Quinn
She couldn't sleep.
No one here could be trusted. She'd forgotten that, had allowed herself to see the good in people like a fucking idiot. But that didn't mean she couldn't feel Elysian radiating through the bond, burning with wrongness. He felt wronged. And perhaps it was true that she'd settled the weight of the world upon his shoulders. But he was King. They were kings; they rose to power; and they wanted this responsibility.
It had been their choice.
Their crazy solution could not continue. Quinn was determined to prove them wrong, to protect those lives. Quinn was determined to do something with her fists clenched. And maybe she was stubborn, maybe she couldn't understand. But Gods, the situation tasted tribal and inched towards something almost cult-like. Her brows furrowed at that. They were starting to pin their mistakes on the world. And it was as if their wrongdoings could be pardoned because it was fate.
Fate.
She wanted to laugh at that.
Was it fate that had Quinn sinking into this fucked up world? Was it the divine that wanted her here? In a world that was supposed to be so much more technologically advanced, cannibalism should never have been an option. And yet a couple of nukes, a disease or two and they'd regressed so far, they were stumbling into the arms of fear. No deity would help those who couldn't help themselves.
And all large-scale cruelty was fuelled by fear-based devotion.
It was not a deity that allowed them to cull the weakest link for their survival, to ask for a sacrifice as the chosen one. It was their fucking selfish agendas, their cruelty, their malice, their hatred. It was their prejudice, their biases, and their fear of the unknown. They pointed fingers towards the marginalised and sank their teeth into a weaker flesh. They were the ones with blood on their hands. Quinn had nothing against sweet hope, and she understood that there could be harsh truths. But to succumb to it? To accept the situation? To accept murder?
She'd been furious that night, pacing for ages, fists slammed against wood. Have they not learnt anything from their wars? Have they not learnt anything from history? Did they not understand the idiocy of their actions?
There were no Gods here yearning for the blood of sacrifice.
Only humans.
The rage grew in her, heavy, angry, almost violent. Float pulled up, her fingers reaching to swipe through the screens. Fucking idiots. But she'd succeed in the wastelands with Search. She'd find a fresh body that had feasted on a Heart. And then? Her hands swayed going through the system, searching, reading, learning.
She'd find a reason.
She'd find a cure.
*
The wastelands were almost a desert in parts. A desert of blowing dust and dunes, arid vegetation of dry wilderness and barren rock. Without the boys trailing after her, she'd have used Float to purchase a new, well-fitted bike. She would have pulled out weapons and devices; she would have exploited her skills. But for now, she settled for the shit they offered her – old equipment, rusting from wear and tear, puffing with smoke, and a team of twenty to 'protect' her, with a collar clamped around her neck to track her down.
No Search.
No Float.
She'd have to figure out a way to shake them all off.
She'd been assigned a scout team from Hemlock, no women, just men. And Quinn found herself wondering what had happened to the women that she once knew. Were they still working in the kitchens, or had they all been enslaved into packs? The thought of that disturbed her, and concern bloomed even for the girls that had bullied her, tried to trample on her spirit.
Quinn prayed that they were alive.
Hyon, the captain of Hemlock was there as always, looking a thousand times more haggard and thinner than usual, all unkept and gaunt. His eyes shimmering bloodshot red, lips bitten raw. His hair pulled into a tight oily bun, unshaven and beard dirtied with flecks of brown crust. There was a smile on his face when he greeted Zen, hands clapped to his back. Xin's name scattered on the tip of her tongue, but he paid her no heed, turning without a greeting to her. Clearly, he'd heard some things, rumours in the wind. The other soldiers strayed far, giving them a wider berth.
They didn't like her.
She must be ruining their plans.
She turned her gaze to her captors. The men that would accompany her for her expedition were Zen, Rowan and Helios. She'd protested to that, had preferred the company of strangers to the people she didn't trust. The people that had wronged her more than once. She didn't want them tugging on her heart, ruining her chances.
She didn't want her soulmate meddling with her decisions.
"A small team is the best," she'd stated to Klaus. He'd called her to his office for a meeting that day, and she was grateful that she didn't have to see Elysian. "Too many would spook the Lonely. I'm searching for a rare beast, I don't need an army, I don't need royalty. They're going to be baggage. And I need to be fast if we want results, I can't have an army babysitting their Kings—"
"All three of my mates are a part of our search team. They know the wastelands and the Lonely as well as you do. And we're not letting you out of our sight," Klaus had answered, his eyes were darker that day, unreadable, as cold as always. And he broadly towered over her smaller frame, consuming the space with the burn of his irritation. "This or nothing."
"But—"
"No exceptions," his voice was gruff, tension stony in the pulse of his handsome jaw. There was exhaustion on him now, curved under his eyes. A strange rawness in his tone. He didn't seem so strong for a second, an odd weakness flecked in his eyes, a tremble in his fingers. Where was the man who had debated with her? Where was the man that quivered under her kisses? The memory disappeared as quickly as it came, along with a rush of something that tasted like detest. "It is for your own benefit."
She paused, then understood quickly with a grim smile that they'd now deemed her a flight risk. That this wasn't just a pack looking out for her. This was a pack that feared she might choose to run instead. And truly despite her heroism, running was not out of her plans.
She would run if she had to.
But they'd picked the best from their lovers, had chosen the wolf, the bird and the weapon. Rowan would be able to sniff her out. Helios could catch her if she ran too far. And Zen was a war machine that would save her from the Lonely if necessary. Quinn's eyes narrowed. She understood his choices very well.
He picked the boys that could catch her.
"What about Rowan's Heat?" Quinn pointed out angrily.
Rowan's voice echoed then, stepping forward into the light. The wolf's eyes glittered a gorgeous clementine. "It's done." A smile, too gentle, too soft. "Besides, only you can make me cum." The words escaped him more like a deadpan, more of a note of fact than a dirty line to flirt. But her snort was soft, exhaled lightly with incredulity.
"Are you sure you even need me?" Her words were laced with poison. He went silent, gaze smouldering into her being. She ignored the other two. Helios stood straighter and more rigid than usual, almost frozen with tension wrecking through his muscles. And Zen seemed to wilt into his corner, driving himself into the shadows. They did not speak.
"I need you enough to follow you to hell," Rowan answered, thumb flicked at his nose. He was nervous. "Enough to want to protect you with my life." Bullshit. Quinn snapped her lips shut before she could snap out a remark that would surely enrage them all. Instead, she turned to Klaus with a glare.
"Fine," her gaze slid to Rowan then, a sneer. "Do whatever the fuck you want." She didn't give a damn about the pleasantries. Her respect for them had pummelled to zero. And they were going to have to face her attitude. They didn't comment on it, oddly docile.
And then they were suited up and travelling by air through the wastelands.