Page 31 of Crown of Lies

But a much larger part knows that chasing down a potential threat on a crowded city street is reckless and fucking stupid. Keeping her alive is my number one priority, even if that means pissing her off to keep her safe.

“Hey.” I step in closer, lowering my voice. “I get it, okay? Feeling powerless like that sucks. But going after that guy right now would be a stupid move.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I shake my head, cutting her off.

“Just listen for a second. We’ll figure out who he is and what he wants. Then we’ll handle it, okay? But we’ll do it the smart way, not risking both our lives by flying off half-cocked.” I hold her fiery gaze steadily. “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. You hear me? Me, Nico, Killian—we’ve got your back on this.”

The words slip out before I can stop them. For a beat, her eyes go wide, surprise flickering across her beautiful features. I inwardly curse, scrambling to cover up my unexpected slip of the tongue.

“You’re an investment now,” I add gruffly, forcing the emotion from my voice. “We can’t just let some random prick jeopardize that. It’s bad for business, you getting jumped or whatever.”

Quinn blinks slowly, her expression settling into careful neutrality once more. She holds my stare for a long moment, as if weighing my words.

“An investment,” she echoes flatly. She opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something else, then closes it again.“Whatever,” she mutters, brushing past me to continue down the sidewalk. “Let’s just get this shit done so I can get the hell out of here.”

I fall into step beside her and take another look around. The not-so-subtle watcher seems to have vanished for now. But he’ll be back soon enough.

I’m sure of it.

10

QUINN

I wakeup to the sound of a chair scraping against the floor outside my room. Groaning, I roll over and squint at the clock on the nightstand.

Dammit. It’s barely past six in the morning.

I throw off the covers and stumble to the door, yanking it open to find Atlas sprawled in a chair, his eyes closed and head tilted back against the wall. He looks like he’s been there all night.

“What the hell are you doing?” I snap, my voice still raspy from sleep.

He startles awake, blinking up at me with bleary eyes. “Morning, vicious.” There’s no warmth in his tone, only exhaustion. “Just making sure you don’t try to sneak out in the middle of the night.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “You know I could’ve left a dozen times by now if I wanted to, right?”

“Yeah, well, something kept you here,” Atlas retorts, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m just gonna assume that something was me. So until I’m sure we can trust you, I’ll be sleeping here every night.”

“You should get some actual sleep.” I huff a breath. “In a bed. You’re starting to sound delusional.”

“Trusting you right now would be the definition of delusional.” His expression is unreadable, but there’s no mistaking the hurt and anger behind those cold words. “I don’t know what the hell you might try to do, vicious.” He gives me a quick up-and-down look. “Not anymore. But I’m not taking any chances.”

I shake my head and turn back to my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I can hear Atlas settling back into his chair outside, and I resist the urge to throw something at the door.

The rational part of my brain—the part that’s still doing its best to fully wake up—knows he has a point. That same part of my brain knows I’d almost certainly do the same thing if our roles were reversed.

But that sort of rational thinking is taking a back seat to the other voice in my head right now. The one that’s telling me to march back out there and make it known, loud and clear, that I won’t be treated like a prisoner in my own fucking house anymore.

They might have all had their fun acting like tough guys and hard-asses while I was chained up in the basement, but that’s not how we’re doing things now.

I throw on a t-shirt and jeans, then open my bedroom door again with every intention of putting Atlas in his place. And then I smell bacon. And coffee. And… pancakes?

Oh, hell yes.

My stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten anything since… well, I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent meal.

Atlas looks up with an exasperated expression as I enter the hallway. “Back for round two already?”

But I barely acknowledge him. Instead, I follow my nose downstairs toward the mouthwatering smells wafting from the kitchen. When I reach the doorway, I stop short, taking in the scene in front of me.

---