Page 83 of Crown of Lies

I hear a grunt of pain to my left and pivot, gun raised. But it’s just one of Harlan’s men, clutching a bleeding shoulder as he tries to aim at me. I don’t give him the chance, putting two rounds in his chest before he can get a shot off.

The warehouse is a war zone now. The sound of gunfire echoes off the metal containers, creating a deafening cacophony. I can hear Atlas and Killian returning fire from their position, keeping the Young Killers pinned down.

I round another corner and finally spot Quinn. She’s crouched behind a crate, her eyes wild but determined.

I watch as those smart-as-fuck, wild-as-hell eyes dart around, assessing the situation. Suddenly, she springs into action. She leaps from her hiding spot, catching one of the Young Killers off guard. She barrels into him with surprising force, knocking him off balance.

They grapple for his weapon, a frantic tangle of limbs and desperation. Quinn’s face is a mask of determination, her teethbared in a snarl. The Young Killer tries to overpower her, but Quinn’s survival instinct is in overdrive.

With a sudden twist, she wrenches the gun from his grasp. Before he can react, she pulls the trigger. The shot echoes through the warehouse, and the man crumples to the ground.

Quinn doesn’t waste a second. She’s on her feet and running, weaving between the shipping containers. The main crowd of Young Killers shout and give chase, but she’s already disappearing into the maze of metal.

“Quinn!” I yell, but my voice is lost in the chaos.

I hear the thud of boots hitting concrete behind me. Atlas and Killian have jumped down from their perch, using the shipping container as cover as they join me.

“We saw which way she went,” Atlas shouts over the gunfire. He points towards a narrow gap between two containers. “This way!”

We start moving, weaving through the metal maze. Bullets ping off the containers around us, and I return fire whenever I get the chance, hearing the satisfying grunts of pain when my shots find their mark.

Killian takes point, his bulk providing cover as we navigate the tight spaces. Atlas brings up the rear, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to flank us.

We turn a corner and come face to face with two Young Killers. There’s a split second of surprise on both sides before all hell breaks loose. I dive to the side as bullets fly, feeling the heat of one as it grazes my arm.

We round another corner, and I spot her crouched behind a stack of pallets, her stolen gun clutched tight.

“Quinn!” I call out.

Her head whips around, eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, she hesitates, then springs into action, darting towards us.

“This way!” Atlas shouts, gesturing to another narrow gap between containers.

We make a break for it, bullets whizzing past. Quinn is right behind me, her ragged breathing matching the pounding of my heart.

We squeeze through the gap, emerging into a small space between a container and the warehouse wall. It’s tight, but defensible.

“Get down!” Killian yells, opening fire on the Young Killers who’ve followed us.

We drop to our knees, using the container as cover. Atlas and I join Killian, leaning around the edges to return fire. The air fills with the deafening crack of gunshots and the ping of bullets hitting metal.

“We’re pinned down,” Atlas growls, ejecting an empty magazine and slamming in a fresh one.

I glance at Quinn. She’s pressed against the wall, her chest heaving with each ragged breath she takes. Our eyes lock, and I can see the confusion and wariness there.

“What are you doing here?” she whisper-shouts, her voice barely audible over the gunfire. “Why did you come?”

I take a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. “Because you were wrong. We’re here because we fucking care.”

25

QUINN

I stareat Nico as his words hit me like a damn freight train. My chest tightens, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. The chaos around us fades away, and all I can see is the intensity in his eyes. He came for me. All three of them did. In spite of everything I’ve said and done.

A lump forms in my throat, and I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. What can I say? How can I possibly…

The moment shatters as a bullet ricochets off the container inches from my head. I flinch, snapping back to reality. Atlas lets out a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, returning fire with renewed intensity.

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