Page 24 of Bonds of Obsession

My stomach twists at the mention of Emmett’s name, but I force myself to focus. “Any other threats?”

Cabby shakes his head. “A couple of minor raids to test our defenses, but nothing we couldn’t handle, even with all of this going on. Everyone’s jumpy as hell though.”

I nod, taking in the information. “Okay, listen up. I know you’re all worried, and you have every right to be. But I need you to understand something. The man who came after me? This isn’t about the gang. It’s personal.”

Damian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Personal? Quinn, he shot up our shop!”

“I know, I know. But he’s not interested in taking over territory or muscling in on our business. He’s after me, specifically.”

Jasper leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Why? What’d you do to piss off someone that badly?”

I hesitate, weighing how much to reveal. “It’s… complicated. Family stuff. But the important thing is, the gang isn’t his target.”

Cabby’s eyes narrow. “And what about you? Are you safe?”

I take a second to try to find the right words to reassure everyone without revealing too much. “I’m as safe as I can be, given the circumstances. I’ve got?—”

My voice trails off as my eyes catch on a bullet hole in the far wall. It’s not particularly large or noticeable, just one of many scars left on the shop. But something about it snags in my mind, tugging at a memory that’s been just out of reach.

Suddenly, the hazy fog of that night starts to clear. I remember Atlas’s arms around me and the words he spoke directly into my ear.“I’m doing what I’ll always do. Protecting you.”Then the press of his lips against my temple, gentle and full of emotion even though the whole world seemed to be blowing up around us.

The memory shifts, and I see Atlas’s face as if he’s right here in front of me. His eyes are locked on mine with an intensitythat makes me reach out for the back of a nearby chair to steady myself.

“Nico, get her out of here!” Atlas’s voice rings out through the chaos, sharp and commanding. I remember the way he looked at Nico in that moment, the silent communication that passed between them.

I blink, forcing myself back to the here and now. Everyone is staring at me with varying degrees of concern showing on their faces. I realize I’ve been quiet for too long, lost in the flood of memories.

“Quinn?” Damian’s voice is hesitant, and it sounds like he’s a mile away. “You okay?”

I nod, but Atlas’s face keeps reappearing right in front of me. My heart is beating faster and faster, and suddenly the air in the room feels too thin.

“I’m… I’m fine,” I manage to choke out, but even I can hear how unconvincing it sounds.

Damian takes a step closer, concern etched across his face. “You don’t look fine. Maybe you should sit down.”

I wave him off, desperate to regain control. The last fucking thing I need is for my people to see me falling apart. “No, really, I just need a minute.”

But the memories keep coming, relentless and overwhelming. Atlas’s voice echoes in my head, mixing with the sound of gunfire and shattering glass. I can almost feel his arms around me again, can almost hear him crying out in pain.

My vision starts to blur at the edges, and I stumble back, nearly knocking over the chair I’ve been using to keep myself upright. The room spins, and I can’t seem to catch my breath no matter how hard I try.

“Quinn?” Jasper’s voice sounds far away and distorted. “What’s going on?”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. My throat feels tight, like I’m being strangled.

Nico’s voice cuts through from somewhere to my left. “Everyone out. Now.”

There’s a flurry of movement and murmured protests, but I can’t focus on any of it. My vision narrows to pinpricks, and I feel myself swaying on my feet.

Strong hands grip my arms, steadying me. “I’ve got you,” Killian’s deep voice rumbles close to my ear. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

I try to nod, but my head feels too heavy. My legs move mechanically as they guide me toward the back of the shop.

Cool, musty air hits my face, and my brain registers that we’ve made it downstairs to the basement, but the tightness in my chest isn’t letting up. I gasp for breath, each inhale more shallow and frantic than the last.

It’s like I’m back in that alley when the Bullets attacked me, pinned down and helpless, or trapped in that warehouse with the Young Killers closing in.

Sweat beads on my forehead, and my hands shake uncontrollably. I press my back against the cool concrete wall, trying to ground myself, but it’s not working. The memories of that night in the alley, of being abused by that fucking gang, keep flooding in. And now it’s all mixing with the fresh trauma of Atlas’s kidnapping.

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