Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2)

34. Quinn

34

QUINN

It’s not a long ride to the tattoo shop, but it feels like forever today as I lead the Princes of Carnage to my club’s inner sanctum. It’s strange bringing them here, to the heart of Enigma territory, but I’m determined to find something—anything—that might lead us to that damned marker.

And I want to show them that I really do trust them. I want to prove that things are different between us now.

As we walk into the shop, the familiar buzz of activity surrounds me. The low hum of conversations and the whirring of tattoo guns are comforting sounds after everything I’ve been through lately.

One by one, my people look up from their stations, their eyes widening at the sight of the four of us together. There’s still a hint of suspicion in their gazes, but it’s muted compared to the earlier days of the Princes’ presence in my life.

Emmett, my dutiful second, spots us and makes a beeline across the shop. I feel the men tense beside me, their protective instincts kicking in. Possessiveness rolls off them in waves, but I gently nudge Nico, the unspoken signal for them to stand down. We can’t afford any tension or conflict here, not when everything is starting to finally get better.

I move aside with Emmett, keeping my voice low. The Princes hang back, giving us space but staying close enough to intervene if needed.

“What’s going on, Quinn?” Emmett asks, his brow furrowed. “Why are they here?”

I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “We’re working together to find something important. Something my father was given a long time ago.”

Emmett’s eyes narrow. “What kind of something?”

“It’s complicated,” I say, since that’s the absolute fucking truth. “But it’s related to why someone’s still after our gang. We need to find it before they do.”

“And you trust them with this?” He nods towards the Princes.

I meet his gaze steadily. “I do. We’re in this together now.”

Emmett leans in closer. “What exactly is this thing? Why’s it so important?”

I hesitate, feeling the weight of everything we’ve learned pressing down on me. The marker, The Saint, Silas—it’s all connected in ways I’m still trying to understand. Sharing too much could put Emmett and the others in danger.

“I promise I’ll tell you everything once we find it and deal with the situation,” I say finally. “But for now, the less you know, the safer you are.”

Emmett’s jaw tightens, his brow furrowing deeper. I recognize the glare, and he’s worked with me long enough to see the familiar signs. I’m holding back, and he knows it.

“You’ve told them everything, haven’t you? While keeping us in the dark.”

I grit my teeth, feeling a familiar defensiveness rise within me. “I haven’t told them everything. But they know more because they’re helping. They chose me, Emmett.”

“That’s your problem,” he says insistently. “You’re forgetting they’re still the enemy. You can’t trust them like you trust us.” His eyes dart toward the Princes, his voice lowering to a fierce whisper. “You know they’d tear us apart if they thought they had half a chance. Don’t let feelings cloud your judgment.”

I flinch, feeling the weight of his words. The old me would’ve been screaming the same concerns, suspicious of every move the Princes made. But everything’s changed, and I’m not that person anymore.

“I know they risked their lives to save me from the Young Killers. They didn’t have to do that. They sure as hell didn’t have to show up when I needed them—when they knew it was a trap. This isn’t just some game to them, and it’s not to me either.”

Emmett crosses his arms, his expression unyielding. “That doesn’t change who they are, Quinn. They’re loyal to their club first and foremost. Just like we are.”

“And Nico’s loyal to me. He’s my husband. He took those vows in front of the universe and everyone.” I pause, then lean in closer for emphasis. “Just like I did.”

Emmett studies me, his gaze flicking briefly to Nico, then back to me. “What about the other two?” His eyes flash—a spark of realization, of memory. I know he’s thinking about that night, about Atlas.

I’m thinking about it, anyway.

“I’m with them too,” I admit. I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. What we’re doing isn’t traditional, but it’s ours. “It’s not something I planned or expected, but it just happened this way.”

Uncertainty flickers across Emmett’s face, and his brow furrows again as he searches my eyes. “Is this why nothing ever happened between you and me? You needed—you wanted… this?” He gestures vaguely, his jaw clenching.

