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Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2) 1. Quinn 2%
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Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2)

Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2)

By Eva Ashwood
© lokepub

1. Quinn

1

QUINN

I’ve had guns shoved in my face more times than I can count.

But never like this.

Never by someone I care about.

Cared.

The correction comes quickly in my mind. Because as far as I’m concerned, I no longer give a single, solitary shit about any of the men in front of me—aside from making sure they suffer for what they’ve done to me.

They lied to me. They used me.

So now the Princes of Carnage get to watch their world burn—and unfortunately for them, their whole world was centered in one place. Whatever comes of Nico’s gun in my face, whatever happens next, I’ll have my head held high the whole way through, knowing I did exactly what needed to be done.

As the clubhouse fire rages in the distance, it halos Nico, Killian, and Atlas in the light of its inferno. It’s downright demonic, the way the blaze frames them, as if it’s revealing the truth about them that I should have known this entire time. They’re devils, and now they’re no longer in disguise. The echo of that blaze burns in Nico’s mismatched eyes as he glares down at me.

Even before, when we were enemies the first time around, he never looked at me like this.

It’s hard to tell whether I relish the fact that the burning hatred in his eyes is trained on me now, or if it’s just another painful confirmation that he never felt a single real thing for me from the moment this sham marriage was agreed upon.

As if some furious thought crosses his mind, Nico’s lip curls suddenly, and he shoves the barrel of the gun beneath my chin. Its cold metal against my bare flesh is a stark contrast to the warm air around us, making me sweat. My shoulders tense, but I don’t cower. I refuse to let any of these three men see even the tiniest spark of fear in my eyes.

“If you’re going to kill me, then do it. It’s not polite to play with your food,” I bite out, my chest tight.

Killian and Atlas come up closer, properly flanking their leader as a dangerous glint flashes through Nico’s eyes.

“I should kill you,” he murmurs, his voice gruff. “Should blow your pretty brains all over the fucking ground and leave your body for the crows, because you sure as shit don’t deserve anything better.” His jaw tightens as he leans closer, his eyes bouncing between mine. “The only reason you’re alive is because you have some shred of value to someone out there, and I intend to collect on that.”

My stomach twists, and bile rises in my throat. That’s right. I’m supposedly valuable to someone else—but not to Nico, and not to the two men beside him either. Not anymore.

A dull ache fills my chest at that thought, making it hard to breathe, but I shove the feeling down. Pain at their betrayal is a sensation that I can’t give in to. Not when I’m outnumbered three to one.

Then again, those have always been my odds when dealing with the Princes.

“I have no idea what Silas was talking about,” I say, keeping my voice level. I look Nico right in the eyes as I speak, glaring at the man I once felt proud to call my husband. “He was probably lying, knowing you’d take the fucking bait?—”

Nico makes a sound low in his throat, his free hand gripping the front of my shirt to jerk me closer to his face. My hands curl into fists, my entire body reacting to his proximity. To the threat he now represents.

I’m pissed at the tears that burn in the corners of my eyes, and I blink once, clearing them quickly before he can take note of them.

“You really think we’re going to believe a damn thing you say anymore?”

It’s not Nico, but Atlas who speaks up. His deep voice breaks the tension between me and my husband, and my eyes snap to him.

He’s always been the most traditionally handsome of all three of the men, with his black hair and those arresting brown eyes that turn lighter as they meet his irises. Once, those eyes looked at me with so much warmth and softness and need in them that it stole my breath. But now it’s like a shutter has fallen over his soul, blocking out any emotion. I hate it, and the harsh sound of his voice makes the anger churning in my chest roil even faster.

“You fucking lied too!” I blurt, shaking with fury as Nico keeps the gun pressed tightly beneath my chin. “All of you! I was the only one who went into this arrangement telling the fucking truth!”

Atlas opens his mouth to retort, but before he can speak, a sudden, shuddering crash comes from the direction of the clubhouse. We all jerk in surprise, our eyes darting over toward the burning building. Embers and flames shoot up into the sky as another crashing sound fills the air. Something big must have fallen, or caught flame.

Whatever it is, it’s my way out.

The Princes are momentarily distracted, their anger and agony turned on their precious clubhouse, and that gives me the tiny opening I need.

