3. Quinn
3
QUINN
More bullets slam into the concrete behind us, leaving no doubt that we’re still only a few seconds ahead of the Dark Lotus Syndicate members’ guards. I duck lower, sloshing through raw fucking sewage while Nico and Atlas drag me forward. My chest is on fire and my shirt is soaked with my own blood, making it cling to my skin every time I try to breathe.
Behind us, Killian fires twice. “Keep fucking moving!”
His shout bounces off the walls, nearly drowned out by the gunshots and footsteps gaining on us.
I don’t know how we aren’t dead yet. We should be bleeding out on Malcolm’s floor right now. The fact that we made it this far is pure dumb fucking luck.
A bullet whizzes past my head and I instinctively jerk away. Atlas yanks me around a corner, making my side scream where Elliot stuck his knife in me. But fuck the pain. I’ve handled worse. Right now, I just need to stay on my feet.
“Left,” Nico says through gritted teeth, his fingers digging into my arm as we splash through the shallow water. “There’s gotta be a way out somewhere?—”
My boot slips on something, and my knee gives out. For a second, I’m sure I’m going down, but Atlas doesn’t let me fall. The sudden movement sends a spike of pain through my torso where Imogen and Elliot stabbed me, but I push that shit aside like I always do. I can deal with it later.
Right now, we run or we die.
The tunnels branch off in every direction, which is the only thing keeping us alive right now. At least we’ve got options, unlike that death trap of a hallway in the bowels of Noctura.
“Another right,” Nico whispers, pulling me toward a smaller tunnel. Every step sends pain shooting through my body, but the sound of shouting behind us is more than enough to keep me moving.
“Wait.” Killian’s voice drops low as he gestures to a dark offshoot tunnel ahead. “In there. Now.”
We duck into the tunnel just as voices seem to echo from all around us. My heart is pounding so hard I swear they’ll hear it, but I don’t dare say a word as we press ourselves tight against the slimy concrete walls.
“Don’t move,” Atlas breathes against my ear.
His arm is still around my waist helping hold me up, and I’m not even a little bit ashamed that I’m using his strength to my full advantage, leaning into him as much as I can. The wound Imogen gave me isn’t serious—relatively speaking, anyway—but the one from Elliot has taken a lot out of me, and I’m losing more blood with each passing minute. Still, I know I have to stay quiet in spite of the pain that’s making each breath feel like I’m being stabbed all over again.
“They couldn’t have gotten far,” a voice carries down the main tunnel. “Split up and find them.”
“Fuck that,” another voice answers. “You want to chase them through this shit? Let them bleed out down here.”
Nico’s hand finds mine in the darkness, squeezing once. A reminder to stay still. As if I need it. My only hope right now is that maybe if I hold perfectly still, the pain will stop trying to tear me apart.
Footsteps splash through the water, getting closer. I feel all three men tense around me, ready to fight if we’re found. The steps pause right at the junction of our tunnel, and my fingers dig into Nico’s hand.
“There’s nothing this way,” the guard calls out after what feels like forever. “Check the north tunnels.”
We wait in silence as the footsteps fade away, none of us willing to move until we’re sure they’re gone. Finally, Killian lets out a breath.
“Fucking amateur hour,” he mutters. “They should have checked every tunnel.”
“Don’t complain about their fuck-up,” Atlas snorts. “It’s the only reason we’re still breathing.”
The shakes hit me out of nowhere, making my whole body tremble like I’m coming down from the world’s worst high. My teeth start chattering so hard I have to clench my jaw to keep them quiet.
“Fuck,” Atlas mutters, pulling me tighter against his chest. “She’s going into shock.”
That’s probably right. Everything feels distant and fuzzy, like I’m watching this shit happen to someone else. The icy water around my feet isn’t helping, and neither is all the blood I’ve lost.
“Mia cara.” Nico’s face appears in front of mine, his mismatched eyes searching my face. “Tell us what you’re feeling. Now.”
I try to focus, but it’s like trying to think through mud. “Cold,” I manage. “Really fucking cold. And…” I swallow hard as my stomach rolls. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
“Your adrenaline is crashing,” Killian says from somewhere to my left. “Plus the blood loss and this fucking freezing water.”
“We need to get her out of here.” Atlas’s voice rumbles against my back. “She’s not gonna last much longer if we don’t get her somewhere dry and warm.”
“Not to mention we need to treat those stab wounds sooner rather than later,” Killian adds.
The edges of my vision are starting to go dark, and I can’t stop shaking, but I’m not ready to die in a fucking sewer. Not after everything we just survived.
“Killian is right,” Nico says, his voice tight. He’s still holding my hand, and I focus on that touch to stay conscious. “Those stab wounds aren’t fucking around. We need to get you somewhere that has medical supplies.”
“No hospitals,” I manage to get out. “Malcolm will have people watching.”
“No shit.” Atlas adjusts his grip on me, trying to keep me upright. “But we need to get you somewhere before you lose too much blood.”
Killian moves closer, his bulk blocking what little light filters in from the main tunnel. “I know someone. An old army medic. He keeps his mouth shut if you pay him enough.”
