Page 53 of Crown of Lies

Doesn’t matter now anyway. What’s done is done.

“But here’s the thing,” I continue. “It didn’t work. Not even a little bit.” I take a step closer to him, close enough that I can see the tension in his jaw. “Quinn isn’t the kind of woman you just get out of your system. Trust me on this. The more you have of her, the more you want. It’s like a fucking addiction.”

I watch as Atlas processes my words, his expression tightening even more.

“I’m telling you this as your friend. As yourbrother. Be careful. This shit? It’s complicated enough without adding more fuel to the fire.”

Atlas nods again, his voice rough when he speaks. “Yeah, I get it. I do.”

“We need to wrap this shit up, and fast.” I fill Atlas in on my plan, on what should have been the plan all along. “We find out what the hell she has that’s so goddamn valuable, we get our money, and then we get the hell out. We cut her out of our lives like we always planned to, once this job was done.”

Atlas nods, his eyes hard and focused. “Yeah, that’s the move. No more distractions, no more dragging our feet.”

We stand there for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Then, with a slight dip of his head, Atlas turns and starts to walk away, his body language determined and resolute.

I watch him go, my stomach twisting as I realize that, in spite of my tough talk, I’m not ready to let Quinn go.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

It’s a dangerous thought, one that could destroy us all if I’m not careful. But there it is—undeniable, at least within the confines of my own twisted fucking brain.

I wake up early,my mind already racing with the day ahead. After a quick shower and some coffee, I’m ready to go. Quinn meets me downstairs, looking tired but determined.

“Ready?” I ask, grabbing my jacket.

She nods, fishing her car keys out of her pocket. “Let’s do this.”

We climb into her beat-up Honda, the engine sputtering to life after a couple of tries. As we pull out onto the street, I unfold the list of names the bartender gave her.

“So, who’s first on our hit list?” Quinn asks, her eyes fixed on the road.

“Guy named Tommy Russo.”

Quinn’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. “Bartender says he used to run with my dad back in the day.”

Not exactly the most helpful intel. Some random bartender happens to remember a couple of old drunks hanging out back in the day? This list could be a mile long if that’s our main criteria.

I can’t hold in a grunt. “That’s all we know?”

“It’s a start,” she says, glancing in my direction. “It won’t hurt to see what he has to say.”

We drive in silence for a while, the morning traffic thinning out as we head toward the outskirts of town. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out, frowning at the caller ID.

“Yeah?” I say as soon as I answer.

Quinn glances over again, looking curious instead of irritated this time.

“What do you mean, they’re moving in?” I growl into the phone, my free hand clenching into a fist. “No, don’t do anything yet. I’ll handle it.”

I hang up, muttering a string of curses under my breath.

“Everything okay?” Quinn asks.

I debate for a moment whether to tell her, then decide fuck it. She’s in deep already. “Some assholes are trying to chip away at my territory. Been happening more and more lately.”

Quinn kills the engine outside a run-down apartment complex and turns to face me.

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