Page 116 of Bonds of Obsession

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ATLAS

I keepmy bike tight to Quinn’s right side as she leads us through the streets of Detroit, her teal hair whipping behind her beneath her helmet. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, scanning the shadows between buildings, watching every alley and rooftop we pass. The bullet wound in my back throbs with each breath, but I ignore it. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let pain distract me from keeping her safe.

Nico has our six, and Killian flanks Quinn’s left side, his gun tucked into the waistband of his pants where he can grab it quickly if he needs to. After losing every place that felt like home along with most of our allies, none of us are taking chances. Not anymore.

The city feels different now—hostile in a way it never did before. Every shadow could hide one of Ambrose’s mercenaries. Every parked car could fucking explode, killing us before we even realize what’s happening. My jaw clenches as I remember the sight of Blood and Ink going up in flames. Ever since the moment Quinn tried to frantically run inside the burning building, my protective instincts have been in overdrive.

I watch her like a hawk, looking for any sign that the weight of everything is becoming too much.

But she looks steady and strong as hell when she rides, and she’s leading us through the maze of streets like she was born to do it. As I maneuver my bike alongside hers, I can’t help but think about how fucking far we’ve all come. About the things we’ve done and the blood we’ve spilled. Some might call us monsters for it, but it’s more complicated than that.

There’s nothing complicated about what I feel for her though. Or for my brothers. And there’s sure as hell nothing complicated about what I’ll do to anyone who tries to hurt them.

We pull up outside the warehouse several minutes later, and I’m doing my usual scan of the perimeter before the engine even dies. I know the Voronin brothers keep this place locked down tight, but old habits die hard, and I’m not taking anything for granted these days.

Willow meets us at the door, and something in my chest eases at the genuine concern in her eyes when she sees Quinn. These two have gotten closer since we started working together, and I’m glad for it. Quinn needs someone like Willow—someone who understands what it means to walk the line between strength and survival in our world.

They hug, and I catch Malice’s nod of acknowledgment from where he’s positioned inside the entryway, watching them just like I am. He gets it. We’re all hyper-aware these days, all looking out for our own. The Voronin brothers might be our allies now, but none of us got where we are by dropping our guards completely.

“We made sure we weren’t followed,” Quinn says as they break apart.

Willow nods, her expression serious. “I know. I trust you.”

She gestures for us to come inside, and I share a look with my brothers as we follow Quinn into the foyer. Maybe a few weeks ago, I would’ve bristled at how easily Quinn relaxes here. I might’ve seen it as a weakness, this trust she’s building withpeople outside of our tight circle. But I’ve watched her carry too much weight on her shoulders and seen her try to be everything to everyone until there’s nothing left for herself.

So yeah, maybe we’re all learning to let our walls down inch by slow, steady inch. That doesn’t mean I won’t put a bullet in anyone who gives me half a reason to regret lowering those walls.

I notice Killian’s hand is hovering near his weapon too. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who can’t fully shake the instinct to protect what’s ours, even among friends.

“Glad you could join us this time,” Willow tells me as she closes the door behind us. “It’s good to see you in one piece.”

Before I can answer, Quinn cuts in. “Mostlyone piece. He keeps popping his fucking stitches.” She shoots me a look. “He’s never gonna fully heal if he doesn’t stop acting like he’s invincible.”

I raise a brow, because she knows exactly how I popped some of those stitches. And she was a willing participant, as I recall. Not that I’d say any of that out loud in front of our hosts, of course.

“Worth it,” I mutter instead, and Nico snorts behind me.

He knows how it is. He would’ve done the same damn thing in my place.

Willow darts a confused look between us for a moment, then flushes slightly as understanding dawns in her eyes. She clears her throat and takes Dayana from Malice, and the little girl immediately grabs a fistful of her hair.

“Just a heads up,” she says as she leads us toward the living room, “we have other visitors too. But you’re safe talking in front of them. I’d trust them with my life.”

Quinn takes that in stride, but my body goes on high alert all over again. When we reach the living room, I quickly scan the space, taking in the familiar forms of Victor and Ransomat a glance before shifting my focus to the newcomers—a tall, lithe woman with silver hair, and four men with almost as many tattoos and scars between them as my brothers and I have. She has a baby strapped to her chest, probably not much older than Willow’s kid, and there’s a little boy who looks to be maybe five or six years old standing by her side.

“River,” Willow says, gesturing to the silver-haired woman as she makes the introductions, “meet Quinn and her men. This is Atlas, Nico, and Killian. Guys, this is River and the Kings of Chaos. Priest, Knox, Gage, and Ash.”

The kid peers around River’s leg, studying us with serious eyes.

“Cody,” River tells him, ruffling his blond hair, “say hello.”

“Are you bad guys?” the boy asks, and fuck if that doesn’t hit different.

Killian makes a sound that might be a laugh. “Depends who you ask, kid.”

“They’re friends,” River tells him, but her eyes are sharp when they meet mine. Measuring. “Like Mama’s friends.”

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