Bonds of Obsession (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #3)

7. Quinn

7

QUINN

Vic leads us all upstairs, and I watch as he settles in front of a bank of computers in what looks like some kind of command room, his fingers flying over the keyboard. The soft clacking fills the tense silence between everyone as my men stand behind me, their arms crossed and their attention focused on Vic. Malice and Ransom hover nearby, their eyes darting between the screen and us.

Willow is standing in the doorway, and after a few moments, she steps forward and takes the sleeping baby from Malice’s arms.

“Quinn,” she says quietly, glancing at me and then jerking her chin toward the door. “Can we talk while Vic works?”

I nod and step away from my men to follow her, giving them a reassuring look as I go. It might not be obvious to people who don’t know them as well as I do by now, but I can tell that Killian and Nico are both on edge, their muscles taut like wire. Even surrounded by people who have shown themselves to be our friends—or at least friendly—they aren’t taking anything for granted.

But then, I guess we’ve been fooled before. That’s why we’re here now, thanks to Ambrose’s double-crossing bullshit.

Willow leads me downstairs, and I glance around at the warehouse space as we go, momentarily pulled out of the worries cascading through my head as I take in the space. It’s large and open, the kind of building that could easily feel cold, but there’s a comfortable, lived-in vibe to it. They’ve truly turned it into a home.

“What happened with Atlas?” Willow asks as we settle onto the couch in the living room, cradling Dayana in the crook of her arm.

My stomach twists into a knot. I figured that question would be coming at some point, but it still makes me wince a little to hear his name.

“We were ambushed,” I say in a low voice, trying to decide how much is safe to divulge. “By… an old enemy of my father’s, in a way. He and his men took Atlas, and it has something to do with the Dark Lotus Syndicate.”

Willow’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t interrupt me. So I continue, carefully choosing my words. “We’re not sure where they’ve taken him, but I need to make contact with the Syndicate if I want to have a chance in hell of getting him back. According to what Vic told us last time he did research on that organization, Malcolm is their leader. So any new information we can find out about him will be helpful at this point. If we can’t track him down, Atlas will die.”

I feel my throat tighten as I speak. It’s one thing to have these dark thoughts running through my mind twenty-four-seven. It’s a whole other fucking thing to say them out loud. It makes us look weak, like we can’t take care of our own, and that’s never a good thing.

But there’s no getting around the fact that Atlas is gone, and we’re grasping at straws.

Willow must see the struggle in my eyes because she reaches out, resting a comforting hand on my arm.

“You’ll get him back, Quinn,” she says softly. “Vic will come up with something.”

I nod, not fully trusting myself to say much more. Even if I wanted to talk, to tell her the whole fucked up story, I’m not sure I could get any more words out past the thick fucking lump in my throat. The one that always seems to appear at the mention of Atlas’s name.

“Thanks.” I swallow hard and force a half-smile. It’s the least I can do to acknowledge the fact that they’re putting their asses on the line for us. “We appreciate the help, truly. It won’t be forgotten.” I huff out a humorless laugh. “Atlas was my enemy, once upon a time. But now…” I blink, my eyes stinging. “I’d do fucking anything to get him back.”

Willow nods. She opens her mouth to say something, but then her attention shifts to Dayana, who’s starting to fuss. I watch her coo softly to the little girl, bouncing her gently in her arms, as I try to wrestle my emotions back under control. After a minute or so, Dayana lets out a little sigh and goes back to sleep. Willow gazes at her daughter for a heartbeat, then looks back up at me, a wistful expression on her face.

“I don’t know if this will help at all, but… I get it,” she says softly. “This whole situation reminds me of how things were for me at first.”

I frown at her, curious. “What do you mean?”

She kisses the top of her sleeping daughter’s head as a faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “With Malice, Vic, and Ransom. When I first met the three of them, I thought they were the enemy. I was convinced I could never care for them, let alone love them.”

Her words hit close to home. She might as well be describing the way I felt about Atlas, Nico, and Killian in the beginning—until suddenly, I didn’t. In spite of everything that’s gone wrong lately, there was a lot that felt really fucking right when the four of us were together.

