Page 81 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

I don’t know what they plan to tie me up with, but that question is answered when Killian steps forward.

He grabs the hem of my shirt, sending my pulse skittering as he rips it, pulling a length of cloth from the bottom.

It leaves my stomach exposed, and I swear I catch a glint of heat in his dark green eyes as his gaze passes briefly over my toned, tattooed skin.

I grit my teeth, looking away. As Killian steps back, Atlas jerks me forward, gripping my wrists together.

He holds them as Killian binds them with the scraps of my own clothes.

They work methodically together as Nico watches, and it’s not lost on me that this scenario—Nico calling the shots, and his two best friends following his commands without hesitation—is something I’m so intimately familiar with.

No, not intimate . Not anymore.

Killian gets the cloth tied around my wrists, and I grimace. He obviously knows his way around a knot, and it’s so tight that I’m sure the circulation in my hands is going to be fucked. But I don’t complain, even when I’m lifted unceremoniously and slung over Atlas’s shoulder.

Because I refuse to make any of this easy for them, I knee him in the chest as he gets me situated, but before I can do more than that, Nico steps up behind us both, his gun drawn again.

“Don’t try anything else,” he warns, his voice so low and even that I know the threat is real. “Or you’ll regret it.”

I relent, going limp across Atlas’s shoulder as Killian steps up to walk alongside us and they all trudge through the forest.

When we get closer to the still-burning clubhouse, Nico climbs onto his bike, and Atlas deposits me on the back of it, right behind him.

“How am I supposed to hold on?” I demand, twisting my head to look at him.

He just shrugs. “You’ll figure it out. You’re smart enough.”

I grumble under my breath, gripping the back of Nico’s shirt as well as I can with my bound hands as Killian and Atlas mount up on their rides as well, leaving my bike where it is.

As we peel out and ride away from the clubhouse, I consider attempting to jerk Nico backward. Sending him flying onto the asphalt would surely put a damper on whatever plans he’s working up to use this secret about me to his advantage—whatever that secret may be.

The only thing that stops me from throwing my weight backward and trying to drag him off the bike is the fact that that would send me flying too, and I’m not exactly in the kind of condition someone should be in if they plan to do daredevil shit on the back of a motorcycle.

I’m exhausted, and the bullet wound in my shoulder hurts like hell.

Even if I managed to get off the bike, there’s no way I’d get far before the men dragged me back again.

So for now, I behave and bide my time. The roar of the motorcycle’s engine cuts through the night, and I try not to think about the other times I’ve been on the back of Nico’s bike, or how he and the others got me a bike of my own after our wedding.

I remember being surprised and strangely touched by the gesture at the time, but when I look back on it now, everything is colored in a different light.

Every little moment that pushed me and the Princes closer together was carefully orchestrated, either by the Princes themselves or by The Saint—whoever the fuck that is—as a way to get me off my guard.

I hold on tightly to the anger and bitterness that burn in the back of my throat, because I know they’re the only things that are going to keep me alive going forward.

Eventually, we roll up to the front of my house, and my eyebrows furrow as Nico cuts the engine.

I’m actually surprised the men are ballsy enough to bring me to this location while they’ve got me tied up like this.

It’s late at night by now, but still, if anyone from Enigma decided to come by my house right now, what would the Princes do?

How would they try to explain away the very obvious fact that I’m their prisoner?

Then again… maybe they think so little of my gang that they’re not really worried about sparking a war between Enigma and Carnage.

As that thought sours in my mind, I’m jerked off Nico’s bike by Atlas. Once more, I’m slung over his broad shoulders, and his arms lock around my legs, keeping them pinned in place.

Seems he’s learned his lesson.

Moving quickly and efficiently, they carry me inside under the cover of darkness.

From my upside down vantage point, I can see the foyer of the large house I inherited from my father.

Just days ago, before everything came to light, this house wasn’t just a building with four walls and four occupants—it was a home.

A home where I was starting to think that maybe we could build something real.

What a load of shit that turned out to be.

As they haul me through the house, I can’t help but think about all the moments we’ve had in here. Atlas making me food in the kitchen. Nico and Atlas having their way with me in the living room. Killian dropping that bag of hands on the kitchen table?—

Lies.

All of it.

As we head toward the back of the house, I realize where they’re taking me: the basement. It doesn’t get much use these days, but my father used to occasionally conduct interrogations down there.

