Crown of Lies (Pretty Ruthless Monsters #2)

37. Quinn

37

QUINN

Fuck .

My heart stutters to a complete stop as Zoey’s accusation rings out. Around me, I feel Nico, Killian, and Atlas go rigid, coiled springs ready to snap.

“What the actual fuck, Zoey?” Nico spits out, his voice strangled and gravelly, whether from surprise or anger or both.

The room erupts into a flurry of voices, some sounding confused, others already laced with anger.

“That’s a lie!” Tyler yells, his face a mask of disbelief as he looks at me. “Quinn couldn’t do something like that right under our noses. She wouldn’t?—”

“I saw her,” Zoey interrupts, her voice dripping with venom. “I saw her with my own eyes. She was at the clubhouse. I watched her spread the accelerant, watched her light the match and throw it. The whole damn place went up in flames, and she started it.”

Jesus.

This woman really fucking hates me.

Muttered curses mix with shouts of betrayal. Fingers point in my direction, some members of Princes turning to Atlas, Killian, and Nico, demanding answers. Their faces are hard as they close ranks around me.

Nico’s jaw clenches, his eyes flicking to me for just a second before he addresses his people. “Listen, everyone. Just calm the fuck down for a second, okay? This shit is… it’s complicated, but I promise you, I’ve always had your best interests at heart. Everything I’ve done has been to protect this gang, to make us stronger.” His voice is steady, firm, the voice of a leader. But the doubt has already taken root.

Shouts erupt from the crowd, voices overlapping in chaos. It’s hard to make out individual words, but the sentiment is clear: they’re not buying it.

“Seems like you’ve been more interested in fucking that Enigma whore you married!” A distinctive voice rings out, bitter and accusatory.

Something dangerous flickers across Nico’s face, and for a second, I see the beast lurking beneath the surface, the one he usually keeps caged. His eyes narrow, and he takes a menacing step forward, his voice low and threatening. “That’s my wife you’re talking about. Show some damn respect or get the hell out.”

A tense silence follows, the crowd holding its breath, waiting to see if the challenger will back down or double down.

“I just want some damn answers, Nico!” The guy yells, his face red, whether from too much alcohol or anger, it’s hard to tell. “You’ve been keeping things from us, and now we know why! She’s been playing you, and you fell for it, and now?—”

Nico moves lightning-fast, and I see the flash of a blade. The man stumbles back out of the way just before getting sliced.

“Enough!” Nico roars, the beast unleashed now, his eyes wild. “Anyone else wanna question me? My loyalty?” He glares at the crowd, daring anyone to step forward. “This ends now. We have bigger problems than whatever grudge you have against my wife. We need to focus on our enemies, not each other!”

The crowd surges closer like a wave driven by mounting rage. I feel Nico shift beside me, tense and coiled, like he’s about to strike. Killian and Atlas move in sync, creating a protective circle around me, but the crowd of increasingly furious faces is closing in.

“Lying bitch!” A woman’s voice cuts through the noise, her lips curled in a snarl as she turns to Nico. “You dragged our enemy right into our home. Put her in your fucking bed!”

Her words ignite the crowd, and it’s like the whole room explodes. Anger swells, their fury at losing their clubhouse now magnified and aimed right at me. I feel it like a force, pushing against me, threatening to swallow me whole.

Nico holds his ground, his face draining of color. “Stand the fuck down!” He yells, his voice reverberating through the room. “She’s my wife! Anyone touches her, they answer to me!”

But his voice is drowned out by the crowd, their mistrust of me now deepening into something more insidious.

Fingers point, accusations flying. I feel exposed, vulnerable the way I would in enemy territory, despite the protective wall of Nico’s men around me.

“Traitor!”

“You burned our home, you cunt!”

“Get her the fuck out of here!”

The room is practically shaking with their anger, and I feel it too, their hurt. These are loyal, protective people, and their sacred space has been violated. The clubhouse was their haven, and they’re displaced now, seeking something—someone—to blame. And that someone is me.

“Nico, do something!” Atlas yells, desperation creeping into his voice as he struggles to keep the peace. “This is getting out of hand!”

But Nico’s usual command over his people seems to be slipping. The beast he unleashed earlier isn’t so easily caged, and his pleas for calm fall on deaf ears. The crowd pushes forward, their hands reaching, their eyes burning holes into me.

The air crackles with fury, a tangible force pushing against my skin. Faces blur as they twist in anger, mouths moving, voices raised in hatred. I’m surrounded, caged in by their accusations, my name on their lips, twisted and spat like a curse.

And then I see her—Zoey. Her face stands out in the sea of fury, a mocking, vicious smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She meets my eyes, and her smile widens, her gaze daring me to do something, almost reveling in the chaos she’s unleashed.

My pulse quickens as someone lunges, their hand grabbing for me. Instinct takes over, and I shove them away. My body is acting on its own, fueled by the surging adrenaline. I’m suddenly aware of every detail around me—the snarl on a man’s face as he moves closer, the glint of metal in someone’s hand, the shouting so loud it seems to vibrate in my bones.

