Bonds of Obsession (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #3)

1. Quinn

1

QUINN

I’m holding the phone so tightly that my knuckles have gone white. My hand is starting to tremble from the barely-contained rage that keeps threatening to rise up. It’s like bile in my throat, and it’s all thanks to the fucker on the other end of the line.

Ambrose.

The Saint.

The sadistic mastermind who has been pulling our strings as if we’re his little puppets for way too fucking long. And now his words keep replaying over and over again in my head.

“Tick tock, Quinn. What’s it going to be? Your precious marker, or Atlas’s life?”

He’s using Atlas as a bargaining chip, dangling his life in front of me like a carrot on a stick. All so I can somehow get him into the Dark Lotus Syndicate.

I look over to meet Killian and Nico’s hard stares. Their jaws are clenched, and I can easily see the anger in their eyes—anger that only barely covers the concern for the friend who is close enough to be considered a brother. They know what’s at stake, what Ambrose is asking of me. But they also know how impossible his demand is.

Even if I knew how to use the marker that’s been cleverly hidden in the ink of my shoulder tattoo, the Syndicate is the last group I’d want to be associated with. There’s a reason why my father never used the marker for himself—but there’s also a reason why he passed it on to me.

I haven’t fully figured out either of those reasons, and this smug son of a bitch isn’t making things any easier.

“Time is running out, Quinn. I’m a busy man. What’s your decision going to be?”

I hate him, and I’m only getting angrier—and more worried about Atlas—every time he speaks. I can’t hold back all that anger anymore. Don’t even want to try.

“Listen here, you sadistic fuck,” I snarl into the phone. “If you lay one more finger on Atlas, I swear I’ll fucking kill you myself. You’ve messed with the wrong person today, you son of a bitch. You hear me? I’ll hunt you down and make you wish you’d never crossed my fucking path.”

My chest is heaving as I finish shouting into the phone. For a moment, there’s complete silence on the other end of the line. Then, just as I think I might have gotten through to him, a blood-curdling yell makes me jump out of my skin.

Atlas.

The sound of his pain rips through me like a knife, and I feel the blood drain from my face. Killian and Nico jump to their feet, their instincts to protect so strong that their hands are already on their guns.

“Stop!” I yell into the phone, my voice cracking. “Stop hurting him!”

But Atlas’s cries continue, each one driving home just how powerless I am in this situation. Ambrose has us right where he wants us, and he knows it.

The sound of Atlas’s screams cuts off abruptly, leaving a silence that’s just as deafening. My heart is pounding in my ears as I wait for Ambrose or Atlas or someone to say something.

“You disappoint me, Quinn.” Ambrose says after what feels like forever. Some of the smugness is gone from his voice now, and there’s no mistaking the sharpness in his tone for anything other than deadly. “Did you really think threats would work on me? I’m the one holding all the cards here.”

I hate that he’s right. I have enough sense to know it, though, so I bite my tongue, knowing that needling Ambrose will only make things worse for Atlas.

“Let me make something crystal clear,” he continues. “It would be my fucking pleasure to kill Atlas after he and the other Princes went back on their word to work for me. The only reason he’s still breathing is because he’s useful.”

My stomach drops at the casual way he talks about killing Atlas. I’ve done business with men like Ambrose for years—long enough to know when they’re bluffing.

He’s not bluffing.

I glance at Killian and Nico again, and their ashen faces mirror everything I’m feeling right now.

“But make no mistake,” Ambrose keeps going before I have a chance to say anything else. “If you refuse to bargain, then Atlas will no longer be useful to me. And we both know what happens to things that aren’t useful anymore, don’t we?”

With that threat hanging in the air, I close my eyes for a moment, hoping for some clarity. Praying I’ll open them again and wake up from this fucking nightmare. But I’m not dreaming this time. This isn’t a hallucination from the drugs that son of a bitch injected me with. Ambrose has backed us into a corner, and he knows it.

I open my eyes again as the words tumble out in a desperate rush. I can’t let him hurt Atlas any more than he already has.

“Wait! Ambrose, stop. I… I don’t know how to get you into the Dark Lotus Syndicate. I swear, I don’t even know how to use the marker.”

Not only is it the absolute truth, but it also happens to be a good excuse to buy us some more time. Maybe there’s still another way to get to Atlas. Maybe we won’t need to use the marker after all. I just need a few more days. Hours, even.

But Ambrose isn’t going for it.

“Oh, Quinn. You’re a clever girl. I knew that much before I even met you. Turns out you’re too fucking clever for your own good. So if I were you, I’d use that pretty little brain to figure it out. Quickly.”

I swallow hard as I look down at the three marks on my chest.

Nico’s, Killian’s, and Atlas’s. They’ve each claimed me with these marks, but these men—my men—belong to me just as much as I belong to them.

My fingers trace over Atlas’s mark, and it’s hard to believe how far we’ve come. From enemies to lovers to enemies again, and now… something more. Something that makes my chest tight and my breath catch when I think about anyone hurting him.

The attack at the tattoo parlor caught all of us off guard, but Atlas fought like he was possessed. Like he was made of fucking steel.

The look on his face in those last seconds is seared into my mind. The intensity and the raw emotion still take my breath away.

He sacrificed himself so we could have a few more precious seconds to get out alive. None of us would’ve left him under normal circumstances, but I was barely conscious.

The last thing I remember seeing before passing out was Atlas, standing his ground against Ambrose’s men.

He risked his life for me. After everything we’ve been through, all the betrayal and heartache, he still chose to protect me.

And now he might die because of that selfless choice.

