Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2)

32. Quinn

32

QUINN

The ride home is a blur, with my thoughts swirling like a tornado. Every time I try to think straight, another piece of information will jumble everything back up again. I cling to Nico, grateful for his solid presence as we weave through traffic.

Before I know it, we’re pulling up to the house. I dismount mechanically, my body on autopilot while my mind races. The men exchange worried glances, but I can’t bring myself to reassure them. I’m barely holding it together as it is.

There’s definitely some tension in the air as we file into the living room. I sink into an armchair, drawing my knees up to my chest. The Princes settle around me, the concern clear as day on their faces.

“Okay,” Atlas begins, cutting through the silence. “We obviously need to talk about all this crazy shit.”

“Agreed,” I nod. I’m not really up for this conversation right now, but it’s not like we can put it off. We have to figure this shit out somehow. “The symbol is probably connected to the marker, right?”

Atlas leans forward, his brow furrowed. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I explain, my thoughts finally starting to align. “Those men were looking for a specific symbol. My father was given a marker. What if the symbol is what’s on the marker?”

Nico looks thoughtful. “That tracks. It would explain why they’re so desperate to find it.”

“But if your dad had this marker,” Killian interjects, “why didn’t he just use it? Or get rid of it if he didn’t want to?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe he destroyed it?”

“Unlikely,” Killian says. “Even if he chose not to use it, something like that would be too valuable to just toss away. No, I bet he hid it somewhere.”

Atlas stands up, pacing the room. “So we need to find this marker. It’s our best lead right now.”

The men continue to discuss potential leads, but their voices fade into the background as I work through everything that’s happened. My father’s secrets, the mysterious marker, the dangerous men hunting for it—it’s a lot. It’s heavy.

It isn’t going to break me, but damn. It really is some crazy shit, to borrow Atlas’s words.

Killian stands abruptly, breaking through my thoughts. “I’ve gotta head out. Carnage business to take care of.”

As he moves towards the door, his eyes lock on to mine. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes me feel exposed, like he can see right through my calm facade to the turmoil beneath. I look away, unable to hold his stare.

“Stay safe,” Atlas calls after him.

The door closes, and the other two men go quiet. I can feel Nico’s eyes on me, concern radiating from him.

“You okay, mia cara?”

I paste on a smile that feels brittle even to me. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… working through some shit, you know?”

He nods, but doesn’t look convinced. The weight of everything suddenly feels suffocating, and I need to escape.

“I think I need a minute,” I mutter, standing up. “I’ll be in my room if you guys need me.”

I don’t wait for a response, practically running up the stairs. Once in my room, I close the door and sit down on my bed, finally letting out the shaky breath I’ve been holding.

The weight of everything crashes down on me, and I feel my shoulders slump. For a moment, I allow myself to feel completely overwhelmed.

My chest tightens, and I struggle to breathe. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’ve always prided myself on being strong, on handling whatever life throws at me. But this? This feels like more than I can bear.

I know that’s not true though. I just finished promising myself I wouldn’t let it break me, and I won’t. Even the strongest people need a minute to get their shit together sometimes.

The door creaks open, and I quickly try to compose myself. Nico steps in, his eyes full of concern.

“I thought I said I needed to be alone,” I snap, sounding harsher than I intend.

He gives me a look that says he understands but also isn’t bothered by my stand-offish attitude. “Yeah, I know. But I’ve been where you are. I know it’s a shitty place to be.”

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical.

Nico sighs and sits beside me on the bed. “When I was growing up, after my mom died, my dad… he was lost. In gambling, in grief, in his own selfish world. I got used to dealing with everything on my own. Never bothered sharing anything with him because I knew he wouldn’t care or be able to help.”

His words hit close to home, and I feel a lump forming in my throat.

“But you know what?” Nico continues, his voice soft. “I don’t have to do that anymore. And neither do you.”

I stare back at Nico for a moment, my old instincts screaming at me to put up walls, to push him out, to keep him from seeing any of my vulnerabilities. It’s what I’ve always done. It’s how I’ve survived. But as I look into his eyes, filled with genuine concern and understanding, I feel something inside me start to crumble.

I let out a shaky breath, pushing past those old self-preservation instincts.

“I just… I don’t understand how this is possible,” I say. “My father raised me to be part of his world. He tried to protect me, sure, but he never hid who he was or what he did from me. At least, I didn’t think so.”

Nico’s hand finds mine, offering silent support as I continue.