I shake my head, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “No, Emmett. I never expected this. It was never a choice or a plan.” I take a second to keep my tone in check. I don’t want to give Emmett the wrong idea, but I don’t want to be a bitch about it, either. “And nothing would’ve happened between us, not like that. I care about you, I value you as my friend and my second, but that’s all.”

He stares at me, his eyes searching for something—maybe a sign of a lie or hesitation. But I’ve made my peace with this. I know what I want, and it’s not something I’ll ever look to Emmett for.

“You and me, Emmett… it was never going to be that way,” I continue gently. “I don’t have those kinds of feelings for you, and I never did. I’m sorry if I led you on or gave you the wrong idea, but I need you to understand.”

Emmett’s eyes darken, his brows knitting together as he searches my face. “I guess I always hoped, but…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I care about you, Quinn. I would’ve done anything for you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. But this is how it is. I can’t change it, and I don’t want to.”

He nods, his expression pained. “I get it. I just never thought—I mean, with them being who they are…” He waves a hand, his voice trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“It’s a lot for me too,” I admit. “But it’s my choice, and I’m happy with it.”

Emmett’s shoulders slump slightly, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Okay. I’ll respect that. It’s your call.” He straightens, giving me a small, tight smile. “I’m gonna go check on the new shipment we were expecting. Make sure everything’s in order.”

“Thanks, Emmett.” I squeeze his arm, grateful for his understanding. “I need you to keep an eye on things, especially now that we’re dealing with this mess. You’re my right hand, and I trust you.”

He nods, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll keep ’em in line. You know that.” With one last look, he turns and walks out of the shop, his shoulders set in a determined line.

I watch him go, a weight lifting from my chest. I hate keeping things from Emmett, but I need him focused and clear-headed. We can’t risk him getting tangled up in our mess, especially not now.

Turning back to my three men, I take a deep breath. “Let’s go to the back room.” I push open the door, stepping aside to let them enter first. Their eyes widen as they take in the space—not just a back office, but a near-sacred place that’s filled with all the secrets of our gang.

As we walk in, I feel their surprise and the depth of their curiosity. This room is the beating heart of my world, where I’ve spent countless hours planning, strategizing, and keeping my people safe.

Their eyes dart around the space, taking in the maps, the documents, the half-empty bottles of liquor. This is the inner sanctum of the Enigma gang, and I’m letting them see it all. It’s a huge leap of faith, but I need them to understand just how much I trust them now.

“This is it,” I say simply. “Everything I have.”

That’s an understatement, considering this is the whole history of my club. Pictures, notes, and maps cover every surface—more than one lifetime’s worth of memories and secrets.

Their gazes linger on certain images, their expressions softening at the sight of my father. It’s a strange feeling, having them here, in this private space usually reserved for Enigma eyes only.

We begin to sort through the records and notes—old and newer ones, some dating back to when my father was still leading Enigma. I’d searched through these meticulously before, hunting for anything that could help us. Now, with their fresh eyes and perspective, I’m hopeful we can uncover something I might’ve missed the first time around. Something that will lead us to the marker or the Dark Lotus Syndicate.

I start sifting through a stack of old notebooks, the musty smell of aged paper filling my nostrils. The men spread out around the room, each taking a section to investigate. The silence is punctuated only by the rustle of papers and occasional muttered comments.

“Hey, check this out,” Atlas calls, holding up a faded photograph. It shows my father, younger and grinning, standing next to a gleaming motorcycle. “Your old man had good taste in bikes.”

I smile, a bittersweet ache in my chest. “Yeah, he loved that thing. Spent more time tinkering with it than riding it though.”

As we continue our search, I can’t help but notice the Princes’ reactions to some of the documents. Their eyes widen at certain passages, eyebrows raising as they read about past conflicts between our gangs.

Nico chuckles, holding up a weathered notebook. “Your dad sure had a way with words. Says here I’m a ‘cocky little shit with more hair than brains.’”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, he wasn’t wrong about the cocky part.”