“But then,” she continues, “everything changed. It happened so fast, I barely realized what was going on at the time. But one day I woke up and knew I couldn’t live without them. It was like a switch had flipped in my brain. Or maybe it came on slowly, but I was too busy insisting on keeping walls up between us to notice that they’d already slipped past those walls and straight into my heart.”

Shit, is she trying to make me cry? I clear my throat, wiping the back of my hand over my eyes as I glance away. “Yeah,” I say roughly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Willow rests a hand on my arm, and when I look back at her, I see understanding in her gaze. “That’s why I know you’ll find Atlas,” she murmurs. “When you love someone that deeply, giving up isn’t an option.”

“You’re right. It’s just…” I trail off, struggling to find the words. “I never expected to feel all of this, you know? These emotions, they’re so fucking intense sometimes. All the time.”

My voice breaks, and I hate how vulnerable I sound. But there’s no judgment in Willow’s eyes as she chuckles softly, nodding. “I get that.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do if Atlas dies because of me,” I admit quietly, to myself as much as to her. “It’s my fault he’s in this fucked up mess. If I hadn’t gotten involved with him and the rest of the Princes…”

Willow shifts Dayana to her other hip, her eyes soft with empathy. “It’s not your fault. But it’s hard, isn’t it? Having your heart live outside of your body like that.”

I nod, unable to say anything else for a moment while I pull myself back together.

She looks down at her daughter, a soft smile curving her lips. “But you know what? It’s worth it.” Her finger traces Dayana’s chubby cheek. “This little one… those three men upstairs… they’re my everything. The risk? The fear? It’s all worth it. Even though there were plenty of moments when I thought I couldn’t push through, I’d do it all over again if I knew it would lead me here.”

“I hope you’re right,” I murmur, my eyes drifting toward the stairs as I think of the two men up there with the Voronin brothers—and the one who’s missing, his absence like a hole in my heart. “I really fucking hope that you’re right.”

She starts to say something else, but a loud beeping sound suddenly rings out from the kitchen area. We both jump, and her eyes go wide as we look toward the sound at the same time. For a split-second, she looks as confused as I feel. Then she jumps into action.

“Oh shit, the bread!” Without hesitation, she passes Dayana into my arms. “Here, hold her for a sec. I’ll be right back.”

Before I can fully register what’s happening, I find myself cradling the little girl, who wakes up as I awkwardly adjust her in my arms. Dayana blinks up at me with big, curious eyes, and I freeze, unsure of what to do. I haven’t been around babies much, and holding one feels completely foreign.

“Uh, hey there, cutie,” I mumble, bouncing her a little. Dayana coos, reaching up to pat my face with her chubby hand. The whole situation is awkward beyond belief, but I can’t help smiling. Awkward or not, she’s pretty damn adorable.

Willow rushes back into the room a moment later, flour dusting her cheeks. “Crisis averted,” she announces with a grin. “Sorry about that. I’ve been trying to perfect this sourdough recipe for weeks.”

I nod, still focused on not dropping the baby in my arms. She’s so fucking small. “No worries. We’re, uh, we’re getting along just fine here.”

Willow laughs, her brown eyes softening as she watches us. “You’re a natural. Who would’ve thought?”

“Yeah, right.” I snort, even though I’m still smiling. “This is definitely not my usual gig.”

“Well, you’re doing great. Actually, do you mind holding her for a second longer? I’ve been meaning to pick up a little, and she gets fussy if I do it while I’m holding her.”

“Sure.” I nod, trying not to look terrified. I’m a badass gang leader, for fuck’s sake. I’ve fought men twice my size and won. A baby shouldn’t be scarier than that.

As Willow bustles around, tidying up some toys scattered on the floor, I watch her, struck suddenly by how… normal it all is. Domestic. Sweet, even. It’s a far cry from the chaos and danger that’s become my daily life.

“This is nice,” I comment, gesturing with my chin since I don’t dare disturb my grip on Dayana. “Your life here, I mean. It seems peaceful.”

Willow’s gaze follows mine, her delicate features lighting up. “It really is nice. I never thought I’d have this kind of life, but I love it more than I can say. Malice, Vic, and Ransom are all amazing fathers, and they make me feel so adored, every single day.”