Atlas, Nico, and Killian form a protective barrier around me, but the crowd is pushing in, their anger consuming everything in its path. I know that look in their eyes—I’ve seen it before. They want blood. They want revenge. And they’ve found their target.

Unlike with the three men I’ve grown close to, there’s no trust here, no bond. I’m an outsider, an enemy, and in their eyes, I’m guilty as charged.

A hand snakes out, grabbing my hair, yanking me back. Pain shoots down my scalp, and I cry out, lashing out blindly. My fist connects with something solid, and I feel teeth clash as my hand connects with a face. The person stumbles back, and I use the brief respite to try to duck out of the grasps, my heart thudding.

“Let her go!” Killian’s voice cuts through loud and clear. But it only seems to fuel the crowd’s rage. More hands reach for me, gripping my arms, my jacket.

Nico’s roar finally cuts through the crowd’s rage, calming them for at least a few seconds as their eyes flick to him. For the first time since Zoey opened her mouth, the room actually goes silent. “I said, back the fuck off!”

The tension is thick, as if the whole room is hanging on Nico’s next words. “If anyone lays another goddamn hand on my wife, they’re answering to me. You got that?” His voice is hard as steel, and it sobers more than a few faces in the crowd. “I’ve made mistakes, that’s on me. I should’ve told you all what was going on, but I was trying to protect this gang, protect what we’ve built. The clubhouse burning down—that’s my fault. Not hers. If you wanna blame someone, blame me.”

There’s a mutinous rumble at his admission, but Nico powers on, his voice unwavering. “I trust Quinn, and I know she’s not responsible for this shitshow. We’ve got an alliance now with Enigma, and together, we can be one of the strongest gangs in Detroit. But we need to stick together, not turn on each other.”

I hold my breath, watching as Nico’s words seem to sink in. For a moment, the tension in the room eases, and I dare to hope. Maybe he’s gotten through to them. Maybe this nightmare will end, and we can all take a step back, figure things out rationally.

But then I see it—the spark of rebellion igniting in their eyes. The silence shatters like glass.

“Fuck that!” someone shouts. “You’re choosing her over us!”

The crowd surges forward again, a tidal wave of fury. Fists fly, and I hear the sickening crunch of bone meeting flesh. Nico’s in the thick of it, trading blows with men who, just moments ago, would have followed him anywhere.

“You’re not fit to lead us anymore!” The words cut through the chaos, a death knell for Nico’s leadership.

I duck as a bottle whizzes past my head, shattering against the wall behind me. Killian grabs my arm, pulling me away from a swinging fist. I lash out, my knuckles connecting with someone’s jaw. Pain radiates up my arm, but adrenaline dulls it.

Atlas is a blur of motion, taking on three guys at once. Blood trickles from a cut above his eye, but he doesn’t slow down. Nico is in the center of the storm, his face a mask of fury and disbelief as he fights off his own people.

“We need to get Quinn out of here!” Nico shouts over the chaos, his eyes meeting Killian’s. “Now!”

Killian nods, his grip on my arm tightening. We start to move, fighting our way through the crowd. I feel hands grabbing at me, trying to pull me back. I twist and kick, my elbow connecting with someone’s nose. There’s a spray of blood, a howl of pain.

I struggle against the tide of angry bodies, my heart pounding in my ears. Killian’s grip on my arm is like iron as he drags me through the chaos. Nico and Atlas flank us, fists flying, clearing a path.

A fist connects with my jaw, sending pain shooting through my face. I taste blood but keep moving. Nico roars, tackling the guy who hit me. They crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

“Keep going!” Atlas shouts, shoving me forward.

We’re almost at the door when I hear the distinctive click of a gun being cocked. Time seems to slow as I turn, seeing someone aim a pistol at us.

“Fuck!” Killian yells, pushing me down as a shot rings out.

The bullet whizzes over our heads, embedding itself in the wall. Chaos erupts anew as people scramble for cover.

We use the distraction to burst through the doors into the cool night air. The parking lot is a sea of motorcycles, and we sprint toward ours.

“Get her out of here!” Atlas yells to Nico as he and Killian peel off towards their own bikes.

Nico is already straddling his motorcycle, the engine roaring to life. I jump on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist just as angry shouts erupt from the building.

We tear out of the lot, the wind whipping at my face. I look back to see a group of bikers right behind us, their headlights cutting through the darkness.

“Hang on tight!” Nico yells over the wind.

I tighten my grip as he takes a sharp turn, the bike leaning so far I can almost touch the pavement. The pursuers are gaining on us, the roar of their engines growing louder.

“My gun!” Nico shouts. “Right side, under my jacket!”

I reach around him, fumbling until my fingers close around the cold metal. I pull it free, turning awkwardly in my seat.

“Don’t kill anyone!” Nico warns as we take another turn.

I aim for the front tire of the closest bike, squeezing the trigger. The gun kicks in my hand, the shot going wide. I take a second to steady my arm before firing again.

This time, I hit my mark. The bike’s front tire explodes, sending the rider skidding across the pavement. He tumbles, but I can see him moving as we speed away.

The other pursuers fall back, likely stopping to help their fallen brother. I turn back around, pressing my cheek against Nico’s back as we race into the night, leaving Carnage territory behind.