Page 78 of Crown of Lies

My stomach drops. The Young Killers have been a thorn in our side for a while, but direct communication from their leader? That’s new. And probably not good.

“What do they want?” Killian asks, his voice low and wary.

Instead of answering, Nico taps his screen. “See for yourself.”

He holds out the phone, and Killian and I lean in. A video starts to play, and I feel my whole body tense as Quinn’s face fills the screen.

She looks like she’s been through the ringer. Her hair’s a mess, there’s a gash on her forehead and blood and dirt are smeared across her face.

But there’s not even a hint of fear in her eyes.

Good. Whatever she might be feeling on the inside, she’s not letting those sons of bitches in on it.

She’s saying something, but I can barely hear it over the roaring in my ears.

My shoulders tighten, muscles coiling with a mix of rage and helplessness.

Quinn’s voice cuts through the fog in my brain. “Face it, assholes. You picked the wrong hostage if you’re trying to get to Nico. He doesn’t give a shit what happens to me. Neither do his seconds.”

I’m barely aware of Nico flinching beside me. Killian reacts too, but I can’t focus on him. My heart feels like it’s been stabbed, a sharp pain lancing through my chest.

The video continues, and I watch as Harlan’s hand suddenly appears in frame. He backhands Quinn hard across the face, making her head snap to the side. The screen goes black, but the image is seared into my brain.

“We have to go get her.”

The words are out of my mouth before I even realize I’m speaking. All thoughts of Quinn being the enemy have vanished from my head. All I know is that we have to get to her, to stop Harlan and his people from laying another goddamn finger on her.

Nico looks up from the phone, a strained expression on his face. His mouth opens, but I cut him off before he can speak.

“If you won’t help, I’ll do it myself. She’s not just yours, Nico.”

My fists are clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my body ready for a fight. The rational part of my brain knows this is probably exactly what Harlan wants—to lure us into a trap. But I don’t fucking care. All I can see is Quinn’s face with that familiar, defiant look in her eyes, and Harlan’s hand striking her.

I’m about to launch into a tirade, to demand that we gather our forces and storm the Young Killers’ hideout, when Nico’s voice cuts through my anger.

“I know she isn’t just mine. I saw the mark.”

His words stop me cold. The mark. The one I put on her breast, a small tattoo that only someone who’d been intimate with her would know about. My gaze snaps to Nico’s face, searching for any sign of accusation or betrayal.

But what I see instead catches me off guard. There’s a mix of emotions in his eyes. Not just anger, but also pain, regret… understanding, maybe. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, it’s like we’re having an entire conversation without words.

We both still care for her. Despite everything that’s happened, despite the tangled web of loyalty and betrayal we’ve all woven, Quinn still matters to both of us. And right now, that’s all that matters.

The tension between us shifts, morphing into something else. A shared purpose, a common goal. We may have our differences, but when it comes to Quinn, we’re on the same page.

Killian’s voice breaks the moment, low and deadly. “If any of those bastards hurt her, I’ll cut off more than just their hands.”

I turn to look at him, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. What I see on his face shocks me even more. There’s a depth of fury there that I’ve rarely seen, even in our most heated battles.His eyes are dark with rage, his jaw clenched so tight I can see a muscle twitching in his cheek.

Killian’s words touch something deep inside me, igniting a fierce protectiveness I didn’t even know I had. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and suddenly we’re all on the same wavelength. Without a word, we turn toward our bikes.

Nico’s already got his phone out, fingers flying over the screen as he starts making calls.

“Get everyone together,” he barks into the device. “I need eyes and ears on the streets. Find out where the Young Killers are holed up.”

I swing my leg over my bike, the familiar rumble of the engine beneath me doing little to calm the storm of emotions raging inside. My mind’s racing, trying to piece together any clues we might have about the Young Killers’ location.

Killian’s revving his engine, his face set in a grim mask of determination. I can see the same urgency I feel reflected in his eyes.

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