Page 117 of Bonds of Obsession

That seems to satisfy the kid. He goes back to a spot where it looks like he’s been playing with several toys, but even as he sits down and picks up a small truck, I notice he keeps glancing our way. Smart. They’ve obviously taught him young not to trust too easy.

Willow takes a seat on one of the couches between Malice, Vic, and Ransom, who takes Dayana and keeps her entertained by waggling his pierced eyebrow as the rest of us settle in as well.

Quinn glances warily at River, and Willow must notice the look, because she says, “I haven’t told her anything yet. It’s up to you how much you want to share, but when I said I trust these people with my life, I meant it. So whatever youdosay won’t leave this room. I promise.”

Knox, the biggest of River’s crew, leans against the wall, his thick arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah. We heard you’ve run into some problems, but that’s about all we know.”

Quinn snorts, scrubbing a hand over her face. “‘Problems’ is putting it mildly.”

I can still see the pain and stress etched into her features, but she seems more at ease than she did before, which I like. It hits me in a rush that maybe Willow really does get Quinn on a level I never quite appreciated until now. I don’t know much about this River woman or the Kings of Chaos, except by reputation and a few rumors I’ve picked up on the street—but it’s clear that Quinn feels comfortable around them. Maybe because, just like Willow and her men, they seem like they’ve been through some shit and come out the other side.

So I’m not completely surprised when Quinn takes Willow up on her offer to speak freely. Although she keeps some details close to the chest, she fills Willow and the others in on what happened last night, and the basics of what led up to it.

“One of my people sold me out,” she says, and although her tone is even, I can hear the rage simmering beneath it. “Emmett, the man who used to be my second. He told Ambrose about a marker I inherited from my father—a tattoo that guaranteed membership in the Dark Lotus Syndicate.”

Ash lets out a low whistle, adjusting his glasses with deft fingers. “Fuck. I’ve only ever heard rumors of them. Honestly, I was half convinced that it was just a myth or an urban legend.”

Quinn frowns. “Yeah, they operate from the shadows. When Vic helped us look into them, he could barely find anything.”

Victor nods, his cool gaze flicking toward her. “She’s right. It took some serious digging just to get a name. Malcolm Mercer.”

“Anyway, Ambrose wanted that membership,” Quinn continues. “He wanted it badly enough to capture Atlas andtorture him just to make sure I’d give it up willingly. He knew he could use Atlas as leverage against me.”

My jaw clenches at the memory. The torture. The rage. I wish I could’ve killed that fucker back then, before Quinn was forced into accepting membership in this fucked up organization just so that she could use them as backup to free me from Ambrose’s clutches.

“There’s a special place in hell for people who use your loved ones as leverage,” River spits out, her angular features hardening as she rests a protective hand against the baby bundled against her chest. It’s clear that Quinn touched a nerve with that part of her story.

“You obviously got Atlas back.” Willow shoots me a sympathetic look. “But what happened with Ambrose?”

Quinn chuckles, a vicious edge to the sound. “I took the membership for myself instead of giving it to that fucker. I almost got him killed that night too. He didn’t appreciate either of those things very much.”

Respect dawns in River’s eyes, and Gage gives a satisfied nod, as if he would’ve done the exact same thing in Quinn’s shoes. Ransom runs a tongue between his teeth, revealing a flash of metal as the ball of a piercing catches the light.

“Hence the fires,” he says, grimacing.

Quinn’s jaw tightens, her hands curling into fists. “Yeah, hence the fires. He burned everything to the fucking ground. Not just my home, but Blood and Ink too.” She drags in a breath, her voice rough. “I had to disband Enigma to keep my people safe.”

The room goes quiet for a moment as the weight of her loss settles in, and a tight feeling grips my chest. Goddammit, I fucking hate this. It’s crazy that she can even talk about it in such a matter-of-fact way after all the shit she’s been through in the past twenty-four hours. Most people would have already broken down.

But Quinn isn’t like most people. She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. She’s fucking vicious and strong as hell. This isn’t going to break her.

“Wait.” River shifts forward, her silver hair sliding over her shoulder. “You said the Syndicate just let you join? Just like that?”

“No. Nothing is ‘just like that’ with them.” Quinn shakes her head stiffly. “I had the marker, so I was guaranteed a spot, but I still had to prove myself. And even now that I’m in the organization, I have to keep proving myself. They’re… not what I expected.”

I scowl as I remember the ceremony and how they branded her skin, burning away her father’s mark. She didn’t make a damn sound, even though I could see the pain flash through her eyes.

“How do you mean?” Willow asks, her brows furrowing.

Quinn chews on her lip, her gaze losing focus as she considers her answer for a moment. “They’re powerful and connected, and I knew that much going into the situation. But it’s more than that. They operate by their own rules. Everyone gets three favors—they call them votums. When someone calls one in, we all have to help. No questions asked.”

Gage’s piercing green eyes narrow. “What kind of favors are we talking about?”

“The kind that make you question your own humanity,” Quinn answers shortly. She doesn’t elaborate, but I don’t think she needs to. The people in this room have seen enough shit to have pretty fucking vivid imaginations. “Anyway, I’ve already used two of my votums. I used one to get Atlas back, then another to secure us someplace safe to stay after the fires.”

“And now they’re watching you,” Malice says. It’s not a question.

“Like hawks.” Quinn grimaces. “As if they’re just waiting for me to slip up.”

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