Page 61 of Bonds of Obsession

Four against a small army. But somehow, in this moment, it feels like we’re the ones with the advantage.

Zoey’s face hardens, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine.” She spits the word like it’s poison. “If that’s how you want to play it.”

Her gaze slides to Atlas, and something ugly crawls into her expression.

“Although I have to say, Atlas, you’re not looking so hot.” Her eyes rake over him, taking in the careful way he holds himself, the effects of pain he can’t quite hide. “Seems like she’s more than happy to use you as cannon fodder. A convenient body when she needs one.” Her lips curve up cruelly. “You would’ve been better off staying with me.”

“Better off with you?” He shakes his head, disgust evident in every line of his face. “I’d rather take another bullet.”

Then he does something that makes my heart stutter in my chest. He yanks up his shirt, revealing the fresh ink I put there—my mark permanently etched into his skin.

“You see this? Quinn made that mark.” His voice drops to a growl that sends heat racing through my veins. “This is where I belong.She’swho I belong to.” His eyes lock with mine for a heartbeat, and the possession there is enough to take my breath away. “The only person worth bleeding for.”

The way he claims me so publicly is almost overwhelming. I want to drag him somewhere private and remind him exactly why he wears my mark. But I can’t, so I force myself to focus on the threat in front of us, even as my fingers itch with the need to touch him.

Red splotches creep up Zoey’s neck, and for a moment she looks like she might actually try to claw my eyes out—and part of me hopes she does. I’m just the one to give her the beating she deserves.

Instead, she jerks her chin at her crew. “We’re done here. But remember this moment, Quinn. When your territory is burning and your people are bleeding out in the streets.” Her gaze cuts to Atlas. “And you? You’ll regret choosing her. The Tyrants are going to crush Enigma, and anyone stupid enough to stand with them.”

“Get fucked,” I snap, but she’s already turning away, with her crew falling in around her like attack dogs answering theirmaster’s call. I watch them leave, memorizing faces, counting weapons. The familiar calculations of war.

“You didn’t have to antagonize her like that,” Nico says to Atlas, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “She was already gunning for us.”

Atlas shrugs, then winces at the movement. “No regrets.” His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. “Every word was true.”

I turn to him, and his eyes are dark with pain and something else—something hungry that makes my breath catch. Before I can stop myself, I’m rising up on my toes, catching his mouth with mine and pouring everything I can’t say into the kiss. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, and for just a moment, the rest of the world fades away.

“Save it for later, lovebirds,” Killian drawls. “We’ve got work to do.”

He’s right. I break the kiss but keep my hand in Atlas’s. “Blood and Ink,” I say, and they all nod. We’ve got a war to prepare for.

Less than a minute later, we’re tearing through the streets of Detroit. I’m gripping the handlebars tight enough to hurt while my mind races with plans and contingencies.

When Blood and Ink comes into view, my chest tightens for everything that’s been lost. Most of the windows are still boarded up from Ambrose’s attack, and bullet holes pepper the brick facade. But it’s still standing. Still mine.

Just like my people, who come out to greet us as we pull up. They’re battered but not broken, and the sight of them makes my throat tight with pride and worry.

“Quinn.” Cabby nods in greeting as I dismount. “We heard the Tyrants were making moves.”

“Get everyone inside,” I tell him. “We need to talk.”

They file in quickly—the ones who survived, the ones who stayed loyal. My ranks have thinned since Ambrose’s attack, but the ones who remain? They’ll always be family.

Inside, there are fewer chairs now—some got destroyed in the firefight—but my people make do, perching on counters and leaning against walls as they gather around.

I hop up onto the main counter, and my men arrange themselves around me. The trust in these faces looking back at me… it’s a weight I’ll carry until my dying breath.

“Things have gone sideways,” I start, not bothering to sugarcoat it. They deserve the truth. “Emmett’s with the Tyrants now.”

“That rat fuck,” Damon spits, and angry murmurs ripple through the room.

“He knows our operations,” Jasper says quietly. The old man’s face is lined with concern. “Our routes, our safe houses…”

I nod. “Which means we change everything. Every single thing he knows about, we scrap it and start fresh.” My gaze sweeps the room. “It’ll be hard. Dangerous. But we’ve survived worse.”

“We’re with you, Quinn.” Cabby’s voice rings with conviction, and others echo him. The loyalty in their voices makes my heart clench.

“Good. Because here’s what we’re going to do?—”

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