“How far?” Atlas asks.
“Other side of the city.”
“Fuck.” Nico’s grip tightens on my hand. “That’s not gonna work, it’s too far away. But we’re still gonna have to move through the sewers for a while. Malcolm will have eyes everywhere above ground near Noctura.”
They’re right. Going up too soon would be suicide, plain and simple. But the thought of staying down here makes my stomach turn again.
“The main tunnel has been quiet,” Atlas says. “Do you think they gave up searching this section?”
“For now.” Killian says. “But they’ll be back. Probably with more men.”
“We need to move.” Nico drops my hand, and I hear him checking his gun. “Killian, can you carry her? She’s not gonna make it far on her own.”
“Yeah. Hey, siren?” Killian’s breath is warm against my ear. “I’m gonna pick you up. Try not to pass out.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, trying to push away from the wall. “I can walk.” But my legs are about as steady as a drunk freshman at last call, and I stumble on my first step.
Killian doesn’t say a word, just scoops me up like I weigh nothing. I try to protest again, but he cuts me off.
“Let me do this for you. You’ve lost enough blood to fill a fucking bathtub.”
He’s right, and we both know it. So I give in, letting my head rest against his broad, muscular chest as we move back into the main tunnel.
Atlas takes point, his gun ready, while Nico covers our rear. The sound of water splashing under their boots echoes off the concrete walls as we make our way deeper into the maze of tunnels.
“When we get out of here,” Killian murmurs, his voice so low only I can hear it, “I’m gonna clean those wounds properly. Then you’re getting the hottest bath you’ve ever had.”
I try to focus on his words instead of the burning pain. “That’s promising… a lot.”
“And I always deliver.” His arms tighten around me as he steps over something. “We’ll get a bottle of whiskey too. The good stuff, not that cheap shit you drink.”
“Fuck you,” I manage, but there’s no heat in it.
“You’re getting mouthy already? Good. That’s a good sign. Now stay awake and keep arguing with me.” His chest rumbles against my cheek as he talks. “I’m gonna wrap you up in the softest blankets I can find. We’ll let you rest while we take care of everything.”
Maybe that should sound patronizing, but it doesn’t. Maybe because I know he means every word, or maybe because I’m too tired to care. Either way, I let his voice anchor me as we make our way through the darkness.
Between the endless twisting, turning tunnels and the almost rhythmic splashing of boots through the water, I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been down here. I’m grateful for Killian’s voice, since that’s the only thing keeping me from drifting off completely. Finally, Atlas signals a stop and points up at a manhole cover.
“This should be far enough,” he says quietly.
Nico goes up first, his movements nearly silent in spite of his size. When the cover scrapes aside, dim light filters down. Killian sets me on my feet, and I grab the rusty ladder rungs.
“Are you good?” Atlas asks.
“Do I have any other choice?”
My first pull upward feels like someone is shoving Elliot’s knife back into my side. My right arm is basically useless, and I’m trying not to freak out too much over the fact that my muscles are refusing to work right. The only thing I can do right now is grit my teeth and force myself up anyway, one rung at a time.
“Easy,” Killian murmurs from below. He and Atlas bracket me on either side as I climb, ready to catch me if I slip.
Halfway up, my grip starts to fail. But Nico is already reaching down, his strong, steady hands wrapping around my wrists.
“I’ve got you, mia cara,” he says, helping me the rest of the way. “You’re almost there.”
When I finally crawl out onto the street, everything is spinning. Nico steadies me, his mismatched eyes searching my face as he helps me to my feet.
“You’re the toughest fucking woman I’ve ever met,” he says roughly. “You know that?”
I try to smirk, but it probably looks more like a grimace. “You’re just figuring that out now?”
“No.” His hand cups my face, and he brushes his thumb along my cheek. “I’ve known it since the first time I laid eyes on you. Even before that time in your basement when you threatened to shoot me with my own gun.”
“You mean the good old days?” I know for sure that I’m smirking this time. “When all I had to worry about was one of you three killing me?”
He lets out a harsh laugh, pulling me closer. “We never would have. We couldn’t. Già allora possedevi i nostri cuori.”
I’m not sure what the Italian words mean, but there’s a softness in his voice as he says them. I lean into his solid body as I murmur, “It worked out okay for us in the end, didn’t it?”
Atlas and Killian emerge from the manhole behind us, and Nico’s expression hardens again. “Come on. There’s an alley over there. We need to get off the street before someone spots us looking like murder victims.”
He’s not wrong. Between the blood, the sewer water, and god knows what else, we look like extras from a horror movie. But we’re alive. Beyond all the fucking odds, the four of us are alive and together.
I lean against the alley wall while Atlas and Nico check my wounds. Killian gives me a hard, unreadable look, then leaves to scout the area. The brick is rough against my back, but it’s keeping me upright, so I’ll take it.
“Fuck, vicious,” Atlas mutters, lifting my shirt to look at my side. “This is deep.”
Nico’s hands join his, using a torn strip of his shirt to press hard against the wound. The pain makes black spots dance in my vision.
