Page 36 of Princess of Vengeance

There’s a reason why I’ve tried my best to suppress that particular emotion over the years. It’s too loud in my head and too damn messy. It echoes and bounces off the walls until it fills up all the space in this shitty little house until I can barely breathe.

I need to move. I have to get out before I crack and let all this pent-up shit loose.

“I’m going out.” My voice sounds almost strangled even to my own ears as I push away from the wall.

“Where?” Atlas’s head snaps up, suddenly alert. Always the fucking protector.

“I’ll be back.” I’m already moving toward the door. “I won’t be long.”

Neither of them tries to stop me. They know better. And right now, they’re too wrapped up in their own pain to worry about whatever the fuck I’m about to do.

I gun my bike through the streets of Detroit until the engine’s growl drowns out everything except the chaos in my head, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough for what I’ve been through tonight.

I end up at a shithole dive bar where rats outnumber the customers. The whiskey is watered down and most of the guys sitting around the bar would rather slit my throat than speak to me, but that’s never stopped me from striking up a conversationbefore. It’s just a matter of knowing who to talk to and being able to follow through on a threat.

It just so happens that I excel at both of those things.

Tobias is in his usual corner, nursing what is probably his fifth or sixth drink of the night. His eyes go wide when he spots me, and he nearly knocks over his glass trying to stand.

“Sit the fuck down,” I tell him, sliding into the booth. He drops back into his seat like his legs got cut out from under him. He’s always been smarter than he looks. I’m glad that hasn’t changed. “Have you seen Pace?”

The name of my other old acquaintance is barely out of my mouth before he materializes from somewhere in the shadows. Guys like Tobias and Pace can always smell opportunity—and violence—from a mile away. That’s why they make the best informants.

Pace hesitates for a second before sliding into the seat across from me. “It’s been a while,” is all he says.

Tobias nods, then glances around as if he’s looking for the nearest exit. Both of these guys have seen me snap before. They know what I’m capable of when I get angry. And I’d be willing to bet I look about as angry as I ever have tonight.

“I have a job for you.” I toss a few bills onto the table, enough to pay for a few days of liquor and women. “Both of you.”

They wait, knowing better than to reach for the money before I’ve finished talking. I’ve taught them that lesson before. Painfully.

“Quinn Kent.” I have to swallow hard after saying her name, and a dull ache spreads through my chest as I describe her for them. “I want to know where she goes, what she does, and who she talks to.” I lean forward, letting them see and hear exactly how serious I am. “Everything.”

“Sounds like your girl ran off, huh?” Pace asks, then immediately shrinks back when my eyes lock on to him.

My hand shoots out, and my fingers wrap around his throat before I can even think to stop myself. “Choose your next words very fucking carefully.”

“Quinn,” he wheezes. “Just Quinn. We’ll watch Quinn.”

I release him and he gasps for air, putting a little more space between us as he rubs his neck. Tobias hasn’t moved a muscle, which is why he’s still breathing without any difficulty.

“If you see her, you let me know. Immediately.” I slide the money toward them. “And this stays between us. No one else needs to know about our arrangement.”

They both nod, already dividing up the cash. I stand, leaving them to work out the details between themselves. They know what happens to people who cross me and talk when they shouldn’t.

Just like they know I’ll be back with more money. And more questions.

Because even if she cut me out of her life, I need to know she’s still alive. I need to know she’s safe. I need to know… everything.

15

QUINN

I jerk awake with a gasp,disoriented and scared as I instinctively reach for the gun I have tucked away in the nightstand next to my bed.

The nightstand is different though. Everything feels different now that I’m fully awake and my heart isn’t trying to actively escape my chest.

That’s when the last bits of my nightmare fade and reality comes crashing back in. The nightstand is different because the room is different. My gun—along with the handful of meager possessions I have left in the world—is back at the safe house.

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