Page 32 of Princess of Vengeance

I can’t even finish getting the words past the lump in my throat, but it doesn’t matter. The damage is already done, and the hurt that flashes across their faces nearly breaks me. But I have to keep the lie going and I have to make them believe it.

It’s the only way to keep them alive.

“You’re lying,” Nico growls, straining against his restraints. “This isn’t about survival or power. It’s never been about that for you.”

“You of all people should understand.” Why won’t he just let this happen? Why does he have to make me love him more with every word out of his mouth? “You’ve been a leader. You know what it means to make the hard choices. To do what needs to be done.”

His jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jump. Behind him, Atlas and Killian are dead silent now, watching this back and forth like it’s a car wreck they can’t look away from.

“This is the best choice I have.” I gesture at the blood soaking through my shirt. “Look where fighting got us. Look where loyalty and love got us. On our knees with guns to our heads.” I shake my head like I’m disappointed in all of us. “What we had was good while it lasted. The four of us… yeah, it was fun. But it’s not worth dying for.”

Nico makes a sound like I just gutted him, and I wish I could take it all back. I have to keep pushing forward though. I’m going to get all of us out of here alive no matter the cost to my heart or my pride or my own well-being.

And I know they’d each do the same for me if the situation was reversed.

My eyes catch on a shard of broken glass near my feet, probably from when Malcolm’s men smashed through the window. I pick it up, ignoring the way it bites into my palm. That pain is nothing compared to what I’m about to do.

“Quinn.” Atlas’s voice is a low, warning rumble. I’m not sure he even understands what I have in mind—just that it can’t possibly be good. “Don’t.”

I meet his eyes as I lift my shirt, exposing the three rings tattooed over my heart. The marks that bind me to these men.

My hand shakes as I bring the glass to my skin. The first cut slices through Atlas’s ring, and I hear his sharp intake of breath. Blood wells up, trickling down my chest as I drag the makeshift blade through the clean line of Nico’s circle next.

“Mia cara, please.” Nico’s voice is hoarse. “Stop.”

But I can’t stop. I have to finish this. I have to make them believe that I’m choosing to break these bonds.

The glass slices through Killian’s ring last, and his silence is deafening. When I look up at him, his eyes are cold and emptyin a way I’ve never seen before. Like I’ve killed something inside him that can never be brought back to life.

Blood runs down my chest in thin rivulets, following the paths of the three broken circles. These bonds were supposed to be unbreakable. Now they’ve been scarred and ruined by my own hand.

Part of me aches to kiss the Princes one last time. To feel Atlas’s strength, to breathe in Nico’s familiar scent, to let Killian’s intensity burn away this hollow feeling in my chest. But Malcolm would never allow it. And from the looks on their faces right now, I’m not sure they’d even want me to try.

The glass slips from my bloody fingers and hits the floor with a soft clink. Their eyes burn into my back as I turn away, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to look at them again. Because if I do, if I see that mix of betrayal and devastation in their eyes one more time, I might break. I might tell them the truth and beg for forgiveness.

And get us all killed.

Blood drips steadily from my palm, and the cuts on my chest burn beneath my shirt. Good. I need the pain right now. It’ll give me something to focus on besides the sound of their harsh breathing behind me, besides the knowledge that this is the last time I’ll ever be this close to them.

“I’m ready.” I turn to face Malcolm, and his cold smile tells me he bought the whole performance.

Thank fuck it wasn’t all for nothing. If we all make it out of here alive, it’ll be worth the heartache and sacrifice I’ve just forced upon the four of us.

Malcolm’s hand lands on my lower back as he guides me toward the door, and it takes everything in me not to shudder at his touch. His men follow, leaving Nico, Killian, and Atlas still zip-tied in the living room. At least they’ll find a way out of those binds easily enough without guns aimed at their heads.

For a split second after we step outside, I let myself imagine running. But Malcolm’s hand presses more firmly against my back like he can read my mind. Like he knows exactly how close I am to trying something stupid and desperate.

He opens the car door for me as if he’s a fucking gentleman. As if we’re on a date instead of… whatever the hell this is. I slide into the back seat and Malcolm gets in beside me. Seconds later, we’re pulling away from the curb. Away from my men. Away from everything that matters.

“You know what’s funny?” He glances over at me, looking half-amused in his cruel fucking way. “You tried so hard to spare their feelings with that little performance. You made them think you chose power over love.” He sneers, almost laughing out loud. “But now they’ll hate you anyway. They’ll always remember you as the woman who betrayed them.”

My heart feels like it’s being crushed in my chest. Because he’s right—they will hate me. They’ll remember me as someone who chose Malcolm over them and broke our bonds like they meant nothing.

And maybe that’s better. Maybe hate will keep them from coming after me. That hate they feel might just keep them alive.

But goddamn, it hurts.

13

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