Page 140 of Quinlan

Tomorrow.

I have a captive waiting for me.

The first floor is dark as I cross it. City lights filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering very little light. I undo the buttons of my suit jacket on my way up. I’m quiet, stealthy as I climb the stairs.

I’m desperate for a shower. Wash the day off me. The hate that pollutes my soul. Any reminder of the people who hurt us, and by us, I mean Quinlan too. I want it off.

I want to go to her when her half-brother isn’t on my mind. When I don’t have the urge to slaughter someone.

She’s owed that. She deserves the best version of me. I might not be what other people would call nice or affectionate.

Whatever I am, though, it’s good for her.We’regood for her.

Quinlan…

Naked. Bound. Helpless.

Jesus.

Fuck taking a shower. Fuck clearing my head. My hand curls around the Zippo in my pocket as I eliminate the distance to her bedroom. I’m carried by a dark, innate need to be with her.

There’s no stopping this.

No holding back the rage that rises with every step.

Rex had been manipulating Quinlan for years. He’s the one to blame for her being a captive. For her thinking that this is the only way to help her parents.

Had he been a decent human being, she could’ve counted on him. Could’ve told us to go fuck ourselves.

My hand presses on the handle of her door, and I don’t wait. I slip inside the dark room. Damien and Rome switched the lights off, including the lamp at her bedside.

But light seeps in through the open door.

I pinch my eyes shut, don’t dare look at her when I’m like this. A ball of rage.

Squeezing the Zippo takes down the edge. The pain. The need for retribution. The desire to crush Rex’s windpipe. I breathe through it all.

I’m back in the room. Here with her, and no one else.

Only her.

When I open my eyes, I’m at the door again, closing it. My Zippo isn’t as heavy in my pocket anymore. It’s featherlight, calling to me.

Flick. My thumb strokes the flint and there it is, light.

There she is. Illuminated by my flame, I can see Quinlan lying on her bed.

Arms stretched over her head, legs spread. Bound. Her hair is wild around her face. Her head is turned in my direction, eyes closed. Her tattoo is so beautiful. It’s sad.

And she’s been gagged. The bunched, soaked fabric next to her mouth is a clear sign that one of my friends stuffed it in her mouth after I hung up. They stayed there for a while, secured it in her mouth. Waited for her to fall asleep.

Kinky.

Fucking love that.

I take another step toward her.

Her breaths are shallow, eyelashes resting on her soft cheeks.

---