4. Quinn
4
QUINN
I’m not sure why or how, but I’m back at Blood and Ink. The air is so thick with smoke that I can hardly breathe, and the sound of gunfire is echoing through the building.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Over and over and over again.
I know I’m going to get shot if I don’t die of smoke inhalation first, but my mind isn’t on my own safety right now as I stumble and cough through the home away from home that’s become a battlefield.
“Atlas!” I scream, barely able to hear my own voice through all the chaos. “Where are you?”
The situation is getting worse with each passing second, and my anxiety is ratcheting up right alongside my adrenaline. I need to get to him and get out of here.
“Atlas!” I yell again as I round a corner. “Just tell me where?—”
I duck as a piece of debris goes flying past my head, but I don’t stop moving. Instead, I drop down to all fours where the smoke is thinner and begin crawling toward what sounds like the worst of the fighting.
He has to be here somewhere. I just need to get to him before it’s too late.
And then—as soon as that thought enters my head—I see him. His eyes are fixed on enemies I can’t see through the smoke, but there’s no mistaking the determined look on his face.
“Atlas!” I move to his side as quickly as I can.
“Quinn, get out of here!” he yells, lifting me to my feet and pushing me toward the exit as if I’m practically weightless.
“No!” I’m no match for him physically, but I dig my heels in anyway. “Not without you!”
The scene shifts as fragments of my memories start to blur together. Somewhere in my mind, I know this isn’t happening in real time, but the shot of adrenaline is the same now as it was then. The dual feelings of fear and desperation haven’t gone away. They’re still very real.
We’re running down a hallway now, and Atlas is shielding me with his body. I can hear footsteps behind us, getting closer.
“Atlas, please,” I beg, tugging at his sleeve. “You have to leave. Save yourself!”
He shakes his head, his eyes meeting mine with fierce intensity. “Not until you’re out of here. Not until you’re safe.”
“But they’ll kill you!”
Doesn’t he understand? Doesn’t he give a shit about his own life?
Atlas just shoots me that cocky grin of his, the one that usually makes my heart skip a beat. But now it only gives me a sinking, worried feeling deep in my stomach. “Then I’ll die protecting you.”
Something or someone is pulling me backward, and I stumble, my fingers slipping from Atlas’s sleeve. Panic surges through me as I realize I’m being carried away from him, that he really is determined to stay behind and die.
For me.
“No! Let me go!” I punch and kick, but it’s like fighting against steel bars.
Atlas turns to me, his eyes wide with fear—not for himself, but for me. “Quinn, I told you to get out of here! Run!”
But I can’t. I’m frozen in place, forced to watch as mercenaries emerge from the smoke, surrounding Atlas. Their guns are trained on him, and I don’t want to see whatever is going to happen next, but I can’t seem to make myself look away.
“Atlas!” I scream for what feels like the hundredth time, but it doesn’t do any good.
He opens his mouth to say something, but his words are cut off by a scream of agony. The sound shoots through me like an actual bullet. I’ve never heard Atlas scream like that before—never even imagined he could make such a blood-curdling sound.
“Stop it! Leave him alone!” I’m still fighting, still yelling, still doing everything I can to get back there and help him, but I’m not gaining any ground and his screams of pain haven’t stopped.
They’re echoing through the building, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in my skull. Each one feels like it’s tearing me apart from the inside.
The smoke seems to clear a little, and I can see someone else now. They’re getting closer and closer, but it takes me a few seconds to recognize the man’s silhouette.
Fucking Ambrose.
I can feel my own strength start to ebb as he walks up to Atlas with a big, shit-eating grin on his face.
“Well, well,” Ambrose’s smug tone makes me want to throw up. “Not so tough after all, hm?”
I watch in horror as Ambrose circles Atlas like a vulture, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. The mercenaries are holding Atlas down, and I can see the pain on his face, although I’m somewhat thankful I haven’t been able to see exactly what they’ve been doing to him.
“Let’s see how long you can keep up that tough guy act,” Ambrose sneers, nodding to one of his men.
