Page 117 of Princes of Carnage

Once they’re all dressed and ready to go, we head out to meet with the Young Killers.

We go to their territory for the meeting, which already puts me on edge. It’s easier to do this kind of shit on neutral ground, to make sure no one gets ahead of themselves or too big for their britches. Nico and I have both had dealings with them before. Just small stuff, nothing noteworthy, but if they’ve got it in their heads that they want trouble, I don’t want to be deep in their territory when shit pops off.

The spot they picked is an abandoned laundromat, with cracked, dirty floors and the outlines of the machines that used to occupy the space still visible on the worn out linoleum. We all file in together, and a few of the gang members watch as we enter the space. I can feel eyes tracking us, feel the tension in the air, even though there’s nothing about this that’s supposed to be hostile yet.

Nico, Atlas, and Killian stand to one side as we wait to speak to the Young Killers leader, talking quietly amongst themselves, and I take the chance to step away a little and scope things out. We’re not in their headquarters, I know that much, and it’s not as exposed as it could be.

If things break bad, we might be able to get out of here without too much hassle.

One of the members of the gang who has been watching us since we got here finally breaks away from the others and comes over to me.

I can tell from the way he carries himself that he’s lower level in the gang. Someone who wants to climb the ranks but probably has no patience. He has that jumped up, eager dog look about him.

That usually spells trouble.

Before I can say anything, he grabs my arm hard and pulls me into a little alcove that probably housed extra washing machines, getting close in my face.

“I know you’re gunning for more,” he spits, his voice low. “Enigma was never satisfied with what they had. Your father was always looking for toes to step on and people to cross, and you’re the fucking same. Getting Carnage involved isn’t gonna help you.”

I narrow my eyes and take a deep breath, trying not to fly off the handle. “Get your hand off me,” I tell him coldly.

His fingers dig in for a second, and I wonder if I’m going to have to break his hand to get him to let me go. That wouldn’t be a great start to our “peace negotiations.” But then he releases me, stepping back.

Clenching my jaw, I shove past him and out of the alcove, walking over to rejoin the three Princes. Anger roils in my belly, but I take a few deep breaths, trying to get my emotions back under control.

“There you are,” Nico says as I step up beside him. “Where were you?”

He looks me up and down, and his gaze lands immediately on the red finger marks on my arm from how tightly that fucker was holding on to me.

His face goes flat and angry, and he steps in closer, dropping his voice. “Who the fuck did that to you?”

“It’s not a big deal,” I tell him, shaking my head. “Don’t start shit over this. You were just bitching at Killian this morning for starting shit with other gangs.”

His eyes flash. “Quinn.”

“Nico, I’m serious. Drop it. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” His voice is low and intense. “Someone grabbed you hard enough to leave a mark behind. I don’t give a fuck why they did it, they had no goddamn right. So you either tell me who it was, or I’ll kill everyone in this room just to make sure I get the point across.”

He says it so matter-of-factly that I take a half step back, blinking in surprise. I’m not sure if he’s serious or if he’s just throwing his weight around.

But after what Killian did this morning, I’m not sure if I should test him.

“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. “Fine. It was that guy over there.” I jerk my thumb in the direction of the man who grabbed me. “Are you happy now?”

Nico gives me a hard smile, his eyes cold. “Thrilled.”

Without waiting for me to respond to that, he walks over, pulls out his gun, and shoots the man who grabbed me in the head.

The guy goes down hard, crumpling to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

For a split second, no one reacts, the sound of the gunshot still reverberating through the air as all the oxygen seems to be sucked out of the room.

Then all of the Young Killers snap out of their shock at once, angry shouts filling the silence. They all pull their own weapons, aiming them at Nico, and at the rest of us too.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I’m instantly on alert, my muscles tensing. My adrenaline spikes, my body slipping instinctively into a fighting stance in case we have to battle our way out of here.

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