Page 9 of Princess of Vengeance

“It’s gotta be better than the sewer,” I say.

“That’s a low bar, siren.” Killian’s voice has that edge of amusement to it, but as we step inside, something in his posture changes.

The darkness inside the safe house feels wrong. Heavy. My men must feel it too because they all go still at once, like predators catching a scent.

Then I hear it—the soft sound of breathing that isn’t ours.

Someone else is here.

4

NICO

I didn’t expectthe gun I stole from that Dark Lotus guard to come in handy so soon after we made it out of the sewers, but here we are—and my finger is already nice and comfortable on the trigger when Killian hits the lights.

The best case scenario is that we’ve just startled an old squatter or someone who was just passing by and needed a roof over their head for a while. We can send him on his way, no harm, no foul.

Then I see who it is, and my jaw clenches as my finger curls a little closer to the trigger.

“Kendrick,” I growl. The former Prince-turned-Tyrant is backed up against the opposite wall like a deer caught in fucking headlights. “You picked a bad fucking time for a reunion.”

The big bastard looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him. He’s still built like a brick wall, still carrying himself like he’s ready to knock heads, and still—thank fuck—with reflexes slightly slower than mine.

I can’t let him leave. Not now that he’s seen us, and definitely not now that he’s seen Quinn bleeding through her clothes. The second he gets back to Zoey, she’ll know exactly where we are.And then we might as well paint a fucking target on the front door.

“What are you doing here?” Kendrick’s eyes flick down to my trigger finger and back again as he asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” My gun doesn’t waver. “I wasn’t sure anyone from the Princes of Carnage even remembered this place existed.” I catch the way his shoulders tense at that, and I flash him a bitter, humorless smile. “Sorry. The Twisted Tyrants. That’s what you’re calling yourselves these days, right?”

Seeing him here is a reminder of how much has changed, of how many brothers turned their backs on us. But at least the name fits—twisted is exactly what they became when they chose to follow Zoey.

Something flickers across Kendrick’s face. “No one from the Tyrants remembers this place. And they won’t find out about it, because I’m not a fucking Tyrant anymore.”

My finger eases off the trigger, but just barely. “What are you talking about?”

“I left.” He spits the words out. “I sure as hell wasn’t gonna stick around and watch that bitch Zoey run everything into the ground. Her and Stefan, acting like they know what brotherhood means when they’ve never lived it. They’ve never bled for it.”

I study his face, looking for even the smallest hint that he’s lying. A trap like this would be exactly Zoey’s style—to send someone we used to trust and get us to lower our guard. But there’s something raw in Kendrick’s voice that makes me think he hates Zoey and Stefan almost as much as we do.

“I had to go underground after I walked away,” he continues, his hands still raised. “You know how it works. Nobody leaves, not unless it’s in a body bag. I’ve been moving from place to place trying to stay off their radar. I remembered this old dump and figured it was my best bet.”

I want to believe him. Fuck, part of me already does. But blindly trusting someone who has already betrayed us once is the fastest way I know of to end up with a knife in my back.

“And we’re just supposed to trust that?” Atlas’s voice is cold behind me. “To take your word that you’re not still Zoey’s lapdog?”

Kendrick’s jaw tightens. “I’d rather eat a bullet than take orders from that snake again.”

The sound of Quinn’s boots scuffing against the floor catches my attention. Her legs have finally given out after everything she’s been through. She catches herself between Atlas and Killian, masking the moment of weakness by making it look like she’s just shifting her weight.

But the painful truth is etched on her face in the way she winces and in the way her face has gone paper-white. She’s tough as hell, but she needs help.

Now.

“Don’t fucking move,” I tell Kendrick. “Keep those hands where I can see them.”

He nods once, staying perfectly still. At least he’s smart enough not to test my patience—or my fucking loyalties. He’d lose either way.

“Atlas. Killian. Get her on the couch.” I don’t take my eyes off Kendrick as they move.

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