Page 115 of Bonds of Obsession

“Have we though?” I ask. “He nearly killed Atlas. He burned down everything I had. He’s always two steps ahead?—”

“Hey.” Killian’s voice cuts through my spiral. He sets Princess down and steps closer to me. “You’re not alone in this fight anymore. You’ve got us.” His eyes are intense as they lock with mine. “All of us.”

“And we’re a hell of a lot more dangerous together than apart,” Atlas adds.

“Save that last votum,” Nico says. “Keep it as an ace up our sleeve for when we really need it. For now, we’ll handle this our way.”

My phone rings, and I tense automatically, but the caller ID shows Willow’s name. Not Ambrose calling to taunt me aboutdestroying my life. Not Malcolm summoning me for more Dark Lotus Syndicate bullshit.

“Hey,” I answer, keeping my voice neutral. The men watch me, clearly wondering who it is.

“Quinn.” Willow’s voice is warm but concerned. “I heard about Blood and Ink. About the fire. Are you okay?”

Something catches in my throat, and I clear it roughly. “I’m fine. But you don’t need to check on me. Your debt to my father is paid, and you don’t owe me anything else.”

A soft laugh comes through the line. “Is that what you think this is? Me paying a debt?” There’s a gentleness to her tone that makes my chest squeeze uncomfortably. “I’m calling because you’re my friend. Because I was worried about you.”

Friend. The word hits me like a punch to the gut. I can count on one hand the number of true friends I’ve had in my life. In my line of work, friendship is usually just another word for a temporary alliance. If there isn’t some kind of mutual benefit, there isn’t a friendship.

But Willow… she’s different. The way she opened her home to us, helped us save Atlas. The way she saw through my tough exterior when I was falling apart over him being taken. She knows me in a way that few people aside from my men do, and instead of making me feel uncomfortable, that knowledge soothes some of the jagged edges in my heart.

“I…” My voice trails off. Atlas shifts closer to me, concern evident in his expression. “Thanks,” I finally manage. It comes out stiff and awkward, but I mean it. “That means a lot.”

“Of course.” She hesitates, then asks, “What happened? Was it an accident, or…”

“It was targeted.” My voice hardens. “The same man who took Atlas is coming after us, and—fuck, everything is such a goddamn mess.”

“What’s going on?”

Maybe it’s the genuine concern in her voice, or maybe I just need to get some of this shit off my chest, but the words start spilling out.

“I had to disband Enigma. My people weren’t safe. They still aren’t safe. The asshole who’s after us, he’s…” I swallow hard. “He’s the kind who doesn’t care who he hurts to get what he wants. And now we’re stuck playing defense, waiting for his next move, and I fucking hate it.”

The men watch me as I talk, and I can see the tension in their bodies. They hate this situation as much as I do.

“He took everything,” I continue, my voice getting rougher. “My home, the tattoo parlor, my gang. All the pictures I had of my dad, every memory, every fucking thing I owned—it’s all gone now. And the worst part is, I know that’s exactly what he wanted. He told me himself that he was going to strip everything away until I had nothing left. And then he did it.”

“No,” Willow says firmly, her voice taking on an edge I’ve never heard before. “No, he didn’t. You still have your men, right?”

I swallow, glancing over at them. The sight is like a balm to my shattered soul. “Yes,” I whisper. “I do.”

“Then you haven’t lost everything. You still have your life. You still have friends.”

“You’re right.” I let the words linger on my tongue, trying to truly absorb the truth of them.

There’s a brief silence from the phone, then Willow says, “Why don’t you come over? All of you—you and your men. I don’t know how much help I can be, but maybe I can help you figure out what to do next. Where to go from here.”

I hesitate, already shaking my head. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t want to drag you into our mess?—”

“Quinn.” She cuts me off. “What did I just say about having friends?”

Another surprised laugh escapes me. “Fair point.”

“The guys will help too. They’re good at strategy, at seeing angles others might miss.” She pauses. “And even if they were a bit reluctant at first, I know they’ll want to help. They respect what your father did, helping us out when he didn’t have to. We’ve got a lot in common, you and I, and they recognize that. They respectyoutoo.”

I draw in a breath, considering her offer. It’s strange, the idea of having more people to lean on than just myself and the three men who have become like parts of me. But having more eyes on the problem couldn’t hurt. And the Voronin brothers are smart as hell, not to mention some dangerous motherfuckers in their own right.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Yeah. We’ll come over.”

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