Page 244 of Quinlan

Quinlan

“Ms. Palmer?” That’s Kannon,our new doorman. Poor Ashton. “Are you home?”

Of course I’m home. He knows this. It’s Liam, Rome and Damien who won’t be here for another hour or so. The sun began to set a few minutes ago. There’s time.

They work hard, spending hours in the office. I admire them for it.

Me, on the other hand, I’ve been letting myself enjoy this work-free life over the last week. Since the men showed me Rex’s true colors, I’ve been doing my damnedest to be happy.

I wanted it. My men ordered me to do it.

So, here I am, being happy. Genuinely happy.

BLF Capital’s website has been perfected and approved. The rest of my clients are pretty chill for the time being.

Now, I can try new things. I’ve found joy in reading, in cooking, and yoga to stretch after the grueling boxing sessions with Rome.

Other than that, I’ve been hunting for other psychiatrists and mental health treatment plans and facilities for my parents. I haven’t decided which ones will do, but I’m getting there.

I throw myself even harder into it when my men’s stories hurt me the most. When my consciousness whispers that I’m being lazy. That I’m holding back from doing the thing I love, which is working. Being creative.

Except seeking and reaching out to new clients will draw attention to myself. We can’t have that. Just a few more days, and I’ll have my routine back.

We’ll have our revenge.

We’re so close. Almost there.

A smile teases my lips as I rise from my place on the sofa. I stretch my arms over my head, watching the horizon. Imagine my men like I always do, if only for a fleeting moment.

Liam’s amber eyes and the special kind of fire he saves especially for me.

Damien’s sharp teeth that marked my breastsagainthis morning.

Rome and the scrapes on his knuckles. How coarse they felt on my cheek when he woke me up today.

Our connection. The bond we have runs through our blood. Always present, forever strong. They soothe the constant anger that swells within me just by being there. The reminder of them is enough.

I wish my parents would answer, though. That’s the only thing I’m missing. At least they’re doing well. They’re being watched by one of the investigators, and I’ll see them soon. We’ll have our talk once things settle, once they’ll be under constant monitoring.

They aren’t perfect and we’ll have our emotional wound to pry open, metaphorical puss to clean. It’ll take time. It’ll take months or maybe years. Eventually we’ll get through it.

Or we won’t.

Whatever happens, it’ll be alright.

If the people I love and I have survived for this long, I can survive anything.

I head toward the front door to greet Kannon and Shawna, my sneakers padding soundlessly on the wooden floor. “Over here.”

At the sound of my voice, Kannon steps into our home. Shawna makes a beeline for the kitchen, unsupervised.

I’m the one who’s being supervised now.

An overkill, I know. But it’s cute. I actually think it’s sweet, that my men do everything in their power to keep me safe.

I allow it.

“How are you, Kannon?”

---