Page 74 of Crown of Lies

We begin to move, and I strain my ears, still desperately trying to pick up any possible hint about where we’re going or who these people are. The bag over my head muffles everything around me, leaving me even more disoriented and panicked than I already was.

My mind is racing, searching for a way out of this nightmare. But with my hands bound and my vision completely blocked, I’m fucking helpless. I’m not sure if I could fully walk right now if they voluntarily let me go. I damn sure couldn’t run, even if I could somehow manage to overpower or slip past three grown-ass men.

I’m trying to stay calm, to think rationally, but it’s hard when my head’s pounding and I can barely breathe through this fucking bag. Who the hell are these assholes? The Saint’s men? Some random crew of mercenaries? I don’t have a damn clue, and that terrifies me more than I want to admit.

My thoughts keep drifting back to the crash. To Remy slumped over the wheel, blood on his face. To the eerie silence from the backseat. Fuck. They’re probably dead. All of them. Some of my best men. My team. Gone.

A wave of grief rushes up, but I push it down, replacing it with anger. These bastards are going to pay. I don’t care who they are or who sent them. I’m going to make them regret the day they fucked with me and my crew.

I try to focus, to come up with some kind of plan. Maybe if I can loosen these zip ties… But before I can even start working on them, the car slows to a stop.

“We’re here,” one of the men announces. “Let’s move.”

Those rough hands grab me again, hauling me out of the vehicle. I stumble, my legs still unsteady. I hear the creak of a door opening, feel a change in temperature as we move from outside to inside.

The ground beneath my feet changes from gravel to what feels like concrete. The air smells musty and damp. Some kind of warehouse, maybe? Or an abandoned building?

All I hear is the echo of footsteps and the low murmur of voices too quiet for me to make out.

We come to a stop, and I’m shoved down into a chair. Metal, from the feel of it. Cold and hard against my aching body.

“Secure her,” someone orders.

More zip ties. Around my ankles this time, binding me to the chair legs. Then my arms are wrenched behind me, secured to the back of the chair.

I grit my teeth, fighting back a groan of pain. Everything hurts, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let these assholes see how much.

The bag is suddenly yanked off my head, and I blink rapidly against the harsh light that’s suddenly shining directly into my eyes. My vision swims, struggling to adjust after the complete darkness. As the world slowly comes into focus, I scan the faces surrounding me, my heart pounding in my chest.

My stomach drops. A wave of nausea washes over me that has nothing to do with my injuries.

These guys weren’t sent by The Saint. This isn’t some random group of mercs.

It’s the fucking Young Killers.

Even if I didn’t recognize their distinctive tattoos or the arrogant swagger in their postures, there would be no mistaking their leader.

Harlan.

Strutting toward me with a smug grin plastered across his face, there’s no way in hell I’d forget that cocky walk or the cruel glint in his eyes. He stops just a few feet in front of me, looking down like a cat that’s caught a particularly juicy mouse.

“Well, well, well,” Harlan drawls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “If it isn’t the infamous Quinn herself. Gotta say, I expected more of a chase. More of a fight. This was almost too easy.”

I glare up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Harlan leans in closer, his breath hot on my face. I fight the urge to recoil as he grips my chin hard, tilting my face up toward him.

“When Enigma and the Princes of Carnage teamed up, I knew I couldn’t trust either of you fuckers.” His grip tightens until his nails are digging into my skin. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Coming to us for those so-called peace talks. Acting like you wanted to work things out.”

He releases my chin with a sharp jerk, nearly snapping my head back. “But you’re nothing but a fucking bitch and a liar. Did you really think we’d fall for your bullshit?”

I glare up at him, my jaw clenched tight. I want nothing more than to spit in his smug face, but I know that would only make things worse. Instead, I force myself to stay silent, to give him nothing.

Harlan starts to pace in front of me, his movements sharp and agitated. “You know what your problem is? You think you’re smarter than everyone else. You think you can play all sides and come out on top.”

He stops pacing abruptly, then whirls to face me, his eyes burning with anger.

“You know, we almost bought your little act,” he snarls. “Poor Quinn, assaulted by one of our guys. Such a convenient excuse for Nico to put a bullet in him, wasn’t it?”

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