Page 144 of Princes of Carnage

“Yeah, he fucking is.” Atlas’s voice is muffled, but he sounds annoyed. “And we still don’t know why the hell he wants to know so much about Quinn’s life.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nico says, his voice going hard. “What matters is that we need to—”

I don’t stay to hear the rest. Blood rushes in my ears as I spin on my heel quickly and dart quietly back to the front of the clubhouse. I push my way outside and stride back to my bike, a knot twisting in my stomach.

My heart thuds like a drumbeat as I replay what I just heard over and over again in my head.

They’re spies. They’re fucking spies.

The three of them have been gathering information about me this whole goddamn time. They wormed their way into my life, into my house, just so they could gather information on me. For someone I’ve never heard of, and clearly for a price.

Atlas told me once that their gang occasionally does ‘freelance’ work of a questionable nature as long as the payout is high enough. Is that what this is? Just another job to them?

Everything I thought about how maybe we could set aside our old enmities and rivalries and become true partners, how we could make this a lasting alliance—all of that was built on a fucking lie.

And I fell for it. Hook, line, and goddamn sinker.

That’s why Nico wanted to marry me. That’s why he insisted on living with me. It wasn’t enough for us to just be partners in name. He had to be close enough so that they could go through my shit and report back to whoever the fuck The Saint is.

This whole time, all the closeness between us has been because they were spying on me.

I was starting to fall for them, and they were just playing me.

That realization hits me harder than I expected, and I almost double over, clutching at my chest. There’s something gnawing deep inside it, a burning pain that blocks out everything else.

I feel broken and crushed, and so, so stupid. I let myself believe that this could be something good, that it could turn into something more. I trusted them, against my own instincts. And for what?

I clutch the handlebars of the bike, taking deep, shuddering breaths. I can feel tears prickling at my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I don’t want to cry for them, not now. I fucking won’t.

It takes a moment, but eventually, I manage to steel myself. I straighten up, squaring my shoulders and letting out a long breath.

Fine. If this is how it is, then fine.

I’m not going to let them win. I’m not going to let them hurt me. I’ll pretend I don’t know what they’re doing, play along with their little game…

And then I’ll find a way to ruin them.

45

KILLIAN

Once we’re done handling business, I leave the clubhouse. There’s a heaviness in my chest as I do, weighing me down as I head for my bike, and that’s an unfamiliar feeling for me.

I’ve never been accused of being an emotional person, and guilt is an almost entirely foreign feeling. The things I do never give me pause, and they don’t weigh on me after I’ve done them. Everything is done for a reason, so there’s no need to feel guilt. But I don’t feel right about the fact that we ever agreed to work for The Saint.

I never once felt bad about stalking Quinn. Not even when she found out and was pissed at me for it. Because it never hurt her. I never felt bad about lying to her about it either, because if I had told her the truth right away, she wouldn’t have been ready to hear it.

Things had to happen the way they did, and I believe that.

But this is different. Maybe it’s because this job is meant to benefit someone else entirely, and we don’t know the point to it or what the end goal is. We’re just spying on Quinn for someone else’s benefit.

I shake my head, trying to clear the chaotic tangle of my thoughts. I don’t like it when it gets like that, everything jumbled up, one thought tangled in another with no idea where one ends and the other begins. I like things more orderly, everything with a place and a process.

There’s no point in stewing about this anyway. I’ve chosen to trust Nico, and I do trust his judgement. After the meeting we just had, we’re all on the same page, and I know we’ve made the right choice.

I get on my bike and head back toward the house, leaving Nico and Atlas to handle the other Carnage business that needs to be dealt with. It doesn’t require me to be there, more suited for the two of them, and I use the bike ride to clear my head further.

When I arrive, I find Quinn in the living room. She’s sitting on the couch, watching the steam curl into the air from a cup of tea that’s sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

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