6. Quinn
6
QUINN
I blink slowly, my body still humming with aftershocks as I come down from the intense high. Every inch of me feels raw, used, and completely satisfied. As my vision clears, I catch Killian’s eye and see something there that makes me pause.
There’s a hint of doubt or uncertainty that doesn’t belong. I know that look. It’s a look I’ve seen plenty of times over the years—even in the mirror from time to time—but never on him.
And that’s what has me worried.
“Hey,” I rasp, my throat still sore from all the begging and shouting and sobbing. I reach out so my fingers can brush his arm, just to give him whatever small reassurance I can. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Talk to me.”
Killian’s jaw clenches. “I went too far, siren. Lost control. I shouldn’t have?—”
“Stop,” I cut him off, struggling to sit up. My body protests, but I ignore it. “Look at me, Killian.”
When he meets my eyes again, I can see the full force of the guilt that’s swimming there. It makes my chest ache for him.
“I needed that,” I tell him firmly. “All of it. The roughness, the intensity. I needed to feel… god, I don’t know. Like you and Nico are as fucked up as I am. That I’m not alone in this insanity.”
He shoots me a questioning look, but I’m not sure whether he’s doubting my words or his own inner voice. Regardless, I keep going.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I wanted you to fuck me like that. To treat me like that. I asked for it—begged for it—and it was exactly what I needed.”
I reach out, cupping his face in my hands. “We’re all a little broken, Killian. A little fucked up. And sometimes, we need to let that out. To feel it. To know we’re not alone in it.”
I see the tension start to leave his shoulders, the doubt in his eyes slowly fading.
“You gave me that. You and Nico both. So don’t you dare feel bad about it.”
I watch as Killian’s expression shifts, the guilt slowly giving way to concern. He leans in so his hand can skim over my cheek.
“Are you sure?” he asks in that low, rumbling tone that does something to my insides every damn time I hear it. “Really sure?”
I nod, closing my eyes and leaning into his touch. “I am. I needed this—needed you both—to get me out of my own head. To escape this constant fucking pain that’s been eating away at me.”
Opening my eyes again, I see the first signs of understanding on his face. It’s like he’s finally seeing the full picture, like he can finally relate.
“The nightmares, the memories… they never really stop,” I continue. “But for a little while, you two pushed them to the back of my mind. You gave me something else to focus on, something intense enough to drown out all the noise in my head.”
Killian nods slowly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my skin. It’s such a difference from the roughness from earlier, but I’m taking the same sort of comfort from this lighter, gentler touch.
“I think I understand.” He looks thoughtful for a moment, as if he’s weighing each word before it comes out. “We all have our demons, don’t we?”
I feel movement on my other side and find myself smiling at the feel of Nico’s warm, solid body resting against me. They’re both naked, just like me, but there’s nothing sexual about it for the time being. What they’re giving me now is pure comfort, a physical reminder that I’m not alone.
Killian and Nico exchange a look over my shoulder, some unspoken communication passing between them. Then, as if they’d planned it, they both pull me close and sandwich me between their hard bodies.
I let out a shaky breath, feeling safe and grounded in a way I haven’t in far too long. Killian’s arms hug my waist while Nico’s wrap around my shoulders. Their touches are gentle, careful, as if they’re handling something precious.
The quiet stretches on for a while, but it’s not uncomfortable. Then Killian’s deep voice breaks the silence.
“I told you about how I killed my mom,” he says, his words low but clear. “After that, I was on the streets. For years, I did whatever I had to do to survive. Lying, stealing, fighting… it didn’t matter. I didn’t care about anyone or anything except staying alive.”
His voice takes on a distant tone, as if he’s reliving those rough memories. I reach out and place my hand over his.
“I didn’t know what family meant. Didn’t understand the concept of having people who cared about you, who’d have your back no matter what. It was just me against the world.”
He pauses, and I feel Nico shift his weight so he can make full eye contact with Killian. Even silently, I know they support each other a hundred percent.
“Then I met Nico and Atlas,” Killian continues. “They… they changed everything. For the first time in my life, I had people who gave a damn about me. Who saw me as more than just a means to an end.”
I feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath.
“They showed me what it meant to have a family. To belong somewhere. To have people you’d do anything for, and who’d do the same for you. It wasn’t easy at first. I didn’t trust it, didn’t know how to handle it. But they were patient. They taught me what it meant to care about more than just saving my own ass.”
My heart tightens painfully in my chest as I take in everything he’s just said.
“You asked me once,” he says, “if I knew what it was like to love someone enough to miss them when they’re gone.”
I nod, a lump forming in my throat as the conversation comes back to me.
