Page 129 of Crown of Lies

“Nico, do something!” Atlas yells, desperation creeping into his voice as he struggles to keep the peace. “This is getting out of hand!”

But Nico’s usual command over his people seems to be slipping. The beast he unleashed earlier isn’t so easily caged, and his pleas for calm fall on deaf ears. The crowd pushes forward, their hands reaching, their eyes burning holes into me.

The air crackles with fury, a tangible force pushing against my skin. Faces blur as they twist in anger, mouths moving, voices raised in hatred. I’m surrounded, caged in by their accusations, my name on their lips, twisted and spat like a curse.

And then I see her—Zoey. Her face stands out in the sea of fury, a mocking, vicious smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She meets my eyes, and her smile widens, her gaze daring me to do something, almost reveling in the chaos she’s unleashed.

My pulse quickens as someone lunges, their hand grabbing for me. Instinct takes over, and I shove them away. My body is acting on its own, fueled by the surging adrenaline. I’m suddenly aware of every detail around me—the snarl on a man’s face as he moves closer, the glint of metal in someone’s hand, the shouting so loud it seems to vibrate in my bones.

Atlas, Nico, and Killian form a protective barrier around me, but the crowd is pushing in, their anger consuming everything in its path. I know that look in their eyes—I’ve seen it before. They want blood. They want revenge. And they’ve found their target.

Unlike with the three men I’ve grown close to, there’s no trust here, no bond. I’m an outsider, an enemy, and in their eyes, I’m guilty as charged.

A hand snakes out, grabbing my hair, yanking me back. Pain shoots down my scalp, and I cry out, lashing out blindly. My fist connects with something solid, and I feel teeth clash as my hand connects with a face. The person stumbles back, and I use the brief respite to try to duck out of the grasps, my heart thudding.

“Let her go!” Killian’s voice cuts through loud and clear. But it only seems to fuel the crowd’s rage. More hands reach for me, gripping my arms, my jacket.

Nico’s roar finally cuts through the crowd’s rage, calming them for at least a few seconds as their eyes flick to him. For the first time since Zoey opened her mouth, the room actually goes silent. “I said, back the fuck off!”

The tension is thick, as if the whole room is hanging on Nico’s next words. “If anyone lays another goddamn hand on my wife, they’re answering to me. You got that?” His voice is hard as steel, and it sobers more than a few faces in the crowd. “I’ve made mistakes, that’s on me. I should’ve told you all what was going on, but I was trying to protect this gang, protect what we’ve built. The clubhouse burning down—that’s my fault. Not hers. If you wanna blame someone, blame me.”

There’s a mutinous rumble at his admission, but Nico powers on, his voice unwavering. “I trust Quinn, and I know she’s not responsible for this shitshow. We’ve got an alliance now with Enigma, and together, we can be one of the strongest gangs in Detroit. But we need to stick together, not turn on each other.”

I hold my breath, watching as Nico’s words seem to sink in. For a moment, the tension in the room eases, and I dare to hope. Maybe he’s gotten through to them. Maybe this nightmare will end, and we can all take a step back, figure things out rationally.

But then I see it—the spark of rebellion igniting in their eyes. The silence shatters like glass.

“Fuck that!” someone shouts. “You’re choosing her over us!”

The crowd surges forward again, a tidal wave of fury. Fists fly, and I hear the sickening crunch of bone meeting flesh. Nico’s in the thick of it, trading blows with men who, just moments ago, would have followed him anywhere.

“You’re not fit to lead us anymore!” The words cut through the chaos, a death knell for Nico’s leadership.

I duck as a bottle whizzes past my head, shattering against the wall behind me. Killian grabs my arm, pulling me away from a swinging fist. I lash out, my knuckles connecting with someone’s jaw. Pain radiates up my arm, but adrenaline dulls it.

Atlas is a blur of motion, taking on three guys at once. Blood trickles from a cut above his eye, but he doesn’t slow down. Nico is in the center of the storm, his face a mask of fury and disbelief as he fights off his own people.

“We need to get Quinn out of here!” Nico shouts over the chaos, his eyes meeting Killian’s. “Now!”

Killian nods, his grip on my arm tightening. We start to move, fighting our way through the crowd. I feel hands grabbing at me, trying to pull me back. I twist and kick, my elbow connecting with someone’s nose. There’s a spray of blood, a howl of pain.

I struggle against the tide of angry bodies, my heart pounding in my ears. Killian’s grip on my arm is like iron as he drags me through the chaos. Nico and Atlas flank us, fists flying, clearing a path.

A fist connects with my jaw, sending pain shooting through my face. I taste blood but keep moving. Nico roars, tackling the guy who hit me. They crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

“Keep going!” Atlas shouts, shoving me forward.

We’re almost at the door when I hear the distinctive click of a gun being cocked. Time seems to slow as I turn, seeing someone aim a pistol at us.

“Fuck!” Killian yells, pushing me down as a shot rings out.

The bullet whizzes over our heads, embedding itself in the wall. Chaos erupts anew as people scramble for cover.

We use the distraction to burst through the doors into the cool night air. The parking lot is a sea of motorcycles, and we sprint toward ours.

“Get her out of here!” Atlas yells to Nico as he and Killian peel off towards their own bikes.

Nico is already straddling his motorcycle, the engine roaring to life. I jump on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist just as angry shouts erupt from the building.

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