She flushes a little as she speaks, and given the hungry way I’ve seen all three of her men look at her, I have a good idea exactly how they make her feel ‘adored.’ I can’t help but chuckle at that. It’s clear there’s a lot more going on behind closed doors than she’s letting on.

I can relate to that too.

“I hope you’ll have something like this for yourself someday,” Willow adds, her voice gentle. “If that’s what you want, I mean. Peace and quiet, a family… it’s not impossible, you know.”

I look down at Dayana, still nestled in my arms, and for a moment, I let myself imagine it. A life like this with Nico, Killian, and Atlas. Maybe even kids. It’s a nice dream, but I’m not sure how we’ll ever get from here to there.

I’m honestly not certain it’s possible.

“Part of me wants that,” I admit, surprising myself as the words tumble out. “With them. But we have to survive this mess first.”

She nods firmly. “You will. I believe that.”

Before I can respond, Ransom appears on the stairs, motions for us. “Vic’s got something,” he announces.

Willow quickly takes Dayana from me, and we head back upstairs where everyone is gathered around the bank of computers.

“What did you find?” I ask Victor, terrified to know but anxious to find out.

“A bit, but not a lot. I wish I had more to tell you,” he begins. “All of the DLS members seem to be incredibly good at staying off the radar. There wasn’t a lot I could dig up on Malcolm at first. He’s got all of his business interests hidden behind shell companies. But I did find something, and I was able to dig up a bit more about the Society too.”

“Whatever you’ve got, we’ll take it,” I say immediately. “Even the smallest details could help.”

He nods, scrolling through lines of text on his screen. “Last time I researched the Dark Lotus Society for you, I found out that it’s not your typical criminal organization. It’s more of a collective. Each person has their own separate interests, but they’ve banded together for mutual benefit and protection.”

“Right.” I nod, glancing between him and the computer screen. “I remember that.”

“Malcolm Mercer is definitely their leader,” he continues. “Whether in name or not, he’s the one who calls the shots. But it seems as though each member is free to pursue their own business interests for the most part, while also owing allegiance to and having the backing of the entire Syndicate.”

I frown, tugging at my lower lip. “I remember that too. But how does that work in the real world, exactly?”

Vic’s piercing blue eyes light up slightly, like I’ve asked the perfect question. “That’s where it gets interesting. Here’s a new piece of information I uncovered: each member is entitled to call in three favors from the entire Syndicate. They call it a ‘votum’—which is Latin for ‘vow.’”

“Three favors,” Nico muses. “Huh. I guess limiting it like that forces them to choose wisely.”

“And probably prevents any single member from getting too powerful, too quickly,” Killian adds.

“Anything else?” I press, hoping for more. “Did you find a way for us to contact Malcolm?”

“I think so.” Vic leans back a bit. “Like I said, he’s practically a ghost, with multiple barriers between his name and any of the businesses he controls. But I managed to track down one. He owns a place called Noctura—as of a couple of years ago, at least. It’s an upscale spa and bathhouse in the city.”

“Must be a front.” Killian crosses his arms, his fingers drumming over his biceps. “Places like that are perfect for hiding all sorts of illegal activities.”

I nod. It’s still not much, but it’s something concrete we can work with. If Malcolm owns the place, he’ll be keeping tabs on it. Which means I can use it to reach out to him.

It’s more than we had an hour ago. Hell, more than we had five minutes ago.

“Thank you, Victor,” I say, then turn to the others. “Thank you all. This is… it means a lot. We truly appreciate it.”

Nico and Killian nod in agreement, some of the tension finally leaving their shoulders for the first time since we arrived.

“We owe you one,” Killian adds. There isn’t any particular warmth in his tone, but it’s not quite as gruff as it was when we got here.

Malice shrugs, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Consider us even. Like Willow said, your father helped us out of a tight spot. Probably saved our lives. It’s the kind of debt that can’t really be quantified.”

“Yeah, well…” I mirror the almost-smile. “Let’s hope we don’t make a habit of needing each other’s help like this.”

Vic glances up from his computer. “Agreed.” He hesitates, glancing at Willow, then adds, “But if you need anything else, you know where to find us.”

