Page 7 of Bonds of Obsession

He cuts me off with a snort. “Oh, how touching. You know, it’s almost funny. She said almost the exact same thing about you.” His voice takes on a mocking tone. “‘If you hurt Atlas, I’ll make you regret it.’ It would be sort of adorable if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.”

I clench my jaw, fighting back the urge to spit in his face. He continues, seemingly oblivious to my growing anger—or maybe deliberately stoking it.

“You two and your feelings for each other. It’s a weakness, you know. One that I’ve been all too happy to exploit.”

As he speaks, I test the chain one last time. It’s now or never.

“It isn’t weakness, you asshole,” I growl. “It’s strength.”

With that, I summon every ounce of energy I have left. I push off the ground with my feet, using the momentum to lift myself up. The chain slips off the hook with a satisfying clank.

Ambrose’s eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t have time to react. I throw myself forward, my body slamming into his with all the force I can muster. We both go down hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me.

But I’m not done yet. Even with my hands still chained, I manage to roll on top of him, pinning him to the ground with my weight.

For a moment, it feels like I’ve finally gotten the upper hand. But the victory is short-lived.

“Guards!” he yells, struggling against me. He’s older and not nearly as built as I am, but he’s spent enough time in the pen to hold his own. “Get in here now!”

Before I can do any serious damage, the door bursts open. Two of his mercenaries rush in, and they’re on me in an instant. I try to fight them off, but I’m still chained and weak from the torture. It’s a losing battle from the start.

One of them grabs me by the hair, yanking me off Ambrose. The other delivers a vicious kick to my ribs that leaves me gasping for air. They drag me back to the center of the room, efficiently reattaching the chains to the ceiling hook.

I struggle against their grip, but it’s useless. My brief moment of freedom is over, and I’m right back where I started.

Ambrose staggers to his feet and wipes blood from the spot where my head must have connected with his face. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, are burning with rage. The smug, condescending expression he’s worn through our whole conversation is gone, replaced by a look of pure hatred.

“You’re going to regret that,” he snarls, stepping closer. “I was content to keep you alive, but now?” He shakes his head, his bloodied lips twisting into a cruel smile. “Now I’m really looking forward to killing you, once your slut of a girlfriend gives me what I want.”

3

NICO

I’m sittingon the edge of the bed watching Quinn sleep. I’ve completely lost track of time, but I can’t take my eyes off her—and not just because she’s fucking gorgeous.

It’s hard not to feel protective when she’s lying here so peacefully, especially after the hellish twenty-four hours we’ve been through with her.

The memory of seeing her so completely exhausted and broken cuts right to my core, not because I’m a stranger to suffering and grief, but because I’ve never seen it from her.

Not like that.

I’ve seen her mourn her dad. I’ve seen her come close to breaking down when she’s lost gang members. But seeing her torn up over Atlas took things to a whole new level—a level I don’t want to revisit anytime soon.

She hung up the phone with Ambrose, and it was like a dam bursting. Everything came pouring out. Sobs wracked her body as she finally let go of the iron grip she normally has over her self-control. I held her close, feeling helpless as she cried for Atlas, for the sacrifice he’s made. And I think—though I probably won’t ever know for sure—that she was crying for more than thattoo. For a simpler past. For everyone she’s lost along the way. For the uncertain future ahead of us.

Now, even though she’s been sleeping for hours since that phone call, her brows are still knitted together in a frown. Her fingers are gripping the blanket as if it’s a lifeline, and she’s still occasionally tossing and turning, letting out angry, frustrated little sounds in her dreams. The sight of her like this, so vulnerable and broken, makes my fucking heart hurt like nothing else.

I shift my gaze from Quinn’s restless form to the other side of the room. Killian’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes locked on her too. I’m not sure how long he’s been there this time around, but we’ve been trading places next to her off and on all night. But it’s the intensity of his stare that catches me off guard.

There’s something in his expression I’ve never seen before when he looks at Quinn now. A raw vulnerability that strips away his usual quiet confidence. It’s like looking in a mirror and seeing my own thoughts reflected back at me.

Especially now, in this moment, I know we’re thinking the same thing. We both wish it had been us instead of Atlas. That we could’ve been the ones to make that sacrifice, that he should be here with her too.

Killian’s jaw clenches as his fingers dig into his folded arms. I can almost hear the words running through his head, because they’re echoing in mine too.

It should’ve been me.

If it had been one of us, Atlas would be here now. He’s just better at shit like this. He’d know exactly what to say and how to comfort her. Instead, we’re both left watching her struggle through nightmares, feeling utterly fucking useless.

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