“I obviously didn’t have that with my mother. Never knew my father. For most of my life, I didn’t know what that kind of love felt like.” He pauses, his grip on me tightening slightly. “But now? Losing Atlas would kill me.”
The simple honesty in his voice makes my breath catch.
“I get it,” I whisper. “I don’t think any of us would survive losing him.”
Nico’s arms tighten around me, and I feel him nod against my shoulder.
It’s a strange comfort, knowing that we’re all equally invested and equally at risk. We’ve all given pieces of ourselves to Atlas, just like we have to each other. The thought of losing any part of this unconventional family we’ve built is… unbearable.
I wake up slowly, giving my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the morning light before I open them completely. I’m disoriented for a moment, but then I feel the warmth of two hard, muscular bodies on either side of me.
Killian and Nico.
As I blink away the last traces of sleep, I’m hit by a wave of emotions. Gratitude, affection, and a rush of protectiveness wash over me as I look at their handsome, rugged faces.
Last night’s conversation replays in my mind, reminding me that it’s not just about the physical attraction or the thrill of danger anymore. We’ve become a unit, a sort of family, bound together by something a hell of a lot stronger than I ever imagined possible.
But as I lie here, sandwiched between these two incredible men, I can’t ignore the glaring absence. Atlas. The missing piece of our puzzle. The thought of him out there, tortured and probably near death, sends a jolt of determination through me.
I’m going to get Atlas back in one piece. That much I know for sure. It’s a vow I’m making to myself, and I intend to keep it.
Carefully, I pull myself up from between Killian and Nico. I’m trying not to wake them, but I should know better by now. They stir immediately as I slip out of bed, their eyes blinking open before my feet even hit the floor.
“Morning,” I offer, slipping on a long t-shirt to cover my naked body. “I’m gonna make some coffee, and then we need to talk.”
Killian sits up first, rubbing his face. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m going to get Atlas back. I’m giving Ambrose what he wants.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Nico asks, the skepticism clear in his tone. “We don’t even know how to use the marker that’s tattooed on you.”
I nod, conceding that he’s right. “That’s exactly why we need more information. About the tattoo, the Syndicate, Malcolm Mercer. He’s supposedly their leader, but we don’t know anything about him. We need to gather whatever info we can get our hands on. Which means we need to talk to Willow and her men again.”
Nico and Killian exchange a glance. They don’t need to say a word for me to tell how reluctant they are to go back there. But they don’t argue.
“Coffee first,” Nico says after a moment. “Then we’ll go pay Willow a visit.”
I nod, relieved that they aren’t giving me any pushback. Then again, it’s not like we really have any other choice. “Agreed. Let’s get dressed and head out soon.”
Less than an hour later, we’re on our bikes, speeding across the city toward the large warehouse where Willow and her men have made a home.
I’m the first one to pull up outside. There aren’t any signs of life visible from the exterior of the large, solid building, but I have no doubt that Willow’s men spotted me as soon as my front tire hit the property. Victor is a tech wizard, and I’m sure he’s got dozens of security cameras set up around the perimeter.
I kill the engine, and my boots hit the ground with a soft thud. Killian and Nico are at my sides in an instant, both of them sticking a little closer to me than usual.
As we approach the front door, I can feel their tension. Killian’s jaw is set, his eyes scanning our surroundings. Nico’s hand hovers near his waist, ready to draw his weapon at a moment’s notice.
I can’t blame them for not trusting anyone at this point, even friendly acquaintances. We’ve just been through too much.
I was right about us already having been spotted, because the door opens before we even reach it, and Willow steps out, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. Her brows furrow as she takes us in, her gaze lingering on the empty space where Atlas should be.
“Hi, Quinn,” she says. Her tone is casual, despite the slight aura of tension in the air. “It seems like you’re a man down.”
I swallow hard, fighting to keep my expression neutral. But I can feel my mask slipping as the worry for Atlas threatens to crack my composure.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “I am. And that’s… related to the reason I’m here. We need another favor.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, surprise crossing her delicate features. Since the first time I met her when she and the three Voronin brothers came to meet with my father at Blood and Ink, Willow has struck me as an incongruous mix of softness and steel. She’s sweet and gentle, but there’s something else beneath the surface that always made me certain that she’s as tough as I am on the inside.
That toughness is evident as she crosses her arms, cocking her head slightly. “Another one? You’re racking up quite a tab with us.”
I nod, acknowledging the truth in her words. “I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. But we have no one else to ask. It’s… about Atlas. He’s been taken.”