“But now? I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m doubting everything. Did he really trust me? Did he love me like I thought he did?” The words tumble out, each one more painful than the last. “He let this secret die with him, Nico. He set me up to be targeted. Why would he do that?”

I stand up abruptly, pacing the room as frustration and hurt bubble up inside me. “He could’ve told me all of this. I wouldn’t have been in the dark, searching for answers while someone manipulated and stalked me from the shadows. It doesn’t make sense!”

My voice cracks on the last word, and I stop pacing, wrapping my arms around myself. “I thought I knew him. I thought we were close. But now? It feels like I didn’t know him at all.”

Nico stands up, moving towards me slowly, like he’s afraid I might bolt. “Quinn, I’m sure your father had his reasons-”

“What reasons could possibly justify this?” I interrupt, anger flaring. “What reason could he have for leaving me vulnerable and unprepared?”

I turn away from Nico, staring out the window. The world outside looks so normal, so unchanged. It’s a stark contrast to how I feel inside—like my entire world has been turned upside down.

“I just… I don’t know how to reconcile the father I knew with the man who would keep something like this from me,” I admit softly. “It feels like betrayal. And I don’t know how to deal with that.”

I turn back to Nico, his words about his own father echoing in my mind. A sudden, terrible thought strikes me, and I feel my stomach drop.

“Was my dad… was he any different from yours in the end?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Did he just not care enough to tell me?”

The possibility tears at my heart, leaving a raw, aching wound. I’ve always believed my father loved me, that he cared deeply about my well-being. But now, faced with this hidden truth, doubt creeps in like a poison.

“I mean, he left me in the dark about all of this,” I continue, my voice growing thick with emotion. “He had to know how dangerous it was, right? How could he just… not warn me?”

I feel a lump forming in my throat, and my eyes are starting to burn. I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. I don’t want to cry, but the pain is intense. It’s a lot to fucking deal with.

“What if he didn’t trust me? What if he thought I couldn’t handle it?” The words tumble out, each one more painful than the last. “Or worse, what if he just didn’t care enough to bother?”

I wrap my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room. The thought that my father might not have cared as much as I believed is like a physical blow, leaving me breathless and shaken.

“I just… I don’t understand,” I say, my voice cracking. “If he really loved me, how could he leave me so unprepared? How could he put me in danger like this?”

Nico reaches out and pulls me towards him. I let him guide me, too emotionally drained to resist. We’re both sitting on the edge of the bed, and I let him draw me onto his lap so that I’m straddling him, facing him directly. His hands come to rest on my hips, steadying me.

“Quinn, listen to me. Your father was nothing like mine. Nothing.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head, silencing me.

“You know, Jonah and I were rivals. Enemies. That goes without saying. But even back then, I could see what kind of man he was.”

I know he’s telling the truth—the truth as he knows it, anyway—and all I can do is nod.

“My old man?” he continues, a bitter edge to his voice. “He’s forgotten how shitty he was to me. His mind’s all fuzzy now, and he’s rewritten the past to make himself feel better. But your dad? He was never like that.”

I search Nico’s face, looking for any sign of pity or false comfort. But all I see is sincerity.

“Jonah loved you. That was clear as day to anyone who saw you two together. Whatever reason he had for keeping this from you, I guarantee it wasn’t because he didn’t care or didn’t trust you.”

His words start to chip away at the doubts that have been plaguing me. I want to believe him, desperately.

“But then why—” I start, hating how shaky my voice is right now.

There’s no judgment coming from Nico though. Only compassion.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I do know that he would never have intentionally put you in danger. He must have had a damn good reason for keeping this secret.”

His hands on my hips are grounding, keeping me present as my mind threatens to spiral again.

“You really think so?”

He nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “I know so. Look, your dad wasn’t just a good father. He was a good leader too. He looked out for the people he cared about—it’s part of what made him such a pain in my ass sometimes.”

A laugh escapes me in spite of the heaviness in my chest. It’s strange to hear Nico talk about my dad like this, showing nothing but respect for a man who used to be one of his biggest rivals.

“Enigma was always one step ahead,” Nico continues, a wry smile on his face. “Always thinking about his people, always planning for their safety. It drove me crazy, but I couldn’t help but admire him for it.”

His words paint a picture of my father that aligns with the man I knew, the leader I looked up to. It helps soothe some of the doubts that have been gnawing at me.

“Not to mention,” he says, a small grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Your dad must’ve been a good father, because he raised an amazing woman as a daughter.”

