Page 137 of Bonds of Obsession

We pull into the meeting spot, an old boat launch area surrounded by abandoned warehouses. The whole area is sketchy as hell, and I can easily imagine Emmett meeting up with Ambrose here to sell me out.

The bindings around my wrists are loose enough that I can slip free quickly, but tight enough to look real. My gun is hidden but ready. Everything is set. So why does my stomach feel like it’s trying to crawl up my throat?

“Kill the engine,” I tell Emmett. “But leave the keys in.”

He does it, his hands shaking slightly on the wheel. “How long do we wait?”

“Until he shows.” I scan the shadows around us, looking for any sign of movement. “And remember—if you try to warn him, try anything at all, and you die first.”

“You keep saying that like I need reminding.”

“Because you do. You’re a survivor, like a fucking cockroach. You’re always looking for the angle that’ll keep your worthless ass alive longest.” I give him a cold smile. “But there’s no angle here that ends with you walking away if you cross me again.”

The minutes tick by so slowly it feels like time is moving backwards. Every sound makes my muscles tense—a bird flapping its wings, water lapping at the shore, distant traffic. My men are out there somewhere, but I can’t see them and I can’t hear their bikes.

A pair of headlights sweep across us, and my blood turns cold. This is it.

“I’m slumping down,” I hiss at Emmett. “You’d better fucking sell this.”

I let my head fall forward, keeping my eyes barely open through the curtain of my hair. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to spring.

The car pulls up beside us—some fancy black thing that was probably financed with Enigma blood. The engine cuts off, and I hear a door open and close.

Footsteps crunch on gravel, getting closer. My finger twitches on the trigger of my hidden gun.

“Well?” Ambrose’s voice carries through the night air. “Show me what you brought me.”

“She’s out cold,” Emmett calls back. “Just like I said.”

More footsteps. Ambrose is coming around to my side of the car. I keep my breathing slow and steady, fighting every instinct screaming at me to move and fight.

“You actually managed to keep her subdued,” Ambrose says, sounding impressed. “Maybe you’re not completely useless after all.”

The door beside me creaks open and cold air rushes in, carrying the scent of Ambrose’s cologne—something expensive and sharp that makes my nose burn.

Just a few more seconds. I need him to get closer if I’m going to make this shot count.

“It’s sort of a shame, really,” Ambrose says, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “All that fire. All that potential. And look at her now.”

I can feel him leaning in, probably to grab me. My muscles tense, ready to strike.

“Get back!” Emmett’s voice cracks through the night. “It’s a trap!”

42

QUINN

I jerk up,already knowing I’ve lost the element of surprise, but refusing to let that stop me. My finger squeezes the trigger just as Ambrose throws himself to the side, the bullet missing him by a fucking hair.

“You son of a bitch,” I snarl, partly at Emmett for his betrayal and partly at Ambrose for dodging my shot. I launch my boot at the car door, slamming it into Ambrose’s body as he tries to regain his balance. The impact sends him stumbling back, and I squeeze off another round.

But he’s already moving, diving out of the way with the kind of reflexes you develop when you spend time in prison. My bullet embeds itself in the pavement where he was standing a split second ago.

Rage and frustration surge through me. I was so fucking close to ending this—to putting a bullet in the head of the man who tortured Atlas, who burned down my home and my tattoo shop, who has been systematically trying to destroy everything I care about.

But I don’t have time to dwell on the missed opportunity. Movement catches my eye as Ambrose rolls to his feet, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

“You should’ve given me what I wanted, Quinn,” he says, shaking his head as he dusts himself off. “The marker was mine. And now you’ll pay for taking it from me.”

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