21. Quinn
21
QUINN
Seeing Emmett’s face hits me like a slap to the face. All the betrayal, all the pain he caused surges up inside me until I can barely breathe through the rage. The memory of the raid on my shop, of Atlas’s blood, the sound of his screams over the phone—it all crashes through me at once.
“You entitled piece of shit.” My voice comes out as a snarl. I shrug off Killian’s steadying hand and stalk forward. “What, you couldn’t handle that I didn’t want you? That I chose someone else?”
Emmett takes a step back, and the fear in his eyes just pisses me off more. Fucking coward. Always has been, hiding behind others, playing the victim.
“You betrayed your entire gang. Your family.” There’s no stopping the bitterness in my tone, and I’m not even trying to hold back. Fuck that. Fuck him. “Got Atlas tortured. Almost got me killed. All because your fragile fucking ego couldn’t handle rejection?”
“You think I owed you something?” My fists clench so tight my nails break skin. “Think because you wanted me, I was supposed to want you back?”
“Quinn.” Nico’s warning comes a second before his arm wraps around my waist, holding me back. Good thing, because I’m about to rip Emmett’s throat out with my bare hands.
“I gave you a home.” My voice rises with fury. “A purpose. My trust. And you threw it all away for what? Money? Revenge?”
“You don’t know shit.” Emmett’s voice is shaking, but he straightens his spine, protected by Zoey’s wall of muscle. “You’re the one who betrayed us. Spreading your legs for our enemies, letting them into our territory?—”
“Careful.” Killian’s voice promises violence.
“What?” Emmett’s lip curls. “Everyone knows she whored herself out to all three of you. The mighty Quinn Kent, on her knees for the Princes of Carnage. Your father would be ashamed?—”
The mention of my father snaps something inside me. I surge forward with a scream of rage, and it takes both Nico and Killian to hold me back. My vision blurs red as I fight against their grip.
“Don’t you dare talk about my father,” I snarl. “You’re nothing. A jealous little boy who couldn’t stand seeing someone else get what he wanted.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Emmett’s eyes drop to the spot where Nico’s arms are locked around my waist. “Even now, it’s obvious where your loyalty lies. Isn’t that why you brought these three former Princes ”—he spits out the word—“rather than anyone from your so-called family at Enigma?”
I’ve stopped struggling against Nico. I won’t go after Emmett here, not while he has the advantage of numbers on his side. But I will go after him. His own words have sealed his fate.
Instead, I hold my head high and drop my voice low and deadly. “You self-righteous fuck. You think this is about sex? About fucking territory?” I’m still nearly trembling with rage, but I’m holding it together because I want him to realize that I mean every fucking word I say. “Just so everyone here understands, I trusted this pathetic excuse for a man. My gang trusted him. And he sold us out because he couldn’t stand that I didn’t love him back.”
Stefan’s hand settles on his gun, and the air crackles with tension. One wrong move and this parking lot becomes a war zone. Behind Emmett, I can see some of the former Princes of Carnage shifting uncomfortably. They know he’s wrong. And if they didn’t know before, now they’ve heard exactly what kind of snake they’re protecting.
“You want to know the truth?” I bare my teeth in something too sharp to be a smile. “I never wanted you because I saw exactly what you were. Weak. Selfish. The kind of man who’d sell out his family for a handful of cash and wounded pride.”
Killian’s fingers dig into my arm as Emmett’s face twists with rage. Let him be angry. Let him feel a fraction of what I’m feeling.
“I’m going to kill you.” The words fall from my lips like a vow. “Slowly. I’m going to enjoy it. I’m going to savor it. And when I’m done, no one will remember you ever existed.”
I feel Nico and Killian tense behind me, ready to move if this explodes. And part of me wants it to. Emmett will be the first one to go, consequences be damned.