Guess it’s kind of ironic that the Princes of Carnage are about to use it for the same purpose.

Killian flips on the light, and Atlas carries me down the stairs before setting me down on a chair situated near the back wall.

Atlas glances around, his eyes zeroing in on the shelving to the left. I left this room pretty much as my father left it, and there are a variety of restraints and weapons lined up neatly on the shelves. He seems to eye the collection appreciatively as he grabs a length of rope there.

“Aw, you’re gonna tie me up? Kinky,” I mutter hoarsely as he ties the rope around me, securing me to the chair.

He glares at me but says nothing.

While Atlas busies himself with restraint duty, I glance over to see what the others are doing. Killian has retreated to the shadows, watching but saying nothing as is his usual habit. But even though he’s as silent as a shadow, I can see the glint of his dark green eyes as they study me intently.

I shiver, unable to stop the visceral reaction.

Tearing my gaze away from him, I search for Nico. He’s standing off to the side, his cell phone pressed to his ear as he runs a hand through his dark brown hair, leaving the strands messy and unkempt.

“Let everyone know the active threat is over.” He pauses to listen, his expression hard, then says, “Yeah. There was an attack on the clubhouse. Whole thing was set on fire. As far as we can tell, no one was hurt.”

There’s another pause as Nico listens to whatever the person on the other end of the call is saying, and his eyes cut to me.

“Yeah, we know who did it.”

My stomach tightens into a knot, a chill rushing over my skin. This is it. The moment when every person from the lowest rung to the highest point of the ladder in the Princes of Carnage motorcycle club will know just who fucked their whole operation into the dirt.

This is my death sentence.

But the words that come out of Nico’s mouth shock me.

“Silas started the fire, but we caught him in the act and killed him. His body is laid out in the woods near the clubhouse. Have someone clean it up and get rid of it—discreetly. And move fast. We don’t need someone tracing his sorry ass back to us.”

I stare at Nico, doing my best to keep the surprise from showing on my face. He and his two best friends taking me hostage was pretty much a given, considering what I did. But them covering for me? Hiding what I did and blaming it on someone else? That wasn’t what I anticipated at all.

As if he can sense my confusion, Nico ends the call and then comes to stand in front of me, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“You’re lucky as hell, mia cara. If you were anyone else, you’d get a public execution, Carnage style. But we need time to figure out what the hell our next step is going to be, and while we’re working that out, we don’t need your little Enigma friends on our asses.”

My jaw clenches. Of course. He’s not protecting me. He’s protecting himself and his own people .

I huff a humorless laugh, glaring at him defiantly. “So you’re pussies. Good to know.”

Nico grips my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“While we solve this little mystery about your worth, we don’t need the distraction of your people coming after us, trying to defend their queen.

It’s called strategy. Something your father clearly never taught you enough about, or you wouldn’t have done something as fucking reckless and suicidal as what you did tonight. ”

He releases his hold on my chin suddenly, and I bite at his retreating fingers as he pulls them away, just to be an asshole.

“You keep that shit up, and you won’t have teeth,” he warns. “Then again, maybe that’ll be a good down payment for what you cost us when you decided to burn our club to the ground. I hear there are psychos out there who will pay a pretty penny for something as fucked up as a good set of teeth.”

“I don’t see why you’re so bent out of shape,” I snap, my anger boiling over. “You brought this on yourselves.”

“We didn’t do nearly the same level of shit as what you pulled tonight.”

“Right, of course not. All you did was betray your vows, spy on me, spill my secrets to some shadow man and use me?—”

“They’re hardly the same thing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I explode, fuming. “I see it now. You’re not actually a loyal man. You’re just loyal to the people you care about, and I was never one of them.”

Nico’s head jerks back a little, almost as if I’ve scalded him. All expression slips from his face, all emotion gone. Not even the anger is left in his features, as if he’s shut off every bit of feeling that was pouring through him a second ago.

Maybe I’ve struck a nerve calling him on his shit. Good .

The basement goes quiet for a long second, neither of us looking away from each other. Then Nico sighs and shakes his head.

“Ti sarei stato leale. Ti avrei dato tutto. Chiaramente questo non doveva essere. Forse in un’altra vita, mia cara.”

He tears his eyes away from me, jerking his head to Killian.

“I’m done down here. Get that bullet out her shoulder. I want her at her best for what’s to come.”

I swallow, bracing myself.

Something tells me he isn’t prepping me for anything good.