I jerk backward, ignoring the screaming protest in my arm where I was shot as I break free of Nico’s hold on me, ducking away from the weapon he had pressed under my chin.

Then I bolt in the opposite direction.

“Shit!”

“Get her!”

Their deep voices ring out behind me, but I don’t bother trying to distinguish who’s speaking as I put all of my focus into running as fast as I can without missing a step and going down. I grit my teeth, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin as I pump my arms, racing through the wooded area that surrounds the once-standing clubhouse. Branches and dry grass crunch beneath my feet, thin tree limbs catching against my skin and clothes. My heart pounds against my ribs, my lungs burning from the exertion as I push myself to go faster.

It only took the Princes a second to regroup after I broke out of Nico’s grasp, and I can hear them behind me, hot on my heels.

Unbidden, my mind flashes back to that night. To the chase through the cemetery, when I became prey to a trio of predators that I welcomed with such ferocity it surprised me to my very core. What happened between the four of us that night was wild and primal, breaking down the walls I’d tried to put up and forcing me to acknowledge that there was something between us.

But even that was a lie.

No matter how real it felt .

My anger fuels me, spurring me to run faster, harder. My legs burn, and I can’t breathe. But I can’t let them catch me this time. I can’t let the Princes of Carnage destroy what’s left of me—or my heart.

Just like that night though, the odds are three against one.

The sound of cracking twigs and footsteps hitting the earth reach my ears, giving me a rough idea of where the men are. I’m flanked on either side, with one of them still behind me. I can’t distinguish who’s where, so I just keep running, flying through the woods. On my left side, the footsteps get closer before veering away again, and a burst of adrenaline surges through me.

They’re going to catch me.

My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of its cage. Faster, faster, I can’t let them ?—

One hand closes around my wrist, and our momentum sends me and the fucker who grabbed me careening into the ground. My temple smacks against a patch of hard dirt, and I can hear Killian’s distinctive grunt as he goes down on top of me.

Of course it’d be him who got to me first. But unlike the previous times he’s chased me, this time I have no desire to be caught.

And I won’t give in without a fight.

Twisting beneath him, I lash out, managing to land a right hook on his face.

“Fuck!” he grunts, his voice low and intense.

I hate how the sound sends a shiver down my spine.

I spit at him, kick my feet, and headbutt him, causing him to reel back a little. It opens up enough space between us for me to scramble out of his hold—only for another one of them to grab me.

Atlas.

“Still plenty vicious, I see,” Atlas growls, and there isn’t an ounce of affection in the nickname the way there once was.

“Fuck you!” I knee him in the gut just to show him how vicious I can be, and that earns me a hard shove against the tree behind us.

His body anchors me there, and I can’t move. The whole of his broad-shouldered frame pins me down, and as hard as I wriggle and squirm, Atlas isn’t budging.

Unable to use my fists as weapons, I turn my head and I bite into his forearm, sinking my teeth into his flesh so hard that I taste blood.

I’ll show you who’s fucking vicious.

He hisses sharply but doesn’t let me go. He shoves me harder, his arms pressing into my chest until I can barely breathe. The pressure forces my inhales and exhales into pathetic wheezes, but I don’t cry out. The Princes are no longer allowed to see my tears.

“I was hoping we could do this the easy way, mia cara,” Nico says, coming up to stand beside Atlas. His chest is heaving, exertion from hunting me down quickening his breath and making his face shine with sweat. His eyes are dark, his pupils so blown out there’s no color in them anymore.

He looks like a god of death.

And I fucking hate him for it.

Every part of me is on fire, burning with adrenaline or pain or both, and I try to ignore the fact that in another context—in another life—the chase I just led them all on might have ended with a very different outcome.

The Princes were always my weakness, and they exploited the fuck out of that fact.

“There is no easy way,” I tell him, and I swear I can feel the mark of his ring on my chest itching, even though the tattoo has long since healed. “Not anymore. Not between us.”

Something passes through his eyes, a thought or emotion that I can’t quite read. Then he nods.

“You’re right.” His gaze flicks between Atlas and Killian. “Get her tied up. We’re leaving.”

I don’t know what they plan to tie me up with, but that question is answered when Killian steps forward. He grabs the hem of my shirt, sending my pulse skittering as he rips it, pulling a length of cloth from the bottom. It leaves my stomach exposed, and I swear I catch a glint of heat in his dark green eyes as his gaze passes briefly over my toned, tattooed skin.

