Page 93 of Princess of Vengeance

I’m sure we’re all thinking the same thing right now—imagining that bastard putting his hands on Quinn and forcing her into his bed. I need to change the subject before one of us snaps and does something stupid.

Then I remember the surprise we have in store for her.

“We have something that might take your mind off all this for a while,” I say.

Quinn looks up and flashes me a curious look. “You do?”

“Yep. Come on.” I jerk my head toward the back door. “We want to show you something.”

She follows us through the kitchen and out the back door of the house. The small yard is mostly dirt and gravel, surrounded by a chain-link fence, but what’s parked there makes it look like fucking paradise to me.

Four motorcycles are sitting there gleaming under the security light—three massive, powerful machines and one slightly smaller sport bike with custom teal accents that match Quinn’s hair.

Her eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Kendrick came through,” Nico explains, running his hand over the sleek black tank of his bike. “Called in some favors with an old connection through Carnage. We’re rebuilding, piece by piece.”

“And you got one for me,” she says, moving toward the teal motorcycle like she’s in a trance.

“It’s not your old one,” Killian says. “But it should handle similarly.”

Quinn circles the bike, her fingers trailing over the handlebars, the seat, the polished chrome. I can’t take my eyes off her face—the pure joy there makes my chest tighten in a way I can’t explain.

“You like it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

She turns to us, a wild grin spreading across her face. “I fucking love it. Can we ride?”

As excited as she is, there’s no way I could deny her anything in the fucking world if she asked for it. But that’s one of the reasons I’m not the leader here.

We turn to Nico, and I can tell he wants to give in too. Still, he hesitates. “It’s risky.”

“We’ve got helmets,” I point out, nodding to the gear hanging on hooks by the back door. “Full face, with visors. No one would recognize us.”

“And we can stay off the main roads,” Killian adds. “We should be able to avoid the traffic cameras that way.”

Quinn looks between us all, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Please?” she asks. “I need this.”

And fuck, how can any of us say no to that?

Five minutes later, we’re suited up and rolling out, taking the back alley that leads away from the main streets. Quinn rides like she was born to do it, her body seemingly fused to the bike beneath her. Between the confidence in her posture and the easy way she handles the machine, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop staring.

We wind our way through mostly empty industrial areas, heading out of the city and onto the back roads where the chances of being spotted are slim to none.

Beside me, Quinn opens the throttle and pulls ahead with a burst of speed. I grin inside my helmet and chase after her, with Nico and Killian close behind. For a few precious minutes, there’s nothing but the four of us, the open road, and the kind of freedom we haven’t felt in a long fucking time.

The farther we get from the city, the more a crazy idea takes hold in my mind. What if we just kept going? What if we rode straight through the night, crossed state lines, and disappeared somewhere Malcolm and his goons would never find us?

Part of me—the part that’s tired of being separated—wants to suggest it. To convince Quinn to run away with us, no matter what the fucking consequences might be.

But I know she’d never go for it. I don’t call her vicious for being a runner. She’s a fucking fighter, and she always will be. I know in my gut that she’s going to stay and face this head-on, take Malcolm down, and reclaim her life on her terms.

And goddamn if that doesn’t make me love her even more.

I glance over at her as we cruise side by side down an empty stretch of road. Even with her face hidden behind the helmet’s visor, I can sense her happiness and determination.

The sight of her on that bike, powerful and in control, sends a jolt of heat straight through my veins. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want her—not just physically, but all of her. Her strength, her fire, her courage in the face of impossible odds.

I guide my bike closer to hers, until we’re riding nearly handlebar to handlebar. She turns her head slightly toward me, and I reach out, letting my hand rest briefly on her thigh.

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