Page 77 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

It doesn’t seem like Silas has really tried to hide anything, so he must have been decently confident that no one would ever track him back here—or he just felt sure he could handle the threat if someone did.

Either way, we find weapons packed in canvas bags in one room, which I’m guessing are the supplies he picked up from Smith’s pawn shop.

There’s a rolled up leather case with an assortment of knifes, and a hooked, wicked looking blade catches my eye.

My jaw clenches at the memory of Jeremiah sprawled out in that alley, the sides of his mouth gashed open.

Is that the weapon Silas used?

Anger fills me, and I half hope that Silas will return unexpectedly and give us no other option but to try to take him out tonight.

I know Nico wants to be sure we’re getting to the root of the problem, not just chopping off one head of what could be a many-headed snake, but fuck it. I’m hungry for blood.

Once we finish combing through the first floor, we move upstairs.

Again, a sweep turns up no sign of anyone hiding, and the house is sparsely decorated and minimal. It’s the kind of house that someone with no attachments lives in, no sign of who Silas is other than a paid killer.

We sort through anything we can find, opening drawers and boxes and closets, careful not to make too much of a mess but leaving no stone unturned.

The upper part of the house doesn’t have any clues as obvious as the first floor, and we don’t turn up much of anything after several minutes of searching.

But then Killian speaks up from another room.

“Guys. Come in here,” he calls quietly, his voice tense.

We step into what looks like an office at the end of a hallway to find Killian standing in front of a computer.

The computer is off, but several sticky notes have been affixed to the side of the screen, and that’s what he’s staring at.

Nico and I come to stand behind him, studying the notes.

Most of them have phone numbers on them, and a couple have other numbers that don’t seem to make much sense.

Killian points to a note at the bottom, and Nico reads it out loud.

“Progress report to The Saint, location moved.”

My eyes widen, my head jerking back in surprise.

What the fuck?

I recognize the name immediately, and my mind reels. There’s no goddamn way there are two people in Detroit who go by that name, which means…

“Silas is working for the same person who hired us to spy on Quinn,” Killian murmurs, unknowingly finishing my thought.

I share a look with Nico, whose green and blue eyes are hard behind his mask. It’s clear he didn’t know about this any more than the two of us did, and he looks just as stunned by the revelation.

I was never a fan of accepting a job from an unknown source, but the pay The Saint offered us was good, and it seemed to align with something that was already in our best interests.

Or at least, that’s what Nico said. It wasn’t the first time someone hid behind an alias to hire us either, communicating only through anonymous messages, so that part wasn’t a total red flag.

But this? The fact that the three of us and our unknown attacker have been working for the same person?

“What the actual fuck?” I mutter, staring down at the sticky note as if it will give me more answers.

“Keep searching,” Nico says, shaking his head. “We need more info.”

He’s goddamn right about that, but unfortunately, searching for another several minutes turns up nothing else useful.

Nothing else about The Saint, and nothing else about what Silas’s goals are.

We’ve gotten all we’re going to get out of this place, apparently, and it’s left us with more questions than answers.

“We should go,” I tell the other two in a low voice. “Before he comes back.”

Nico and Killian nod, and we slip back out the way we came, careful to leave everything the way we found it.

We don’t drop our guards until we’re back on our bikes and riding away from Silas’s house, putting some distance between it and us. Once we’re far enough away, Nico signals to pull over. He pulls out his phone once we do, calling Quinn and putting her on speaker.

“Hey,” she says, picking up on the second ring.

“Hey. We managed to get into Silas’s house. We found out a few things about how he’s operating, and we’ll fill you in when we see you. We can make a plan for how to take him down from here.”

“That’s good,” she replies, and something about the tone of her voice gives me pause.

Nico doesn’t seem to notice, nodding in response. “Are you still at home, or did you go to Blood and Ink?”

“No. I’m at the Carnage clubhouse.”

His brow furrows, and the three of us exchange glances. “Why are you at the clubhouse?” he asks. “We sent your people back to the tattoo parlor to report to you there.”

There’s a beat of silence, and when Quinn speaks again, something is definitely off. “I need to show you something. Meet me here?”

By now, Nico has picked up on the strange vibe too. Worry flashes across his face, and he nods. “Sure, mia cara. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He hangs up, shoving his phone back in his pocket and adjusting the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his pants.

“Stay alert,” he tells us. “Something’s up.”

Killian nods, his jaw tight. “Let’s go.”

Nico throws a leg over his bike, revving the engine before peeling off in a new direction.

Killian and I follow him, and all three of us lay on the gas.

I was on high alert as we searched Silas’s house, and maybe it’s just lingering adrenaline and wariness from that, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong.

There’s an agitated feeling boiling in my gut, worry for Quinn pulsing through me alongside every beat of my heart.

We need to get to the clubhouse.

We need to see her.

Now.

It feels like the ride takes fucking forever, despite the fact that we’re all speeding, but finally, we near the isolated area where our clubhouse is situated. We slow down as we approach the turnoff to the clubhouse, and I hear Killian’s voice under his helmet over the roar of the bike.

“Is that smoke?”

My jaw drops when we get close enough to see the clubhouse.

Killian was right. It is smoke, pouring into the night air, thick, black, and billowing.

The entire building is on fire.