My heart thuds at his words. I’m not even sure he meant to say them, to admit he thinks I’m amazing. It’s like they just came out unconsciously. The sincerity in his eyes catches me off guard, making my breath hitch.

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. “That’s… that’s a flawed argument,” I manage. “You had a shitty father, and you’re still one of the most incredible men I know.”

Nico’s eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his face. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us feels charged, electric. His hands tighten on my hips, and I’m intensely aware of how close we are.

Something shifts in his gaze. He moves one hand from my hip, slowly sliding it up my back until he’s cupping the nape of my neck. His fingers tangle in my hair, making my back arch as he gives a gentle pull.

“I wanted to hate you so badly,” he confesses.

I nod, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “I wanted to hate you too. Fuck, I tried so hard.”

“Do you?” he asks quietly. “Hate me?”

I think about everything that’s happened between us, everything that got us to where we are now. The rivalry between our families, the tension, the fights. But also the moments of understanding, the unexpected kindness, the growing attraction neither of us could deny.

I think about how he’s been there for me through this crisis, how he’s supported me even when I pushed him away. I remember the way he looked at me in the club, the electricity between us when we danced. I recall the gentleness in his touch, the fire in his eyes.

I shake my head slowly. “No,” I finally admit. “I don’t hate you. Not even close.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin.

“Ti sei insinuata così tanto sotto la mia pelle che non so come tirarti fuori, mia cara.”

I don’t understand most of what he’s saying, but I recognize the last part—“mia cara.” It’s the nickname he’s been using for me more and more, but this time it sounds different. When he first started calling me that, it was dripping with sarcasm, a biting reminder that we were supposed to be enemies. But now? Now it sounds honest. Real.

I don’t know who moves first. Maybe we both do. But suddenly, our lips meet in a kiss that’s soft and tentative at first. It’s like we’re both afraid to break the spell, to shatter this fragile moment.

The kiss deepens slowly, unhurriedly. There’s no rush, no desperate need to consume each other. Instead, it feels like we’re exploring, savoring every sensation.

I lose myself in the kiss, in the feeling of his lips moving against mine. It’s not about the attraction that’s always simmered between us, not about the heat or the passion. This feels different. Deeper. Like we’re connecting on a level I didn’t even know existed.

My hands move of their own accord, sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. His free hand tightens on my hip, pulling me closer. Our tongues dance together, slow and sensual, as the kiss grows more intense.

The world fades away until there’s nothing but this moment, nothing but Nico and me and this kiss that seems to go on forever. I feel like I’m drowning in sensation, in emotion.

Gradually, what started as slow and tender becomes more passionate, more urgent. Nico’s hand slides from my hip to my lower back, pressing me against him. I arch into him, a soft moan escaping me.

His hands start to wander, tracing patterns on my skin through my shirt. The touch sends shivers down my spine, lighting a fire deep down inside me as his hands move to the hem of my shirt.

The kiss breaks, and we’re both panting, eyes locked. In one fluid motion, he has my shirt off and tossed aside, revealing the bare skin of my chest and the marks etched onto my breast.

His gaze travels over me, pausing at the new addition. “When did Killian do this?”

There isn’t any anger or even a hint of jealousy in his voice, like I’m half-expecting. Just genuine curiosity.

“Couple of days ago. I asked him to do it.”

There’s a glint of something like satisfaction in his expression. He traces his fingers over his own mark, surrounded now by the other two. His touch sends another wave of shivers through me.

“I like it better like this,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the marks. “Mine, right there with the others. It feels complete.”

I nod, a strange sense of pride swelling within me. “I like it too.”

Something in my admission seems to please him. His hand palms the back of my head, and he pulls me into another kiss. This one is different—hungrier, more insistent.

His lips trail down my neck, sending sparks of pleasure through me. His hands move to my back, pulling me tightly against him. I can feel his cock pressing against my stomach, sending a wave of desire washing over me.

I want him right now, right this second, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

My hands move on their own, reaching down to tease him through his pants. I want to feel him, all of him. But as soon as my hand closes around his hard length, he stops me, grabbing my wrist gently but firmly.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warns, his voice dangerously low.

I smirk, heat already pooling in my core at the challenge. “What makes you think I won’t finish?”

There’s a flash of something hot and primal in his eyes, and he suddenly grabs my hand, pulling me up.

“Stand up,” he orders.

I obey, my heart pounding as he steps back, his eyes raking over me. “Strip.”

The command sends another jolt of wet heat through me, and I don’t hesitate for a second. My jeans and panties hit the floor, and I kick them to the side, letting them join my already discarded top.

