Page 106 of Bonds of Obsession

The awful smell of smoke still hangs in the air, making my eyes water, even though I’m too fucking numb to cry real tears right now. My chest feels empty as I stare at the blackened walls, the collapsed roof, the complete destruction of everything I owned.

“His watch,” I choke out, remembering one of the few personal belongings of his that I still have. Had. “It was in my bedroom drawer. And the photos… all those pictures…”

“Mia cara,” Nico’s voice is gentle as he reaches for me, but I step away.

My fingers drift unconsciously to my shoulder where my tattoo used to be, the one he gave me, but even that’s gone now—burned away by the Syndicate’s brands. “I have nothing left of him. Not one fucking thing.”

“You have his strength,” Atlas says firmly. “And his leadership. Those aren’t things Ambrose can burn.”

“Some leader I turned out to be.” I kick a piece of charred wood, sending it skittering across what used to be my living room floor. “My gang’s disbanded, my home’s destroyed, and I’m in debt to people who would rather see me dead.”

Killian’s hand lands heavy on my shoulder. “You’re still breathing. You’re still fighting. That’s what matters.”

“Quinn.” Atlas comes up next to me, the concern for me as evident in his tone as it is on his face. “We should go. Standing here won’t change anything.”

He’s right. There’s nothing left here for me. For us.

“We need supplies,” I sigh, feeling like a hollowed-out shell. “Clothes. Toiletries. The basics.”

“We should split up,” Nico offers. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Like hell.” I spin around to face him. “Ambrose is still out there somewhere. He’s just waiting for us to fuck up so he can pick us off one at a time. No, we stay together.”

All three men look around as if they’re half-expecting Ambrose to pop out of the hedges surrounding what used to be my back yard.

“You’re right,” Nico says, already moving to guide me back to the car. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“None of us are,” I lean over to give him a quick kiss. “Just one more reason to stick together.”

“You look like shit,” Killian tells Atlas as we pile back into the car. It’s harsh but true, and it’s obvious that Atlas has been favoring his left side. “You should’ve stayed in the car.”

“Fuck that.” Atlas clenches his jaw. “We have shit to do and people to kill. I’m not gonna sit back while you and Nico do all the heavy lifting.”

I can’t help but smile to myself. In spite of everything that’s going on, my men still have a pretty clear idea of what we need to do—keep me safe and kill our enemies.

Simple. Clear. Uncomplicated.

We hit the stores as they open. None of us have slept yet, but that’s nothing new. My head is pounding, and every muscle in my body is aching from the night’s bullshit.

Together, we move from store to store, department to department, grabbing clothes, toiletries, and food. The entire time, we’re all jumping at shadows and looking back over our shoulders, ready for anything or anyone who might come after us.

“You need better shirts than these,” Killian says, frowning at the tank tops I’ve just tossed into our cart. “You can’t run a proper op looking like you’ve just rolled out of bed.”

“I’m not running ops anymore,” I remind him. “I don’t have a gang, remember?”

“That’s just a temporary setback.” Atlas’s voice is firm behind me.

I’m going through motions and grabbing whatever looks useful, but my mind is stuck on the burned out shells of my house and the tattoo parlor. Fuck, how many people have I let down over the past few hours?

“Hey.” Atlas catches my arm as I start grabbing random shirts off a rack. “You just got three of the same thing.”

I look down. He’s right. “Shit.”

He starts sorting through the racks, picking out practical shit we can wear. “Let me handle this part.”

My phone buzzes, and everyone tenses. Our hands move to weapons, a reflex after too many calls saying someone is either dead or about to be.

“It’s Imogen,” I say, checking the screen. The guys relax, but not much. She might seem like one of the more trustworthy members of the Syndicate, but she’s still one of them.

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