The mercenary pulls out a wicked-looking knife, and my heart stops. Atlas’s eyes widen, but he sets his jaw, clearly determined not to show even an ounce of fear.
The first cut draws a strangled cry from his throat. It’s a sound that rips through me, and I start struggling all over again against whatever’s holding me back, kicking and clawing with everything I have.
“Stop it!” I scream, my voice sounding raw and desperate to my own ears. “Leave him alone, you fuckers!”
But they don’t stop. The knife flashes again and again, each stroke punctuated by Atlas’s agonized cries.
I fight harder, knowing he’s going to die if I don’t get to him soon. My nails dig into flesh—whose, I don’t know—and I hear a grunt of pain behind me. The grip on me loosens just a little, but it’s enough.
With a final, desperate lunge, I break free. I don’t hesitate, don’t think—I just move. My fists connect with faces, my elbows with ribs. I’m not fighting smart or clean. I’m just fighting to get through.
Ambrose’s men grab at me, but I slip past them. My focus is on Atlas, sprawled on the ground in front of me. I can’t hear him anymore, and that terrifies me more than anything.
Finally, I break through the last of the men standing in my way. My heart jumps when I see Atlas, then it drops just as quickly. He’s lying still on the ground, his eyes open but not blinking, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“No,” I whisper, dropping to my knees beside him. “No, no, no.”
I reach out with trembling hands, desperately searching for a pulse, for any sign of life. But there’s nothing. He’s dead.
I jerk awake, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. Adrenaline and grief flood my system as I push and pull against the hands that are trying to hold me down. In my mind, I’m still back there, still trying to get to Atlas, still desperate to save him.
“Let me go!” I scream, so hoarse that I can barely hear myself over the pounding in my head. “I have to—I need to?—”
My fists connect with something solid, and I hear a grunt. Good. I want to hurt them. I want to make them pay for what they did to Atlas.
“Quinn, stop!” A familiar voice cuts through the fog of my panic, but only for an instant. “You’re gonna hurt yourself!”
But I can’t stop. I won’t. They took him from me, and I’ll be damned if I let them get away with it.
I kick out, feeling my foot connect with something. There’s another grunt, and the grip on my arms loosens slightly. I use the opportunity to wrench one arm free, swinging wildly.
“Fuck!” Another voice, deeper this time. “Nico, hold her down!”
Nico? The name registers somewhere in my scrambled brain, but all I know is that I need to keep fighting.
“Mia cara, please!” Nico’s voice again, strained and pleading. “It’s us! It’s me and Killian!”
Killian? The names start to sink in, and reality begins to bleed through the nightmare. My movements slow, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision.
“That’s it,” Nico says, quietly reassuring me. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”
I focus on his face, hovering above mine. His eyes are wide with worry, and a bruise is already forming on his cheek where I must have hit him.
“Nico? What—where?—”
“You’re here with us,” Killian says from my other side. “At home. In bed. You were having another nightmare.”
But I don’t want to be safe. I don’t want to be comfortable. I want to hurt something—or someone. Anything to make the pain in my heart stop, even if it’s only for a little while.
“Let go of me!” I snarl, thrashing against him. “Both of you let go!”
I feel Killian’s presence as he moves in closer, wrapping his arms around me and trying to contain my flailing limbs. But it only makes me fight harder.
“We’re only trying to keep you from hurting yourself,” Killian warns, his voice strained with effort.
“Fuck if I care about that!” I know I sound crazy right now, and I don’t care about that either. “Maybe then I’ll feel something other than this goddamn pain!”
I twist and buck, using every ounce of strength I have. I don’t care if I bruise or break something. The physical pain would be a welcome distraction from the emotional agony that’s been tearing me apart.
Nico’s face is just inches from mine, and I can see the concern that’s weighing on him. Concern for me. For Atlas. He knows just as well as I do that we don’t have a plan to bring Atlas home. Not one that will actually work.
Our eyes lock, and for a moment, everything else fades away. Without thinking, I step forward, closing the gap between us until my lips crash against his.
