Page 154 of Princes of Carnage

“I know what you were doing,” she bites out. “I know the real reason you were so insistent that we get married, and why you three just had to live in my fucking house.” Her voice cracks out like a whip in the night, and she looks past me to Atlas and Killian for just a second. “You were spying on me for someone. This whole goddamn time. You got close to me, just so you could sell my secrets to the highest bidder! All that talk about keeping our gangs safe, about needing to trust me, and here you were, lying the whole fucking time.”

I suck in a breath, my anger temporarily washed away by a sudden rush of guilt.

She knows.

“Quinn—” Atlas starts, but she turns her glare on him.

“Shut the fuck up,” she hisses. “I don’t want to hear any bullshit excuses. I may be married to Nico, but you and Killian betrayed me just as much as he did. All of you lied to me. All of you used me. And I was starting to—” She breaks off, her jaw snapping shut. “Never mind. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“It’s not what you think,” I tell her, drawing her attention back to me.

“The fuck it isn’t!” she snaps. “I heard you admit it. I came here earlier today to give you something. A fucking wedding gift.” She laughs harshly. “But I never got the chance to give it to you, because I overheard the three of you discussing your little mission. How The Saint—whoever the fuck that is—was waiting for more info on me.”

“So you were eavesdropping.”

She rolls her eyes, her lips curling. “Don’t give me that shit, Nico. I’m glad I heard it, because now I know what kind of people you are and the scam you were running. Now I know I can’t fucking trust you, which I should have remembered this whole goddamn time.”

I curl my hands into fists, breathing hard through my nose. “If you overheard us discussing it, then you must have missed the part where we agreed that we’re done. We decided to renege on our agreement with The Saint and stop feeding him intel about you.”

My words bring her up short, so clearly she didn’t know that. She blinks at me, surprise and a hint of vulnerability flashing through her eyes as she lowers the gun a fraction of an inch. In the flickering light of the fire, I can see emotions warring in her expression, and it looks like how my chest feels right now—a chaotic mess of feelings.

But her momentary struggle doesn’t last long. She shakes her head, anger and hurt clearly overriding whatever else she’s feeling.

“It doesn’t fucking matter that you had a crisis of conscience in the end. You betrayed me. You made me think you—” She cuts herself off sharply. “You lied to me.”

“So you burned down our fucking clubhouse?” I growl back. “That seemed fair to you?”

A vicious smile spreads across her lips, her gray eyes turning flinty. “What’s yours is mine, husband. You made sure of that when you insisted we get married. And I felt like burning something of mine since I was so pissed off.”

The guilt had been winning out, knowing that Quinn was so hurt by us lying to her. We were getting closer, and things had been shifting between us for a while now, so I could understand her being angry about what she learned, despite the fact that we’ve decided to stop working for The Saint.

But now… now anger surges to the forefront. Her flippant way of talking about how she just destroyed something I love is enough to make sure of that.

Fuck this, and fuck her.

Carnage and Enigma have always been enemies. Until recently, Quinn and I had always been enemies too, and now it’s clear that we always will be.

I take a step toward her, fury simmering in my veins and making my voice harsh. “You’ve just made a big fucking mistake, mia cara,” I tell her, twisting the words of the nickname I gave her.

Her gun comes back up, pointed directly at my face as she narrows her eyes. “It was your mistake first, Nico. I was just making it right.”

“You’re gonna shoot your own husband?” I ask, taking a slow, measured step toward her.

Her lips pull back. “You’re not my husband. Not in any way that counts.”

“The mark on your chest says otherwise.” I take another step.

“That’s easy enough to fix.” Her finger slides over the trigger. “We said ‘until death do us part,’ didn’t we?”

The heat of the blaze from the nearby building has a sheen of sweat covering my skin. My heart thuds hard in my chest as I stare past the barrel of the gun at Quinn’s face. I can feel Killian and Atlas behind me, feel the tension radiating from them as they watch—probably looking for an opening, just like I am.

I know Quinn well enough by now to know that she wouldn’t pull a gun on a man unless she was willing to use it, which means I’ll only have one chance to get past her defenses before I catch a bullet between my eyes. She won’t hesitate to shoot me, and I’m honestly not sure why she hasn’t done it already.

Quinn readjusts her grip, her arm probably tired from holding the gun out for so long. It’s not much, just a tiny movement, but it’s all I’m likely to get. Bursting into motion, I throw myself forward, ready to grab her wrist and try to wrench the weapon out of her hand.

As I move, a gunshot rings out, splitting the quiet of the night. I freeze, so certain for a second that she’s shot me—but there’s no pain, no blood.

Instead, Quinn gasps in shock, dropping her gun and clutching her arm.

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