We head downstairs, escorted by Willow and all three of her men. She’s still holding Dayana, and when the baby waves a chubby hand at me as if saying goodbye, I can’t stop myself from smiling.

“Take care, Quinn,” Willow says softly as I reach for the door handle. “And good luck. I hope you find him soon.”

I nod, surprised by the warmth in her voice. We barely know each other, but I feel like something has shifted between us. Maybe it’s because of our shared experience of loving dangerous men, or maybe it’s just Willow’s open nature, the way she seems to embrace life with open arms. Either way, I’m grateful for her kindness.

We might not be friends, exactly, but it’s good to know that we aren’t enemies. God knows I have enough of those already.

“Thanks, Willow. Take care of yourself.”

We step outside, and I take a second to exhale, rolling my shoulders back and letting go of some of the stress and anxiety I’ve been feeling. We’re one step closer to getting Atlas back, and that’s worth taking a few seconds to celebrate—if only inside my own head.

As we approach our bikes, I pull out my phone. My moment of feeling thankful slips away, replaced by grim determination. My fingers hover over the keypad for a moment before I punch in the number Ambrose called me from earlier.

It rings once, then twice.

“Quinn.” Ambrose’s voice comes through, clear and sharp. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d call.”

I grip the phone tighter as all the stress I’ve just unloaded comes rushing back. “Cut the shit, Ambrose. You know why I’m calling. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Do tell.”

“I’ll get you into the Dark Lotus Syndicate. But I want Atlas back. Unharmed.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment I wonder if he’s hung up. Then his laughter crackles through the speaker, cold and humorless.

“Unharmed? I’m afraid that ship has sailed, my dear.” His tone turns cruel. “Your precious Atlas has already experienced quite a bit of… discomfort.”

I know what he’s saying is true. I’d like to pretend I’ve repressed the memories of Atlas’s tortured screams from the last time I talked to Ambrose, but it would be a lie. I still hear those gut-wrenching cries every time I close my eyes to sleep at night.

“You son of a bitch,” I hiss, barely keeping my simmering rage in check. “If you don’t think for a second that I won’t?—”

“Now, now,” he interrupts smoothly. “Let’s not get emotional. I can promise to keep him alive and in… relatively decent shape. As long as you uphold your end of the deal, of course.”

I close my eyes for a second and take a breath to get myself back together, for Atlas’s sake as much as my own. If there’s one thing my dad taught me—and the thing Ambrose just reaffirmed —it’s that negotiations and emotions don’t mix. “Fine. But the torture stops now. Immediately.”

“Fine.” His smug voice parrots mine. “I accept your terms. Get me into the Dark Lotus Syndicate, and I’ll ensure Atlas remains relatively unscathed.”

My stomach churns at his casual cruelty, but I force myself to stay focused. “I need proof that he’s alive. Now.”

There’s a pause, then a rustling sound. My heart races, hoping to hear Atlas’s voice.

Instead, a bloodcurdling scream rips through the speaker. It’s unmistakably Atlas, his voice raw and agonized. The sound cuts off abruptly, replaced by Ambrose’s chilling chuckle.

“There’s your proof, my dear. Don’t worry—he’ll come back to you alive and well. It’s amazing how much pain you can inflict without causing lasting damage.”

My vision blurs red, and I grip my phone so hard that my fingers ache. Every muscle in my body tenses as I fight the urge to hurl the damn thing across the parking lot.

I’m about to unleash another torrent of threats and curses at Ambrose when I feel a firm grip on my arm. Nico’s hand is there, steady and grounding. His touch is a silent warning, reminding me to keep it together.

I take another deep breath, forcing myself to unclench my jaw. He’s right. I can’t lose control now, not when we’re so close. Atlas needs me to stay focused.

“It’s a deal,” I tell Ambrose, my voice strained. “I’ll call you once I’ve set up the meeting with the Dark Lotus Syndicate. I’ll tell you when and where it’s going down.”

“Excellent.” He sounds so fucking pleased with himself that I want nothing more than to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze the life out of him. But not now. Not today. “I look forward to our next chat, Quinn. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

I hang up before either of us can say anything else.