Page 47 of Bonds of Obsession

So yeah, definitely not our buddies. Not now. Not ever.

And that’s okay with me, just as long as they keep up their end of the deal we’ve made.

“A lot.” Atlas swallows hard, his throat working. “Heard… heard different voices. Different accents. Professional types. Not just local muscle.” He tries to shift position and hisses in pain, his face going gray. “European. Russian maybe. Middle Eastern. Twenty, thirty guys at least. Maybe more. Hard to tell when you’re getting your ribs kicked in.”

“Mercs,” Killian growls, giving his handiwork a once-over with barely contained rage. “High-end ones, from the looks of what we saw tonight. That takes serious fucking cash. More than an ex-con should have at his disposal to throw around.”

“Yeah.” Atlas’s head lolls slightly against the pillow. “Heard them… talking about contracts. Previous jobs. These aren’t street thugs. They’re… they’re proper operators. Ex-military. Special forces. That kind of shit. The type that make people disappear for a living.”

Nico nods, processing, but his hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists. “Anything else? Any detail might help us track the fucker down. Put him in the ground where he belongs.”

“Sorry.” Atlas shakes his head. “It’s all… fragments. Darkness. Pain. They kept me… kept me under most of the time. Some kind of drugs.” His free hand trembles slightly, and I see track marks in the crook of his elbow. “Everything’s blurred together like a bad fucking trip.”

I squeeze his other hand, wanting to tell Nico to back off, to let him rest. But I know better. Know this information might be the difference between life and death later. Between getting Ambrose first or him getting to us.

“That’s okay,” Nico says, softer now, a hint of guilt creeping into his voice. “We’ll figure it out. Get some rest, brother. We’ll keep watch. No one’s getting past us tonight.”

“Fucking genius move though.” Killian nods in my direction as he secures the last bandage, pride evident in his savage grin. “Using the votum like that. Bet Ambrose never saw it coming. Never thought his pretty little trap would snap shut on his own throat.” He gives a low whistle. “Wonder if that’s what the bastard was planning himself—get the marker, join their ranks, then use his own votum to make them turn on you.”

I nod, the realization hitting hard. “He seems to like making people dance to his tune. Would’ve worked too. Nothing would’ve stopped them. The votum… it’s sacred to them. Above everything else. Above blood. Above loyalty. Above life itself.”

“They would’ve had to help him,” Nico agrees, his different-colored eyes blazing with understanding. “Even if they didn’t want to. Even if they knew he was playing them.”

“Exactly.” Killian’s eyes gleam with savage appreciation. “But you beat him to it. Turned his own endgame against him. Now we just have to figure out how to actually get to the fucker.” Hebares his teeth in what might be a grin but looks more like a promise of violence. “Can’t hide forever. Not from us.”

Atlas’s eyes snap open at that, suddenly more alert, fever-bright. “Not forever. But he’s… he’s good at this. Patient. Look at how long he’s been playing us. How many pieces he moved into place before we even knew the game had started.”

Nico swears softly, viciously. “Yeah. Fuck. We can play his game though. We can beat him. I think we proved that tonight. He’s not as invincible as he likes to think.”

“We’ll find him,” I say, and it’s not a promise—it’s a statement of fact, cold as a grave. “He can run. He can hide. Doesn’t matter.” My fingers brush over the fresh burn on my shoulder where the marker used to be, the pain feeding my focus. “He’s already dead. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Atlas’s eyes suddenly widen all over again, like he’s just remembered something important. “Wait. Your votum. Quinn, you used one of your—” He tries to sit up straighter and immediately grimaces in pain. “Fuck. I was so busy trying not to bleed out that I forgot how pissed off I am. You shouldn’t have done that. Not for me. Not when they could have?—”

I let go of his hand to cross my arms, my fingers digging into my biceps to keep my hands from shaking. The worry I’ve been holding back threatens to choke me. “Of course I fucking did. What else was I supposed to do? Let him keep torturing you?”

“You had other options. I don’t know what, but something. Anything besides the Syndicate?—”

“I’m not worried about the Syndicate right now. The Syndicate can go fuck themselves. And I appreciate that you were worried about me while you were being beaten half to death, but I wish…” My throat gets tight. “I wish none of this had happened. I wish you hadn’t sacrificed yourself at Blood and Ink. You and Nico and Killian, you shouldn’t have had to risk your lives just to save mine.”

“Quinn—”

“No.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to tell me it was worth it. You don’t get to say you’d do it again. Because seeing you like this…” I gesture at his battered body. “This is exactly what we’re always saying we want to prevent, isn’t it? Tell me I’m wrong. And this time… this time it’s on me, and it feels really fucking bad.”

Atlas holds my gaze like he can see right through my anger to the fear underneath. To the guilt that’s been eating me alive since they took him.

“No, it’s not your fault,” he says softly. “None of this is on you.”

“Okay.” Killian stands up abruptly, clearing his throat. “That’s the worst of it handled. I’ll need to check these spots again in a few hours to make sure the infection isn’t spreading.” He starts packing up the medical supplies with quick, precise movements. “And we’ll get you some more antibiotics. Strong ones.”

“I’ve got a guy,” Nico says. “Can have them here by morning. Military-grade stuff.”

“Good.” Killian nods. “Because some of these cuts are nasty. Probably used dirty blades on purpose, the fuckers.”

Atlas’s eyes are starting to drift closed, exhaustion finally winning out over stubbornness. Nico notices and steps closer to the bed.

“Get some rest, brother,” he says quietly. “We can finish catching you up tomorrow, after you’ve slept. All the threats breathing down our necks will still be there then.” His mouth twists into a grim smile. “Ambrose, the Syndicate, whoever the fuck else wants a piece of us—they can wait.”

“The world’s not ending tonight,” Killian agrees. “At least not in the next few hours.”

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