His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me, naked and wanting. “Get on your knees.”

Again, it isn’t a request, and my body responds instantly. Something about submitting to him right now is giving me such a fucking rush, and I sink to my knees in front of him.

He doesn’t have to tell me what to do this time.

My hands move to his belt, quickly unbuckling it and pulling it free of the loops. I pop the button on his pants and slowly lower the zipper, peeling back the fabric to reveal his obscenely tented boxer briefs.

I hook my thumbs into the waistband and pull them down, freeing his hard cock. It springs up, thick and heavy in my hand. I wrap my fingers around him, slowly pumping as I savor the feel of him.

But Nico has other ideas. With a gentle tug on my hair, he urges me forward until my lips are just a breath away from the head of his cock.

“Suck it,” he orders, his voice gravelly with desire.

I lick my lips and lean forward, taking the head into my mouth and swirling my tongue around it. I taste the salty tang of pre-cum, and a moan vibrates in my throat, humming around his length.

Nico’s hands tangle in my hair, guiding me as I take more of him into my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, sucking hard as I bob my head, taking him deeper with each stroke.

“Fuck, Quinn,” he groans, his hips jerking slightly. “You’ve got a fucking amazing mouth.”

His words spur me on, and I moan my approval, the vibrations making him hiss and tighten his grip on my hair. I suck and lick, taking him deep into my throat, then pulling back to swirl my tongue around the head.

“Goddamn, that’s good,” he growls. “Wrap your hand around the base, squeeze tight. Yeah, just like that.”

I do as he says, tightening my grip at the base of his shaft as I suck and lick, teasing the head with my tongue. I love the way he watches me, his eyes dark with lust, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

“You know what I love most about this?” he says, his voice husky. “Knowing that it’s my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours. How many men would kill to be where I’m at right now?”

The filthy praise sends a rush of heat between my legs, making me even wetter. I moan my agreement, the vibrations making him groan and tighten his hold on my hair. He begins to thrust gently, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm as he slides in and out of my mouth.

“That’s it, take it,” he encourages, his voice rough. “Wrap your lips around me and fucking suck me deep. Deep as you can.”

But just as I’m getting into a steady rhythm, Nico surprises me by pulling away. I whimper at the loss, my lips feeling sensitive and swollen as I look up at him.

“I’m not going to come in your mouth, mia cara,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “When I come, I want to be inside you.” He strokes my cheek gently, in contrast with the dirty things he’s telling me to do. “Get on my cock. Ride me.”

His words are a command, but they’re also an invitation—an invitation to take what I need, to use him to satisfy the ache that’s burning inside me.

Without wasting a moment, I straddle him and line myself up with his cock. Slowly, I sink down, feeling myself stretch to accommodate his thick length. His hands come to rest on my hips, guiding me, encouraging me to take my time.

“That’s it. Take it all. Ride that cock.”

I sink down farther, my breath catching as I feel him fill me completely. It’s overwhelming, just like it always is with him—a perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“God,” I moan, giving myself a moment to appreciate how full I am right now. It’s as if his cock was made just for my body. “Feels so damn good.”

A smile spreads across his face, and he reaches up to cup my cheek. “Then move, mia cara. Take what you need. Use my cock to get yourself off.”

I don’t need any more encouragement. I start to move, lifting myself up slowly before sinking back down, taking him deep. It’s slow and steady at first, a sensual, hypnotic rhythm.

Nico’s hands tighten on my hips as I ride him, his eyes never leaving mine. “That’s it, just like that. Fuck, you have no idea how good that pussy feels.”

Hearing him talk dirty stokes the fire burning inside me. I quicken the pace, lifting and lowering myself on his cock, finding a rhythm that has pleasure coursing through my veins.

“Yeah, there you go,” he encourages. “Such a good little wife, fucking yourself on my cock.”

“You close?” His voice is raw, his eyes hooded with desire.

I nod, breathless, as I drop my forehead to his, my hair creating a curtain around us. “So close.”

His hands tighten on my hips, and he urges me to keep moving, a hard roll of his hips lifting me momentarily before I sink back down.

“Then come for me. Ride my cock and let yourself go.”

His words are my undoing. I cry out as the pleasure takes hold, my body bowing as I grind down on him. My hands splay across his chest, nails digging into his skin as I start to surrender to the wave that’s crashing over me.

“Look at me, mia cara.” Nico grips my chin, forcing my head up so our eyes meet. “Turn around and let Atlas see how gorgeous you look when you’re coming all over my cock.”