He knows I can make it happen too. I can still see the fear in his eyes. One word from me, and the men beside me will tear through Zoey’s entire crew to get to Emmett. Atlas is already moving to step in front of me—to shield me with his injured body—and Killian has gone completely still in the way that means blood is about to flow.
But through the pounding rage, a moment of clarity hits me like a bucket of ice water. We’re outnumbered. Atlas can barely stand. This isn’t the time or place to start a war.
Especially not over a fuckwad like Emmett. I won’t give him that kind of notoriety.
“Stand down.” I say the words quietly enough that only my men can hear. When Atlas doesn’t relax his stance, I catch his eye. “It’s not worth it, Atlas. Please. Do this for me.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, and I can see just how ready and willing he is to sacrifice himself for me.
Fuck.
That’s the last thing I want, but it makes the backs of my eyes sting with pride and gratitude and something bigger that I won’t even attempt to identify right now.
But he finally shifts back, with just the barest nod telling me he understands.
Nico’s arm is still tight around my waist, but his grip loosens slightly, then falls away completely as he takes a step back. Killian is still between us and the Tyrants, but his hands drop from where they’d been reaching for weapons.
I force myself to breathe. To think past the bloodlust screaming in my ears. Emmett will die—that’s not in question. But it’ll be on my terms, not his. Not here in this crumbling parking lot with all these witnesses and the potential for things to go badly for my men.
Zoey steps forward and positions herself between me and Emmett like she’s his own personal shield. The motion makes my teeth grind. She used to be Atlas’s girl, and now she’s protecting the rat who got him tortured.
Just one more reason to add her to my personal hit list.
“Emmett came to us,” she says, her voice carrying that hint of superiority that makes me want to slam her face into the concrete. “He was looking for real leadership. A crew who looks out for all its members and rewards loyalty above all else.” Her lips curve up. “Lucky for us, he chose to seek protection with the Tyrants. And even luckier, he knows quite a bit about how things work in Enigma.”
Even without turning to look, I can sense Nico tensing behind me. When he speaks, his voice is deceptively calm, but I can hear the steel underneath. “So the Tyrants are becoming a refuge for traitors now?” He lets out a dark chuckle. “Better watch your back, Zoey. If you keep that many snakes within arm’s reach, you’re bound to get bitten.”
The words hit their mark. I see it in the way Zoey’s face tightens, the flash of uncertainty in her eyes before she masks it. She’s new to leadership, and it shows in these little tells, these microscopic flinches that reveal her inexperience. Part of me wants to tell her that showing weakness like that will get her killed in this world. The rest of me hopes she learns that lesson the hard way.
“Is that a threat?” Stefan growls, taking a menacing step forward. Atlas shifts beside me, and I hear his sharp intake of breath—he’s in pain, but still ready to fight. The sound makes my chest ache.
“Just friendly advice,” Nico replies smoothly. “From someone who’s been doing this longer than you’ve been riding.”
Zoey recovers quickly, straightening her spine and lifting her chin. Gone is the flicker of doubt, replaced by cold determination. “Here’s some advice for you.” She gestures at her crew and they move in closer, a wall of leather and muscle. “Either Enigma peacefully cedes the territory we want, or we’ll use every bit of information Emmett has to systematically dismantle your operation.” Her gaze slides to me, sharp as a blade. “We know your weak spots now. Your safe houses. Your supply routes. Your connections.” She pauses, letting the threat sink in. “How much blood are you willing to spill to keep territory you can’t even protect?”
I feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, waiting to see how I’ll respond. Killian has gone deadly still beside me, while Atlas’s breathing has grown heavier, either from rage or pain. Probably a little of both. Just behind me, a low rumble escapes Nico’s chest. Is it a reminder to stay focused and keep my head in the game? Or a subtle cue that he’s ready to start shooting if I give the word?