I kiss him with a desperation I’ve never felt before, pouring all my pain and anger into it. He freezes for a moment, but then something in him shifts, and his lips press hard against mine, matching every bit of my force.
I can feel the wave of emotions radiating from him—grief, frustration, need—all mirroring the chaos inside of me. His hands come up to cradle my face, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me even closer.
Our kiss deepens, and I start to lose myself in it. It’s not gentle or loving—it’s as raw and primal as the storm raging inside both of us. I bite his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and he groans into my mouth.
My fingers are curled into his hair, scratching at his scalp, desperate to cling to him like a lifeline. His hands move down to grip my hips, pulling me roughly against him. I can feel his hard length through his jeans, pressing into my stomach.
A growing need is rising inside me—a burning, desperate need to connect with him, to feel something other than this never-ending pain. I scratch my nails down his back, needing to mark him, to claim him, to feel him under my fingertips.
“You don’t have to fight it anymore, mia cara,” he whispers, his lips trailing down my neck. “I’ve got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. I promise.”
His words are helping, but they’re not enough on their own. I press myself even closer to him. I can’t get enough of the friction and the heat, the feel of his body against mine.
“I need you inside me,” I beg, not even caring how desperate I sound. Because I am desperate. Desperate to fill the void that Atlas has left behind. “Fuck me, Nico. Please. Please.”
His eyes search my face, and I can feel the exact moment he understands. The tension leaves his body as he crushes me to him. His lips are bruisingly hard against mine, and his tongue thrusts into my mouth in a brutal, hungry kiss.
It’s exactly what I need, but it’s still not enough—and I’m pretty sure he realizes it at the same time I do.
He tears his mouth from mine and moves lower, nipping at my neck, then lower again, sucking and biting at my sensitive skin along the way. His hands are rough as they tear at the oversized t-shirt I was wearing to bed, leaving me in just my panties before he rips those away as well.
His hands are everywhere while Killian holds me in place against his own hard body. Between the two of them, I can feel those hot, rough hands cupping my breasts, stroking my thighs, holding me open wide and exposing me completely.
“Yeah, look at that pretty pussy,” Killian growls into my ear. “You want him to fuck you, siren? Want him to fuck that gorgeous pink pussy until you’re screaming his name?”
“God yes,” I answer without hesitating. “Fuck, yes. Please.”
And then, mercifully, Nico’s fingers are between my legs, stroking, teasing, already knowing exactly what I need to push me over the edge. I cry out, my head falling back as he pushes me to the brink, and then pulls back before I can fall.
“Please,” I beg again, so worked up I can hardly stand it. “I need you, Nico. Now.”
He growls, low and animalistic as he tears at his own clothes, pulling away just long enough to toss his shirt and jeans aside.
This is it. He’s finally going to give me what I want, what I’ve been begging to have. Killian anchors me as Nico pushes into me, deep and hard, exactly how I need it.
With Killian behind me, supporting me on my side, Nico is free to take my leg, hike it over his hip, and thrust into me even harder. It’s just what I’ve been craving, and it takes everything in me not to shatter right here and now. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, wanting to draw this out as long as possible.
Nico’s mouth crashes back down on mine in a desperate, hungry kiss as he starts to move, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back into me with a force that takes my breath away.
“That’s it, mia cara,” he grunts between kisses. “Take it all. Every fucking inch.”
His cock stretches me, pounding into me with a force that makes the bed shake as he fills me completely. Every thrust pushes me higher, making my vision blur and my heart race.
Still, I want more. Need more.
“More,” I beg, echoing my own thoughts. “Harder, Nico. Fuck me harder.”
I grope blindly behind me, searching for Killian. My hand connects with his thigh, and I reach up, wrapping my hand around his cock and urging him closer.
“You want me too, siren?” Killian’s deep voice rumbles in my ear, sending a fresh jolt of liquid heat to pool in my core. “You want me to fuck you too?”
“Yes,” I nod, nearly frantic now that he’s given voice to what I really, truly need. “Both of you. Fuck me, please.”