. I know you can handle yourself. But it’s not about that. I wouldn’t send anyone in there alone.”

“Fine. Then you can come with me.”

He grimaces, looking truly regretful as he shakes his head. “No, I can’t. Not if you want to actually talk to Vincent. He fucking hates me, and I doubt I’d be allowed to step two feet into his club.”

“Why?”

Nico chuckles dryly. “Remember how I told you he can hold a grudge longer than anyone I’ve ever met?

Well, I know that from personal experience.

He’s got beef with me for some old shit that happened years ago.

Not worth dragging up. The point is, I can’t go with you, so one of the others will have to. ”

I can’t tell if he’s not elaborating on what he did to piss off Vincent because it’s none of my business and he wants to hide it from me, or if it really isn’t anything worth talking about. Either way, I decide not to press him on it right now, even though I can’t help but be curious.

It also means that the easiest choice for who would go with me isn’t an option.

That leaves Atlas and Killian.

“Atlas,” I say instantly. The decision basically makes itself.

Things are still weird between us, but there’s way too much loaded shit between me and Killian and places people go to have kinky sex.

There’s no way in hell I’d pick him for this.

Not after everything I learned last night. Not when I’m still this angry at him.

I don’t look in his direction, but I can tell that Killian has stiffened. I can practically feel the dissatisfaction radiating from him as he reacts to being excluded from this little mission.

Well, if he’s pissed off, that’s just too damn bad.

Actions have consequences.