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“Sorry.” But Nico doesn’t ease up. “We need to stop the bleeding. Tell me if you taste blood in your mouth.”
“What?”
Atlas cuts in. “That’ll tell us if he hit anything vital.” His voice is tight as he adds, “Like a lung, a kidney, anything like that.”
I try to focus past the pain, cataloging what hurts and how. “No… no blood in my mouth. It just hurts like a motherfucker.”
“Good.” Nico’s shoulders relax slightly. “The chest wound isn’t as deep. Imogen must have held back for some reason.”
I remember thinking the same thing at the time, but I can’t focus clearly enough right now to wonder why she would’ve gone easy on me or what advantage she could’ve hoped to gain.
“Lucky me,” I mutter. The pressure on my side is making me nauseated again, but at least the bleeding seems to be slowing. “Do you guys have any idea where the fuck we are?”
“A few miles from Noctura, maybe?” Atlas glances toward where Killian disappeared. “I ditched our phones in the sewer, so it’s hard to be sure.”
“Smart move,” I say, then immediately regret talking more as pain rips through my side again. “Fuck.”
“Stay still,” Nico orders. “We’ll figure out where we are when Killian gets back. Right now, just focus on not bleeding out in this alley.”
I close my eyes, trying to breathe through the pain while Atlas and Nico keep pressure on the wounds. Time gets weird, and I’m not sure if it’s been minutes or hours before I hear Killian’s footsteps coming back down the alley.
“Hold her still,” he says, and I hear rustling.
My eyes flutter open to see him ripping open packages of gauze and pulling out antiseptic. Nico frowns.
“I didn’t know there was a clinic around here.”
“There isn’t.” Killian starts cleaning the gash in my side, and I bite back a scream. “I broke into a vet’s office three blocks over.”
“What the fuck?” Atlas grabs Killian’s wrist. “You’re using animal shit on her?”
Killian just stares at him until he lets go. “Medical supplies are medical supplies. Sterile is sterile. You want to wait around while I walk to a fucking hospital?”
“He’s right,” I grit out as he goes back to work. “Just do it.”
The antiseptic burns like hell, but Killian’s hands are steady as he cleans both wounds. He works fast, wrapping my side with layers of gauze before moving to the shallower wound near my neck.
“This’ll hold for now,” he says, taping down the last piece. “But we need somewhere safe to stitch you up properly.”
“You’re gonna use dog stitches on her too?” Nico asks, but there’s less heat in his words now.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure these are cat supplies. That’s what was pictured on the box, anyway.” Killian starts shoving the leftover gauze in his pockets. “Smaller animals need more delicate work, right? Could be better quality shit.”
I let out a weak laugh that makes my side scream. “Good to know… I’m getting the fancy pet treatment.”
Killian’s hand is gentle on my shoulder. “Save your strength. We’ve still got to get you somewhere safe, and you’re not exactly in shape for another marathon through the sewers.”
“Speaking of which,” Atlas cuts in, “did you figure out where we are while you were stealing those kitty bandages?”
“Yeah,” Killian nods, checking the gauze one more time. “We’re about six blocks from Greenland.”
My head snaps up, which is a mistake that sends pain shooting through my neck. “From what?”
“Greenland. It’s the code name for an old Carnage safe house,” Nico explains. His eyes are distant, like he’s working through something. “We used it for storage mostly. Nobody ever stayed there long.”
“And now?” I ask.
“Now it should be empty.” His jaw tightens. “I don’t know if Zoey ever even knew the place existed. Now that she’s taken over our old club, I’m sure she has more to worry about than a rundown place way the hell out here.”
“Fucking Zoey,” I mutter, and all three men snort in agreement.
Killian helps me stand straighter. “Anyway, it’s not far. And there are probably still some supplies stashed there. Maybe weapons too, unless she found out about the place and cleaned it out.”
“Definitely worth a shot,” Atlas says. “Not like we’ve got any better options right now.”
He’s not wrong about that. I’m barely standing, we’re all covered in blood and sewer water, and Malcolm’s people are probably already spreading out to search for us. We need somewhere to lay low, and fast.
“Okay.” Nico’s voice has that edge to it, the one that says he’s made up his mind. “Let’s go check out our old hideout.”
We start moving and I grit my teeth, placing one foot in front of the other over and over again while I pray that my legs don’t give out. Regardless, I know Killian is right behind me, ready to catch me if I fall. By the time we reach the old safe house, my legs are shaking so bad I can barely stand.
“Fucking finally,” I breathe as Nico picks the lock. The familiar click of the door opening is the best sound I’ve heard all night.
“Home sweet shithole,” Atlas mutters, helping me through the door.
“It’s gotta be better than the sewer,” I say.
“That’s a low bar, siren.” Killian’s voice has that edge of amusement to it, but as we step inside, something in his posture changes.
The darkness inside the safe house feels wrong. Heavy. My men must feel it too because they all go still at once, like predators catching a scent.
Then I hear it—the soft sound of breathing that isn’t ours.
Someone else is here.