I grit my teeth, looking away. As Killian steps back, Atlas jerks me forward, gripping my wrists together. He holds them as Killian binds them with the scraps of my own clothes. They work methodically together as Nico watches, and it’s not lost on me that this scenario—Nico calling the shots, and his two best friends following his commands without hesitation—is something I’m so intimately familiar with.

No, not intimate . Not anymore.

Killian gets the cloth tied around my wrists, and I grimace. He obviously knows his way around a knot, and it’s so tight that I’m sure the circulation in my hands is going to be fucked. But I don’t complain, even when I’m lifted unceremoniously and slung over Atlas’s shoulder.

Because I refuse to make any of this easy for them, I knee him in the chest as he gets me situated, but before I can do more than that, Nico steps up behind us both, his gun drawn again.

“Don’t try anything else,” he warns, his voice so low and even that I know the threat is real. “Or you’ll regret it.”

I relent, going limp across Atlas’s shoulder as Killian steps up to walk alongside us and they all trudge through the forest.

When we get closer to the still-burning clubhouse, Nico climbs onto his bike, and Atlas deposits me on the back of it, right behind him.

“How am I supposed to hold on?” I demand, twisting my head to look at him.

He just shrugs. “You’ll figure it out. You’re smart enough.”

I grumble under my breath, gripping the back of Nico’s shirt as well as I can with my bound hands as Killian and Atlas mount up on their rides as well, leaving my bike where it is.

As we peel out and ride away from the clubhouse, I consider attempting to jerk Nico backward. Sending him flying onto the asphalt would surely put a damper on whatever plans he’s working up to use this secret about me to his advantage—whatever that secret may be.

The only thing that stops me from throwing my weight backward and trying to drag him off the bike is the fact that that would send me flying too, and I’m not exactly in the kind of condition someone should be in if they plan to do daredevil shit on the back of a motorcycle. I’m exhausted, and the bullet wound in my shoulder hurts like hell. Even if I managed to get off the bike, there’s no way I’d get far before the men dragged me back again.

So for now, I behave and bide my time. The roar of the motorcycle’s engine cuts through the night, and I try not to think about the other times I’ve been on the back of Nico’s bike, or how he and the others got me a bike of my own after our wedding.

I remember being surprised and strangely touched by the gesture at the time, but when I look back on it now, everything is colored in a different light. Every little moment that pushed me and the Princes closer together was carefully orchestrated, either by the Princes themselves or by The Saint—whoever the fuck that is—as a way to get me off my guard.

I hold on tightly to the anger and bitterness that burn in the back of my throat, because I know they’re the only things that are going to keep me alive going forward.

Eventually, we roll up to the front of my house, and my eyebrows furrow as Nico cuts the engine. I’m actually surprised the men are ballsy enough to bring me to this location while they’ve got me tied up like this. It’s late at night by now, but still, if anyone from Enigma decided to come by my house right now, what would the Princes do? How would they try to explain away the very obvious fact that I’m their prisoner?

Then again… maybe they think so little of my gang that they’re not really worried about sparking a war between Enigma and Carnage.

As that thought sours in my mind, I’m jerked off Nico’s bike by Atlas. Once more, I’m slung over his broad shoulders, and his arms lock around my legs, keeping them pinned in place.

Seems he’s learned his lesson.

Moving quickly and efficiently, they carry me inside under the cover of darkness. From my upside down vantage point, I can see the foyer of the large house I inherited from my father. Just days ago, before everything came to light, this house wasn’t just a building with four walls and four occupants—it was a home. A home where I was starting to think that maybe we could build something real.

What a load of shit that turned out to be.

As they haul me through the house, I can’t help but think about all the moments we’ve had in here. Atlas making me food in the kitchen. Nico and Atlas having their way with me in the living room. Killian dropping that bag of hands on the kitchen table?—

Lies.

All of it.

As we head toward the back of the house, I realize where they’re taking me: the basement. It doesn’t get much use these days, but my father used to occasionally conduct interrogations down there.

Guess it’s kind of ironic that the Princes of Carnage are about to use it for the same purpose.

Killian flips on the light, and Atlas carries me down the stairs before setting me down on a chair situated near the back wall.

