It wasn't about Skye at all: it was about Coulson. It might have been May or Ward or that ridiculous British duo if they had stumbled into his mansion. But the Clairvoyent wanted Skye dead, and Quinn had no qualms about obeying. He generally kept emotions from affecting business transactions, but it would be a bonus to eliminate someone so ridiculously naive and inconvenient.
Even when Coulson crashed through the front door, Quinn didn't even attempting to escape.
"Where's Skye?"
"You know what, Agent Coulson, it's dangerous to keep sending her in like that, all alone. She means so much to you."
Cold metal smashed against his cheek. Pain, yes, but bearable. A few bruises, maybe blood, but it would heal. Unlike the girl.