Page 11 of Princess of Vengeance

“It comes from lots of practice. Too much practice.” Kendrick’s voice is distant, like he’s somewhere else. “Hold this.” He guides Killian’s fingers to the right spot, then makes another stitch. “When you’re elbow-deep in someone’s gut while mortars are falling, you learn to work fast and clean.”

Quinn doesn’t make a sound as they finish patching her up. The pain meds from Killian’s veterinary bag finally kick in, dragging her under. Her breathing is steady now, and her face is peaceful for the first time since Elliot stuck that blade in her.

When they’re done, Kendrick steps back and wipes the blood off his hands. “She’ll heal clean. You won’t see any infection if you keep the wounds dressed right.”

I study him for a long moment, then lower the gun. Not all the way—just enough to show I’m willing to listen. “Good. Now talk. You’ve only got a few minutes to convince me not to kill you, so make them count.”

He nods, like he was expecting this. “Zoey is losing her grip. She and Stefan, they don’t know shit about leading. About brotherhood.” His lip curls. “Half the club is ready to walk. The other half is still too scared of her to try.”

“And you walked anyway.”

“I had to.” He glances at Quinn’s sleeping form. “I couldn’t stay after what they’ve become.” He takes a deep breath. “We should’ve had more faith in you. I should’ve known you’d get us through the tough shit, like you always did.”

“You didn’t believe that when it mattered,” I say, my voice tight. “We could’ve handled shit differently, but nobody spoke up for me. For us.”

“Maybe not.” He meets my eyes. “But you’re still a better leader than she’ll ever be. People are finally starting to remember that.”

I hesitate, holding his gaze for a long moment, then slowly lower the gun completely. Not because I trust him—that’ll take a lot more than some pretty words and good stitching. But because despite my threat, I’m not going to shoot the guy when he just helped save Quinn’s life. He’s earned that much respect, at least.

Kendrick’s gaze drifts to Quinn’s sleeping form, then to Atlas and Killian.

“What about you?” He keeps his voice low. “What the fuck happened that brought you here? Last I heard, the three Princes were doing just fine without us traitors dragging you down.”

I don’t like the edge of bitterness in his voice, but I have lumped him in with the other asshole traitors more than once over the past several minutes.

“We need to lie low for a while,” I tell him shortly. It’s all I’m willing to say. He might have earned back a few ounces of grudging respect, but fuck if I’m going to give him anythingmore than the bare minimum. “We weren’t exactly planning on running into anyone here.”

“No shit.” He’s quiet for a moment, then shrugs. “Take it.”

“Take what?”

“The safe house. I was just crashing here anyway.” His eyes flick to Quinn again. “It’ll be easier for me to find somewhere else than it will be for three big motherfuckers and a woman with blue hair who looks like she went ten rounds with a meat grinder.”

I can’t suppress a grunt of acknowledgement. He’s not wrong about that. But letting him walk out that door feels like Russian roulette with five chambers loaded.

Atlas shifts his weight, and I can feel him and Killian watching Kendrick just as closely as I am. They’re trying to read him. Trying to figure out if this is another betrayal waiting to happen.

My finger twitches toward the trigger again. One pull, and all our problems disappear. No loose ends, no risk of him running his mouth to the wrong person. It would be the smartest play.

But something in my gut says he’s telling the truth. That same instinct that’s kept me alive all these years, that’s helped me know who to trust and who to put down.

“If anyone finds out where we are…” I let the threat hang in the air.

“They won’t.” His voice is steady. “Not from me. I already turned my back on you guys—my brothers—once. I’m not about to do it again.”

I study him for another long moment, then step aside. “Get the fuck out of here.” I gesture toward the door. “One more thing. If you really want to make this right, keep your ear to the ground. Let me know if anyone starts sniffing around for us.”

“Will do.” He puts his hand on the doorknob, then pauses to look back over his shoulder at me. “You know there are more ofus out there, right? More old Carnage members who regret what happened, and who’d rather see you running things than that snake Zoey.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I keep my face blank. There’s no point thinking about what could’ve been. No point in thinking about the brothers we lost, or about how different things might have gone if people had just trusted me to lead them through the shit.

“Get out of here,” I tell him, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “Before I change my mind about letting you walk.”

He goes, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Well, that was a fucking trip,” Atlas mutters, breaking the silence. “Are you sure about letting him go?”

I run a hand over my face. “No. But killing him didn’t feel right either.”

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