The thought makes it hard to breathe, and I have to force myself to loosen my grip on the phone. I can’t let Ambrose know how much this is affecting me, how much power he truly holds over me right now.

“Okay,” I say, simply. “I’ll do it. I’ll get you into the Dark Lotus Syndicate.”

I can almost hear the smirk in Ambrose’s voice. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Smart girl.”

“But I need time. I don’t even know how to contact them. This isn’t something I can just snap my fingers and make happen.”

“You have five days.” His tone is hard again, and it’s clear he doesn’t intend to bargain. “I think that’s more than generous, considering the circumstances.”

My stomach drops. Five days is impossible. Ambrose might not want to bargain, but I have to at least try. I owe it to Atlas to give him the best possible chance at surviving until I can figure out what the fuck we need to do.

“That’s not enough time.” I exhale, then draw in another sharp breath. “Give me at least a full week. Please. Two would be even better.”

“Five days. Not a minute more.”

I open my mouth to argue again, but he cuts me off.

“I’m not fucking around with you, Quinn. You have until midnight on the fifth day to make the arrangements. If I don’t hear from you by then, Atlas dies. It’s as simple as that.”

My throat tightens, and I struggle to form words. “But?—”

“No buts,” Ambrose interrupts. “Five days. Tick tock.”

The line goes dead, leaving me sitting here with the phone pressed to my ear, listening to nothing but my own chaotic thoughts.

I drop the phone, and my hand starts shaking uncontrollably as everything washes over me all at once. The weight of the situation, the impossible task ahead, the danger Atlas is in—it all crashes down like a tidal wave, ready to drown me.

But then another realization hits, and it feels like all the oxygen is immediately sucked out of the room.

Emmett.

He’s the only person who overheard us talking about the marker hidden in my tattoo, the only one who knew besides me and my three men. He must’ve run right from my office to the phone so he could sell me out to The Saint. To Ambrose.

I’ve been betrayed before, but this one hurts. This one is going to stick with me for a long time.

“Emmett,” I whisper under my breath, more to myself than to Nico or Killian. Even saying his name out loud feels wrong, like a curse.

Nico’s jaw clenches as his own rage starts to boil over. “That slimy fucker. Goddamn traitor.”

Killian nods. “We shouldn’t have trusted him. Not with something like this.”

He’s right, of course. They’re both right. But how could I not trust Emmett? He’s been with me since the beginning. He’s my—was my—second-in-command. My right fucking hand.

Even now, the thought of him selling me out feels almost inconceivable. But that’s exactly what happened. What other explanation could there be?

Fuck this.

Fuck all of this.

I surge out of bed, ignoring how wobbly my legs feel beneath me. I don’t know where I’m going, but I can’t just sit here anymore. I have to do something. Anything.

Every part of my body is protesting as I stumble toward the door. Every muscle is aching and weak, but I have more than enough anger and adrenaline built up to overcome such petty things as unsteady legs and sore muscles.

“Quinn, wait!” Killian calls out, but I ignore him.

I’m halfway down the hall when strong arms wrap around my waist, stopping me in my tracks. I struggle against the hold, my fists pounding against whoever is restraining me.

“Let me go!” I scream. “I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“Quinn, stop!” Nico’s voice cuts through my rage. “You can’t just run out there!”

Somewhere in my head, I know he’s probably right. But I’m way past the point of reason. All I can see is red. All I can think about is getting my hands on Ambrose and making him pay for everything he’s done.

“I’ll kill him!” I yell, still fighting against the arms that are like a vise grip around me. “I swear, I’ll fucking kill him!”

Killian moves in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. “Quinn, listen to me. We can’t just charge in there blindly. We need a plan.”

I try to shove past him, but he doesn’t budge. “Fuck the plan! He has Atlas! We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

“We’re not doing nothing,” Nico insists, his voice firm but somehow gentle at the same time. “But getting yourself killed isn’t going to help Atlas.”

Their words are finally starting to penetrate the red haze, but I’m still shaking with anger and fear. The frustration is forming a lump in my throat as I finally stop struggling.

I collapse against Nico’s chest, my anger finally giving way to despair. The fight drains out of me as quickly as it came, leaving me feeling hollow and weak.

“We can’t just leave him there,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “We have to do something.”

Killian’s hands move from my shoulders to cup my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are intense, filled with the same determination that I can feel coursing through my veins.

“We will do something, siren. I promise you that. But we need to be smart about this. Running in there half-cocked is only going to get us all killed, and then who’s going to save Atlas?”

His logic is on point, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. My chest, my heart, feels like it’s being squeezed and squeezed until I can hardly breathe.

“He’s suffering,” I choke out. “Right now, while we’re standing here, Atlas is suffering. Ambrose is torturing him.”

Nico’s arms tighten around me. “We know, mia cara. And it’s killing us too. But we have to trust that Atlas is strong. He can hold on until we figure this out.”

The dam finally breaks. All the fear, anger, and helplessness I’ve been holding back comes rushing out in a flood of tears. I turn in Nico’s arms, burying my face in his chest as sobs wrack my body.

“It’s okay,” Nico murmurs, holding me tight while his hand strokes my hair. “Let it out. We’ve got you.”

Killian moves in closer, sandwiching me between them. These two men are the only things in my life keeping me from completely falling apart, and I don’t even have the words to tell them how much they mean to me.

As I cry, my mind can’t help but conjure up images of Atlas. Is he scared? Is he in pain? The thought of him suffering alone, wondering if he’s going to die there, makes my chest tighten even more.

“We’ll get him back,” Killian says firmly, as if he’s reading my thoughts. “Whatever it takes, we’ll bring him home.”