Page 125 of Crown of Lies

I start the engine, and the deep rumble vibrates between us. As we pull away, I feel her relax, her body molding to mine as we weave through the city streets. I take a route that lets me open up the throttle, feeling her press closer with each surge of speed.

“You okay back there?” I shout over the wind, already knowing the answer.

“Better than okay!” her voice is eager, excited even. “This is a perfect night!”

I can’t help but smile. I squeeze the throttle a little harder, pushing the bike faster. The wind whips at us, but she holds on tight, her body moving with mine as I lean into the turns.

We fly down the road, and it hits me—this is what I want. Not the bike, not the speed, but her. Quinn. This feeling of having her with me, a part of me. I’m done fighting it.

Too soon, we pull up in front of the clubhouse. I kill the engine, and for a moment, we just sit there. I don’t want this ride to end, but more than that, I don’t want to let her go.

Slowly, she slides her arms from my waist and climbs off the bike. Her eyes are sparkling, and she bites her lip as she meets my gaze.

I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her close. Our bodies press together, and I can feel her heart racing. “Thanks for the ride,” she says.

There’s no reluctance. No hesitation. No smart-ass commentary.

“Anytime,” I answer, never meaning it more than in this moment.

I swing my leg off the bike, keeping my eyes locked on Quinn. The world around us fades away, and for a moment, it’s just us. The chaos, the danger, the unanswered questions—they’re all still there, but they feel distant, less pressing.

As we walk toward the clubhouse, we fall in step between Nico and Killian. Quinn is right here between us, safe and protected. It feels right. Natural. Like this is how it was meant to be.

The moment we step through the doors of the new clubhouse, the noise hits me. It’s not as big or as nice as our old place, but it’s alive with energy. There’s been a good turnout, and the buzz of conversation and laughter surrounds us.

“There they are!”

One of our guys, Jaden, rushes over, a wide grin splitting his face. He slaps me on the back, then turns to Killian and Nico, nodding in respect. Even Quinn gets a respectful tip of the head.Seems like some of our crew are coming around to the idea of an alliance with Enigma.

The room is a mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. Our core group is here, but I also spot new recruits, with their eager, untested faces. It’s still a far cry from the old days, but at least we’re rebuilding.

“Hey, glad you guys made it,” Jaden says.

Nico nods. “We have a lot to celebrate tonight. This place might not be as fancy as our last clubhouse, but it’s ours.”

He’s right. The new clubhouse is definitely a step down. It’s smaller, the walls are dingy, and the furniture is worn. But it’s a base, a place to call our own. And it sends a message to any other gangs thinking of muscling in on our territory. We’re not backing down. We’re still here, and we’re not going anywhere.

As we move farther into the room, I feel a sense of belonging. This is my family, my crew. They look to me, to Killian, and Nico for leadership, for protection. Even with our reduced numbers, we stand strong.

Someone puts a drink in my hand, and I take a long swig, feeling the burn of whiskey slide down my throat. The music blasts, and I spot a few of our girls dancing, their faces lit up without a care in the world.

Scanning the room, I spot her.

Zoey.

She’s standing near the back and laughing at something Stefan has said. He’s one of our prospects, a real brown-noser, always trying to impress. I never paid him much mind, but right now, I’m grateful to him. She’s smiling and seems to be having a good time. And for once, it seems like she’s not looking at me.

I’ve been trying to put space between us, and now it seems like she’s finally moving on. With this thought, a weight lifts from my shoulders. Seeing her with someone else—it’s almost a relief.

The night wears on, and I find myself relaxing for the first time in days. Quinn sticks close to us, her presence a constant reminder of why we’re fighting so hard. She fits in almost seamlessly, laughing at Nico’s jokes and matching Killian drink for drink.

I catch myself glancing at Zoey once or twice, but there’s no jealousy, no regret. Just a sense of closure. She seems happy, and I’m glad for her.

After a while, I excuse myself to grab another drink. The makeshift bar is crowded, so I have to elbow my way through. I’m just about to order when I feel a hand on my arm.

“Atlas.”

I turn to find Zoey standing there, her eyes glassy from the alcohol. She sways slightly, steadying herself against me.

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