I muster a laugh that’s all sharp edges, designed to cut. “No fucking deal. And you know what’s funny? For all his big talk, Emmett was never truly my second. Not like Killian and Atlas are to Nico.” I tilt my head, watching the way Emmett’s face twists in outrage. Good. Let him feel that burn, that reminder that he was never as important as he thought he was. “Which means whatever information he’s feeding you is surface level at best. He was never in the room when the real decisions were made.”
It’s a lie, and a dangerous one. Emmett knows plenty about Enigma’s operations. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let him or Zoey see even a flicker of concern cross my face.
“So if you want Enigma territory?” I bare my teeth in something way too dangerous to be called a smile. “You’ll have to take it over my dead body.”
“Over our dead bodies,” Atlas growls, and the possession in his voice makes something warm and steadying spread through my chest. He steps up beside me, shoulder to shoulder, even though his movements are stiff from pain. Killian moves to my other side, a wall of muscle and barely-contained violence, while Nico’s solid presence at my back makes me feel like I can take on anyone and anything.
Four against a small army. But somehow, in this moment, it feels like we’re the ones with the advantage.
Zoey’s face hardens, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine.” She spits the word like it’s poison. “If that’s how you want to play it.”
Her gaze slides to Atlas, and something ugly crawls into her expression.
“Although I have to say, Atlas, you’re not looking so hot.” Her eyes rake over him, taking in the careful way he holds himself, the effects of pain he can’t quite hide. “Seems like she’s more than happy to use you as cannon fodder. A convenient body when she needs one.” Her lips curve up cruelly. “You would’ve been better off staying with me.”
“Better off with you?” He shakes his head, disgust evident in every line of his face. “I’d rather take another bullet.”
Then he does something that makes my heart stutter in my chest. He yanks up his shirt, revealing the fresh ink I put there—my mark permanently etched into his skin.
“You see this? Quinn made that mark.” His voice drops to a growl that sends heat racing through my veins. “This is where I belong. She’s who I belong to.” His eyes lock with mine for a heartbeat, and the possession there is enough to take my breath away. “The only person worth bleeding for.”
The way he claims me so publicly is almost overwhelming. I want to drag him somewhere private and remind him exactly why he wears my mark. But I can’t, so I force myself to focus on the threat in front of us, even as my fingers itch with the need to touch him.
Red splotches creep up Zoey’s neck, and for a moment she looks like she might actually try to claw my eyes out—and part of me hopes she does. I’m just the one to give her the beating she deserves.
Instead, she jerks her chin at her crew. “We’re done here. But remember this moment, Quinn. When your territory is burning and your people are bleeding out in the streets.” Her gaze cuts to Atlas. “And you? You’ll regret choosing her. The Tyrants are going to crush Enigma, and anyone stupid enough to stand with them.”
“Get fucked,” I snap, but she’s already turning away, with her crew falling in around her like attack dogs answering their master’s call. I watch them leave, memorizing faces, counting weapons. The familiar calculations of war.
“You didn’t have to antagonize her like that,” Nico says to Atlas, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “She was already gunning for us.”
Atlas shrugs, then winces at the movement. “No regrets.” His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. “Every word was true.”
I turn to him, and his eyes are dark with pain and something else—something hungry that makes my breath catch. Before I can stop myself, I’m rising up on my toes, catching his mouth with mine and pouring everything I can’t say into the kiss. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and for just a moment, the rest of the world fades away.
“Save it for later, lovebirds,” Killian drawls. “We’ve got work to do.”
He’s right. I break the kiss but keep my hand in Atlas’s. “Blood and Ink,” I say, and they all nod. We’ve got a war to prepare for.
Less than a minute later, we’re tearing through the streets of Detroit. I’m gripping the handlebars tight enough to hurt while my mind races with plans and contingencies.
When Blood and Ink comes into view, my chest tightens for everything that’s been lost. Most of the windows are still boarded up from Ambrose’s attack, and bullet holes pepper the brick facade. But it’s still standing. Still mine.
Just like my people, who come out to greet us as we pull up. They’re battered but not broken, and the sight of them makes my throat tight with pride and worry.
