Page 22 of Bonds of Obsession

“Yeah, well…” I mirror the almost-smile. “Let’s hope we don’t make a habit of needing each other’s help like this.”

Vic glances up from his computer. “Agreed.” He hesitates, glancing at Willow, then adds, “But if you need anything else, you know where to find us.”

We head downstairs, escorted by Willow and all three of her men. She’s still holding Dayana, and when the baby waves a chubby hand at me as if saying goodbye, I can’t stop myself from smiling.

“Take care, Quinn,” Willow says softly as I reach for the door handle. “And good luck. I hope you find him soon.”

I nod, surprised by the warmth in her voice. We barely know each other, but I feel like something has shifted between us. Maybe it’s because of our shared experience of loving dangerous men, or maybe it’s just Willow’s open nature, the way she seems to embrace life with open arms. Either way, I’m grateful for her kindness.

We might not be friends, exactly, but it’s good to know that we aren’t enemies. God knows I have enough of those already.

“Thanks, Willow. Take care of yourself.”

We step outside, and I take a second to exhale, rolling my shoulders back and letting go of some of the stress and anxiety I’ve been feeling. We’re one step closer to getting Atlas back, and that’s worth taking a few seconds to celebrate—if only inside my own head.

As we approach our bikes, I pull out my phone. My moment of feeling thankful slips away, replaced by grim determination. My fingers hover over the keypad for a moment before I punch in the number Ambrose called me from earlier.

It rings once, then twice.

“Quinn.” Ambrose’s voice comes through, clear and sharp. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d call.”

I grip the phone tighter as all the stress I’ve just unloaded comes rushing back. “Cut the shit, Ambrose. You know why I’m calling. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Do tell.”

“I’ll get you into the Dark Lotus Syndicate. But I want Atlas back. Unharmed.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment I wonder if he’s hung up. Then his laughter crackles through the speaker, cold and humorless.

“Unharmed? I’m afraid that ship has sailed, my dear.” His tone turns cruel. “Your precious Atlas has already experienced quite a bit of… discomfort.”

I know what he’s saying is true. I’d like to pretend I’ve repressed the memories of Atlas’s tortured screams from the last time I talked to Ambrose, but it would be a lie. I still hear those gut-wrenching cries every time I close my eyes to sleep at night.

“You son of a bitch,” I hiss, barely keeping my simmering rage in check. “If you don’t think for a second that I won’t?—”

“Now, now,” he interrupts smoothly. “Let’s not get emotional. I can promise to keep him alive and in… relatively decent shape. As long as you uphold your end of the deal, of course.”

I close my eyes for a second and take a breath to get myself back together, for Atlas’s sake as much as my own. If there’s one thing my dad taught me—and the thing Ambrose just reaffirmed—it’s that negotiations and emotions don’t mix. “Fine. But the torture stops now. Immediately.”

“Fine.” His smug voice parrots mine. “I accept your terms. Get me into the Dark Lotus Syndicate, and I’ll ensure Atlas remains relatively unscathed.”

My stomach churns at his casual cruelty, but I force myself to stay focused. “I need proof that he’s alive. Now.”

There’s a pause, then a rustling sound. My heart races, hoping to hear Atlas’s voice.

Instead, a bloodcurdling scream rips through the speaker. It’s unmistakably Atlas, his voice raw and agonized. The sound cuts off abruptly, replaced by Ambrose’s chilling chuckle.

“There’s your proof, my dear. Don’t worry—he’ll come back to you alive and well. It’s amazing how much pain you can inflict without causing lasting damage.”

My vision blurs red, and I grip my phone so hard that my fingers ache. Every muscle in my body tenses as I fight the urge to hurl the damn thing across the parking lot.

I’m about to unleash another torrent of threats and curses at Ambrose when I feel a firm grip on my arm. Nico’s hand is there, steady and grounding. His touch is a silent warning, reminding me to keep it together.

I take another deep breath, forcing myself to unclench my jaw. He’s right. I can’t lose control now, not when we’re so close. Atlas needs me to stay focused.

“It’s a deal,” I tell Ambrose, my voice strained. “I’ll call you once I’ve set up the meeting with the Dark Lotus Syndicate. I’ll tell you when and where it’s going down.”

“Excellent.” He sounds so fucking pleased with himself that I want nothing more than to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze the life out of him. But not now. Not today. “I look forward to our next chat, Quinn. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

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