“Or the hair,” Killian adds with a smirk, earning him a playful shove from Nico.

We fall into an easy rhythm, sorting through years of history. It’s surreal, watching the Princes of Carnage pore over Enigma’s secrets with such care and interest. There’s no hint of the old animosity, just a shared purpose and the occasional teasing remark.

“Your father really had it out for us, huh?” Atlas muses, flipping through a ledger. “There’s a whole section here dedicated to tracking our movements.”

I nod, a twinge of guilt in my chest. “Yeah, he was… pretty focused on taking you guys down.”

Nico looks up from a pile of maps, his expression softening. “Can’t blame him. I’m sure we were doing the same damn thing.”

As we continue our search, I can’t help but marvel at how much has changed. The very men my father saw as enemies are now here, helping me unravel the mysteries he left behind. It’s a strange twist of fate, but one I’m increasingly grateful for.

Suddenly, Killian’s voice breaks the silence. “Hey, Quinn, take a look at this.”

I move over to where he’s sitting, surrounded by stacks of yellowed papers. He hands me a crumpled note, my father’s messy scrawl covering its surface.

As I scan the contents, my heart starts to race. “Holy shit,” I breathe.

The note is vague, but there’s no mistaking what it’s about. My father mentions “DLS” several times—initials I now know stand for the Dark Lotus Syndicate. If I hadn’t already known what to look for, this cryptic reference would have meant nothing.

“What is it?” Atlas asks, peering over my shoulder.

I point to a particular line. “Look here. He’s talking about the DLS—that’s the Dark Lotus Syndicate. And there’s a name I’ve never heard of before. Malcolm Mercer.”

Nico frowns, leaning in to get a better look. “Yeah, that name doesn’t ring any bells for me either.”

“Same here,” Atlas adds, while Killian shakes his head.

I read the note again, trying to glean any additional information. “It doesn’t say much about who this guy is, but it definitely seems like he might have some connection to the DLS.”

“It’s not the marker,” Killian says, “but it’s something. Another piece of the puzzle.”

We spend the next hour combing through records and documents, but unfortunately, we don’t find any additional mentions of the mysterious man or the Dark Lotus Syndicate. It’s a dead end, for now.

As we finish up and walk outside, it’s hard not to feel more than a little disappointed. Yeah, we’ve gained some new information with that note, but we’re still no closer to finding the marker or understanding its significance.

My eyes scan the street, and suddenly, my heart lurches. There, across the road, I spot the masked man again. He’s standing by a car, and as he notices us, he quickly gets in and starts the engine.

“Shit!” I exclaim. “It’s him.”

Without thinking, I start running toward my bike, my heart pounding. We need to know who this guy is, who he’s working for.

“Quinn, wait!” Atlas calls after me, but I don’t stop.

The engine roars to life, and the car peels out, tires screeching as it speeds away. I quicken my pace, my eyes locked on the retreating vehicle.

“We’ve got to go after him!” I call over my shoulder. “We need to know who he is!”

I glance back at the men, expecting resistance, especially from Atlas, given our last encounter with my stalker. But this time, he surprises me.

Atlas nods, his eyes fierce. “We’ve got your back.”

I sprint to my bike, kickstarting the engine and pulling out into the street with a roar. I hear the familiar sound of the Princes’ bikes behind me as they follow suit.

We weave through the city traffic, the car always just barely in sight. I push my bike faster, feeling the thrill of the chase surge through me. We’re gaining on him, the son of a bitch. In my side mirrors, I can see my men leaning hard on their bikes. They’re just as invested in this chase as I am.

We swerve around a corner, and I spot the car up ahead. I rev my engine, urging my bike to go faster, knowing we’re just seconds away from catching up.

But as we approach the next intersection, the light turns red. The car speeds through without slowing, cutting sharply in front of a semi-truck. The truck slams on its brakes, but it’s too late. The massive vehicle lurches through the intersection right in front of me.

“Fuck!” I shout, my hands squeezing the brakes.

I’m not gonna be able to stop in time.