Page 120 of Crown of Lies

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 fresheyes 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.

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