Page 64 of Princess of Vengeance

The walk to the safe house feels endless. Each step takes a level of concentration that I barely have, and my legs are feeling more unsteady by the second.

My mind keeps running through everything I learned today and everything that happened—my mother’s death, Malcolm’s twisted compensation to my father, his hands on me, the threat in his voice.

By the time I reach the safe house, my vision is swimming again, and the edges are going dark. I barely make it up the steps to bang weakly on the door.

23

KILLIAN

The soundof weak knocking at the door has me reaching for my gun automatically. Very few people know we’re here, and none of those people should be stopping by for a fucking visit without a heads-up first.

I move silently to the door, keeping to the wall with my gun held low but ready. Through the peephole, all I can make out is a hunched figure.

It could be a trap. Hell, it could be almost anything on this side of town.

When I crack the door open, my breath catches in my throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ, siren.”

Quinn is crumpled against the doorframe, trembling like she’s been dropped in ice water. Her eyes are wide and unfocused, and her breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.

I holster my gun and throw the door open, scooping her into my arms before she completely collapses. She’s one of the strongest, most badass people I know, but she weighs next to nothing in my arms.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her hair. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She clings to me, digging her fingers into my shoulders with the kind of desperation that makes me want to go on a fucking rampage until I’ve fixed whatever is wrong in her world.

That rampage will have to wait though. Her whole body is shaking against mine, and when she whispers my name, she sounds way too far away.

I’ve seen this before, when the memories of what those fuckers did to her claw their way back to the surface. I don’t know what triggered it this time, but I know something that might help.

“You’re here with me,” I tell her, kicking the door shut behind us and carrying her into the house. “You’re with us. You’re not there anymore.”

Her teeth are chattering, and her skin is cold and clammy under my hands. Her pulse is beating too fast against my chest as I hold her tighter, trying to warm her with my body heat. The tremors running through her feel violent enough to shake her apart.

“Breathe,” I say. “Just focus on breathing.”

But she can’t. Her body is locked in fight-or-flight, and right now, she can’t do either.

Atlas and Nico appear from the kitchen, their expressions turning from confused to concerned in an instant when they see Quinn in my arms.

“What the fuck happened?” Atlas asks, moving toward us with his hands already reaching out.

“A panic attack. A bad one,” I say, already heading for the bathroom. “Or PTSD. I don’t know what set it off.”

“Fuck.” Nico is following close behind. “There’s no telling what caused it this time, with all the shit she’s been going through.”

“We can ask her later,” I say. “Right now we need to get her warm. She’s fucking freezing.”

I carry her into the bathroom, where I pass her gently to my brothers. They take her weight carefully, supporting her body between the two of them as she continues to shake.

“Strip her down.” I’m already pulling my own shirt over my head. “But be careful not to make any sudden movements.”

While I get rid of my clothes, Nico and Atlas work on Quinn’s, whispering soft reassurances to her as they go.

“We’re just getting these clothes off you, mia cara,” Nico says, easing her jeans down.

Atlas takes over with her shirt, keeping each movement slow and methodical. “You’re safe, vicious. We’re right here with you.”

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