“Quinn.” Cabby nods in greeting as I dismount. “We heard the Tyrants were making moves.”
“Get everyone inside,” I tell him. “We need to talk.”
They file in quickly—the ones who survived, the ones who stayed loyal. My ranks have thinned since Ambrose’s attack, but the ones who remain? They’ll always be family.
Inside, there are fewer chairs now—some got destroyed in the firefight—but my people make do, perching on counters and leaning against walls as they gather around.
I hop up onto the main counter, and my men arrange themselves around me. The trust in these faces looking back at me… it’s a weight I’ll carry until my dying breath.
“Things have gone sideways,” I start, not bothering to sugarcoat it. They deserve the truth. “Emmett’s with the Tyrants now.”
“That rat fuck,” Damon spits, and angry murmurs ripple through the room.
“He knows our operations,” Jasper says quietly. The old man’s face is lined with concern. “Our routes, our safe houses…”
I nod. “Which means we change everything. Every single thing he knows about, we scrap it and start fresh.” My gaze sweeps the room. “It’ll be hard. Dangerous. But we’ve survived worse.”
“We’re with you, Quinn.” Cabby’s voice rings with conviction, and others echo him. The loyalty in their voices makes my heart clench.
“Good. Because here’s what we’re going to do?—”
My phone buzzes, and the number on the screen makes my blood run cold. “Fuck, just a second.” I step away from the group and answer, keeping my voice steady even though the rage coursing through my veins has suddenly been dialed back up to eleven. “What do you want?”
“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” Ambrose’s voice is dripping with venom. “Using the marker for yourself and playing everyone against me.” He barks out a laugh that’s sharp enough to cut glass. “I spent a long, long time setting this up. Watching you, sending your lovers to spy on you, patiently waiting while the four of you played right into my hands.”
My fingers tighten on the phone. Killian shifts closer, his presence steady as stone beside me, while Atlas and Nico move to block the rest of my people from getting too close. Creating a barrier between me and them, letting me handle this without an audience.
“Sorry to ruin your plans.” I know I need to be cautious not to antagonize him too much more than I already have, but… fuck it. Fuck him and everything he’s done to me. To us. “Maybe next time don’t torture someone I care about.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” The endearment sounds like a death threat. “The marker might be gone, but I’m just getting started with you. I’m the kind of man who remembers his debts. And you?” He pauses. “You owe me for what you took from me. You owe me dearly. And you’re going to pay.”
“I don’t owe you shit.”
“We’ll see about that. Your time will come. You might have won the first round in a fluke, but I’m better at this game than you are. I’ve been playing it longer. When I come for you again, the Syndicate won’t save you. Your golden pussy—or whatever it is you used to lure those men in—won’t save you.”
Ice floods my veins. “Go to hell.”
“You first. But before I send you there, I’m going to take everything from you. Your gang. Your territory. Those three attack dogs you keep on such short leashes.” His voice drops lower, almost intimate. “And when you’re alone and broken, then I’ll come for you.”
My stomach twists, but I force steel into my voice. “Big talk from someone who couldn’t even hold on to Atlas when he had him.”
“Keep running that mouth. We both know you’re scared. I can hear it in your voice—that little tremor of fear.” He chuckles. “Sleep tight, Quinn. And remember, every time someone you love bleeds… it’s because of the choices you made.”
The line goes dead, and I lower the phone slowly. Around me, my men are tense, coiled for violence. But it’s my people I’m worried about—the ones watching with wary eyes, the ones who’ve already suffered because of me.
Nico catches my eye, and I see my own fears reflected there. How the fuck are we supposed to fight a war on two fronts? The Tyrants coming at us with inside knowledge of our operations, and Ambrose… a shadow with too many resources and nothing left to lose.
I straighten my spine, shoving down the cold knot of fear in my stomach. I can’t let them see me weak. Not now. Not ever.