Page 230 of Quinlan

She’s there with her arms open when I open the passenger door. She loves the monster. Loves three of them. And this particular monster carries her home.

We’re quiet on the ride up to the penthouse, on our walk to the kitchen.

The knife block comes to view, and I grab one before returning my arm to where it belongs. Right there around Quinlan.

Liam talked to her about his past in the dark. Rome had the punching bag.

The knife is whatIneed.

“Where’s Ashton?” she asks as I climb the stairs.

A dry laugh. “You’re not asking about the knife?”

“No.” Her chin dips, her gaze darting to her stomach and back to me. She thinks she’s the one who’ll have her skin broken in return for a peek into my soul. So sweet. So. Sweet. “I wonder what happened to Ashton. You didn’t kill him, right? It was my fault.”

“You’d like that.” The corner of my mouth lifts despite the heaviness in my heart. “That I’d kill someone for you.”

“No.”

She’s such a liar. I’ll let her have this one. “We had him fired.”

“What?” Quinlan tightens her grip on me, her face blanching. “He couldn’t have stopped me. I tricked him, then sprinted out of here. Please, Damien, be reasonable.”

“I’m anything but reasonable when it comes to your safety.” I glower at her while I’m crossing the hallway to my room. “He fucked up royally. We paid him a decent severance package on top of what the building management offered. Hush money. But he won’t be working here anymore.”

“Please—”

“Rex could’ve taken you from us. Could’ve done worse if he realized you loved us.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Enough.”

“Damien…”

“Enough.”

“Fine.”

I throw the knife on the mattress at a safe distance from us so it won’t hurt Quinlan when I place her on the bed.

Her arms cross over her stomach as soon as she’s seated there, fingers hooking into the hem of her top.

“Keep it on.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip, my head shaking. She’s gorgeous in her eagerness. With the button of her jeans open and the zipper pulled down. “For now.”

Her gaze shifts to the knife. When she’s staring at me again, questions fill her eyes.

“Just listen, darling.” I arrange her so she’s seated on her knees in the center of the bed, the knife at her side. I’m on my knees before her, pressing a finger to tip her chin up. “Can you do that for me?”

“Anything.” The fire in her eyes is mesmerizing. Liam would’ve gotten lost in her gaze. I sure as shit am on my way. “I don’t even know what he did, and I wanted to hurt him. Damien, I wanted to kill him. With you. For all the days and weeks andmonths that I wasn’t there for you. I haven’t had the best life, but I’ve been fine. I’ve been ignorant and privileged. No one laid a finger on me, while you’ve been out there. Carrying the pain by yourself. You had your friends, but I should’ve been there. I should’ve asked for your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have loved Rex. You were just a boy. You, Laurel and Jagger. He had no right.”

Her voice cracks at the end, splintering into a million pieces.

“Listen to me.”

My heart beats louder than it ever had. I ignore it, never loosening the grip on her chin. The pain and guilt eat her up from the inside, and screw that. If anything’s going to terrorize Quinlan, it’s us.

“Yes?”

---