Quinn was certain that even if she didn't call back, it wouldn't be long before Tyrone buzzed her phone again.
Sure enough, a short while later, Tyrone's call came through.
Quinn waited a good fifteen seconds before answering, and her first words were a blunt, "What's up?"
"What have you been up to?"
Even though it was a mild June night in Emberbrook, Quinn could feel the chill in Tyrone's voice through the phone.
Quinn smirked, "What do you think? At this hour, I'm obviously out starting trouble or lighting bonfires."
With that response, Tyrone felt a wave of certainty that Quinn wasn't out with another guy; she was off plotting her revenge once again.
Sometimes Tyrone felt an overwhelming urge to pull Quinn back from the edge. The recklessness she exhibited often terrified and yet strangely excited him.
Initially, he'd found her ruthless vengeance thrilling.
But now, he wanted her to stop more than anything.
"Quit it, Quinn. Don't go it alone. I'll take down the Young Group for you. Just step back," Tyrone said.
Quinn paused mid-step, suddenly finding it ludicrous for a man to have the notion of offering revenge on her behalf.
She lifted her head defiantly, with a cold laugh escaping her lips, "But there's no turning back for me now. My hands haven't been clean for a long time."
Tyrone felt a surge of panic. It always seemed like he couldn't quite hold onto Quinn, and that she might slip away at any moment.
"Quinn," Tyrone said sternly, "I've told you before, I can give you anything you want."
Walking against the night breeze on the main street, Quinn countered, "I'll take what I want myself."
How could she let someone else fight those battles of her vendetta and her mother's vendetta?
Some things had to be done personally, no matter the outcome, no matter if it dragged her down too. She just wanted the Young family—gone.
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