Page 5 of Crown of Lies

Nico’s head jerks back a little, almost as if I’ve scalded him. All expression slips from his face, all emotion gone. Not even the anger is left in his features, as if he’s shut off every bit of feeling that was pouring through him a second ago.

Maybe I’ve struck a nerve calling him on his shit.Good.

The basement goes quiet for a long second, neither of us looking away from each other. Then Nico sighs and shakes his head.

“Ti sarei stato leale. Ti avrei dato tutto. Chiaramente questo non doveva essere. Forse in un’altra vita, mia cara.”

He tears his eyes away from me, jerking his head to Killian.

“I’m done down here. Get that bullet out her shoulder. I want her at her best for what’s to come.”

I swallow, bracing myself.

Something tells me he isn’t prepping me for anything good.

2

KILLIAN

All of this is wrong.

I step forward on Nico’s order like I’ve done dozens—hundreds—of times before. It’s not my job to feel one way or another about anything that Nico gets us into.

But this…

Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

The word is an echo in my mind as I peer down at Quinn. She looks like captured prey to my hunter-predator, and usually, that feeling is welcomed.Wanted.But in this context, it’s all off. It’s broken.

And it’s fucking me up in ways that I never expected when this started. Ways I don’t understand.

My fingers ache to wrap around The Saint’s throat, despite the fact that I’ve never met him in person and have no idea who he is or what he looks like. But if he had never approached us in the first place, Quinn could still be mine—to hunt, crave, to watch from the shadows. Silas would have never gone after her at the clubhouse, and as furious as I am that our home base is gone, I’d rather it be the house destroyed than her.

That’s not something I can say out loud though, especially not in front of my brothers. Not right now.

But the thing that’s fucking me up the most isn’t the fact that Quinn is sitting there glaring daggers at me.It’s the fact that I swear I can feel those daggers twisting in my chest.

That’s what’s the most confusing about all of this—how much Icare. How deeply the conscience that I thought I gave up years ago is stirring right now.

Why?

I’ve lied to plenty of people before, and I’ve never felt regret about any of it. People prefer hearing what they want to hear, anyway. The vast majority of the human population doesn’t actually want the truth. If it makes them feel better, makes them feel safer, doesn’t challenge them, they’ll embrace the lie with open arms.

I’ve seen enough of the world to know that the truth doesn’t actually fucking matter.

So I can’t grasp what makes lying to Quinn feel different. Being intrigued by her was one thing. Stalking her, craving her. Seeing the darkness in her that was begging for someone to grab hold and nurture it, and then giving her what she needed? All of that made sense to me.

But caring about her this way is something else entirely.

Something… dangerous in its own right.

I’m so used to observing her that I can pick up the emotions behind even the tiniest shifts in her expression, and I don’t miss the way the corner of her mouth turns down in contempt as her gaze locks with mine. How her eyes narrow infinitesimally, disgust mingled with raw hurt flashing in their depths.

Betrayal. Everything about her drips with it.

“Killian?”

---