Some of the pain that’s crushing my chest leaks out in my words, and Willow’s expression shifts, empathy flashing through her eyes. She studies us for a long moment, her gaze flicking between me, Killian, and Nico. Finally, she sighs and steps aside.
“Come in. We’ll talk inside.”
Once we’re inside, it only takes a second to spot the Voronin brothers. All three of them stride into the foyer at the same time—the twins, Malice and Vic, and their younger brother, Ransom.
Malice is holding their adorable baby girl, Dayana, in his arms, and he and his brothers watch us with unreadable expressions, their postures relaxed but alert.
Willow glances at the three of them, some unspoken communication passing between them all. Then she leads us deeper into the warehouse and gestures for us to sit at a large table in an open area that looks like it probably serves as their dining room. As we settle onto our seats, I can see my men eyeing the brothers. There’s no open hostility, but the tension in the air is palpable.
“So,” Willow says, leaning forward on her elbows. “What’s this favor you need?”
I take another deep breath, steeling myself. “We need more information about the Dark Lotus Syndicate. Specifically, we need a way to contact Malcolm Mercer.”
The reaction is immediate. Willow’s eyes widen as Vic and Ransom exchange a loaded glance, and Malice shifts Dayana in his inked arms, his jaw tight.
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Vic asks, his voice low. “From the research I already did about that organization, you know how dangerous they are. You’d be better off staying far away from them.”
“That’s not an option.” I shake my head firmly. “No matter how dangerous it is, I need to talk to Malcolm Mercer.”
Malice’s eyes narrow as he studies me, and Ransom lets out a low whistle. Vic hasn’t blinked once since I mentioned the DLS, his gaze locked on me with an almost unnatural stillness. But I ignore all of them, focusing on Willow instead.
“Please,” I murmur quietly. “Anything you can dig up for us. Anything you can tell us would help. I have to talk to Malcolm. Atlas’s life depends on it.”
She reacts to that, her lips pursing slightly as a crease appears between her brows. I can feel her studying me, reading the desperation in my face, and I don’t try to hide it. We need their help, and I’m not above letting her see how badly we need it.
For a long moment, the room is silent, broken only by a soft sound from Dayana as she nuzzles closer to Malice’s broad chest in her sleep. Then Willow draws in a deep breath and turns to her three men.
“I think we need to help them,” she says quietly.
Malice shakes his head, his hard expression a complete contrast to the gentle way he’s holding their daughter. “No, Solnyshka. It’s not our problem. We’ve got enough on our plate.”
Vic nods in agreement, but Ransom chews on his lip thoughtfully, the piercing in his eyebrow glinting as his brows draw together.
“I know it’s not our problem,” Willow admits, rising from her seat and crossing toward Malice. She rests a hand on his arm. “But it’s not always about that. Sometimes it’s about helping a friend. Right?”
Malice grunts, his thumb stroking over Dayana’s chubby arm as he gazes down at Willow.
“Jesus. That fucking heart of yours.” There’s pride and adoration in his voice, and he leans down and kisses her hard. It’s not a deep kiss, but it’s so loaded with emotion that I look away, feeling almost voyeuristic for watching them. “You’re the best fucking person I know, Solnyshka. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. But getting involved with the Dark Lotus Syndicate… it’s not just dangerous. It could be suicide if shit goes sideways.”
Willow squeezes his arm, glancing between him and his brothers. “I know it could be risky, but Quinn will be taking on most of that risk. She just needs our help finding a way to get in touch with Malcolm Mercer. We can’t just sit by and do nothing. Jonah didn’t have to help us when we came to him, desperate and out of options. So even if we’ve technically paid off that debt already… we can’t just walk away from his daughter if she’s in as bad of a situation as we were. Everything we have, the life we’ve built together? We owe it to Jonah. That’s not something I can ever forget.”
As always, the mention of my father makes a familiar tightness build inside my chest. I fucking hate that he’s gone, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss him, but there’s a small rush of pride in the knowledge that he played such an important role in Willow and the Voronin brothers’ lives. He would be proud of that, I think.
And Willow’s words clearly hold weight with all of her men. One by one, the stiffness in their posture eases a bit, their expressions turning somber and serious.
Finally, Vic nods. “Alright. I’ll do some digging and see what I can find.”
Malice makes a noise in his throat, obviously not thrilled about this but not arguing. “Just research, right? We’ll help her find a way to contact this Malcolm guy, but we’re not getting any more involved than that.”
Willow beams at them, going up on her toes to press another kiss to Malice’s cheek before doing the same to Victor and Ransom. “That’s all I’m asking for now. Thank you.”
I draw in a shaky breath, relief spreading through me. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s a start.
“Thank you.” I echo her words, my own voice rough with emotion. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”