Atlas glances around, his eyes zeroing in on the shelving to the left. I left this room pretty much as my father left it, and there are a variety of restraints and weapons lined up neatly on the shelves. He seems to eye the collection appreciatively as he grabs a length of rope there.

“Aw, you’re gonna tie me up? Kinky,” I mutter hoarsely as he ties the rope around me, securing me to the chair.

He glares at me but says nothing.

While Atlas busies himself with restraint duty, I glance over to see what the others are doing. Killian has retreated to the shadows, watching but saying nothing as is his usual habit. But even though he’s as silent as a shadow, I can see the glint of his dark green eyes as they study me intently.

I shiver, unable to stop the visceral reaction.

Tearing my gaze away from him, I search for Nico. He’s standing off to the side, his cell phone pressed to his ear as he runs a hand through his dark brown hair, leaving the strands messy and unkempt.

“Let everyone know the active threat is over.” He pauses to listen, his expression hard, then says, “Yeah. There was an attack on the clubhouse. Whole thing was set on fire. As far as we can tell, no one was hurt.”

There’s another pause as Nico listens to whatever the person on the other end of the call is saying, and his eyes cut to me.

“Yeah, we know who did it.”

My stomach tightens into a knot, a chill rushing over my skin. This is it. The moment when every person from the lowest rung to the highest point of the ladder in the Princes of Carnage motorcycle club will know just who fucked their whole operation into the dirt.

This is my death sentence.

But the words that come out of Nico’s mouth shock me.

“Silas started the fire, but we caught him in the act and killed him. His body is laid out in the woods near the clubhouse. Have someone clean it up and get rid of it—discreetly. And move fast. We don’t need someone tracing his sorry ass back to us.”

I stare at Nico, doing my best to keep the surprise from showing on my face. He and his two best friends taking me hostage was pretty much a given, considering what I did. But them covering for me? Hiding what I did and blaming it on someone else? That wasn’t what I anticipated at all.

As if he can sense my confusion, Nico ends the call and then comes to stand in front of me, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“You’re lucky as hell, mia cara. If you were anyone else, you’d get a public execution, Carnage style. But we need time to figure out what the hell our next step is going to be, and while we’re working that out, we don’t need your little Enigma friends on our asses.”

My jaw clenches. Of course. He’s not protecting me. He’s protecting himself and his own people .

I huff a humorless laugh, glaring at him defiantly. “So you’re pussies. Good to know.”

Nico grips my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“While we solve this little mystery about your worth, we don’t need the distraction of your people coming after us, trying to defend their queen. It’s called strategy. Something your father clearly never taught you enough about, or you wouldn’t have done something as fucking reckless and suicidal as what you did tonight.”

He releases his hold on my chin suddenly, and I bite at his retreating fingers as he pulls them away, just to be an asshole.

“You keep that shit up, and you won’t have teeth,” he warns. “Then again, maybe that’ll be a good down payment for what you cost us when you decided to burn our club to the ground. I hear there are psychos out there who will pay a pretty penny for something as fucked up as a good set of teeth.”

“I don’t see why you’re so bent out of shape,” I snap, my anger boiling over. “You brought this on yourselves.”

“We didn’t do nearly the same level of shit as what you pulled tonight.”

“Right, of course not. All you did was betray your vows, spy on me, spill my secrets to some shadow man and use me?—”

“They’re hardly the same thing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I explode, fuming. “I see it now. You’re not actually a loyal man. You’re just loyal to the people you care about, and I was never one of them.”

Nico’s head jerks back a little, almost as if I’ve scalded him. All expression slips from his face, all emotion gone. Not even the anger is left in his features, as if he’s shut off every bit of feeling that was pouring through him a second ago.

Maybe I’ve struck a nerve calling him on his shit. Good .

The basement goes quiet for a long second, neither of us looking away from each other. Then Nico sighs and shakes his head.

“Ti sarei stato leale. Ti avrei dato tutto. Chiaramente questo non doveva essere. Forse in un’altra vita, mia cara.”

He tears his eyes away from me, jerking his head to Killian.

“I’m done down here. Get that bullet out her shoulder. I want her at her best for what’s to come.”

I swallow, bracing myself.

Something tells me he isn’t prepping me for anything good.

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