Page 30 of Monsters Carve Thrones (Crowned Monsters Duet #2)

I gave a soft, dry laugh. “Comfort’s a dangerous thing, I guess.”

She glanced at the door, then leaned slightly closer as she smoothed the pillow. “There’s hot tea on the tray,” she said quickly, eyes still on the bed. “Not drugged. I made it.”

My stomach turned, and I suddenly wanted to cry. “You don’t have to–”

“I didn’t say I had to,” she cut in, barely above a whisper. “I said I made it.”

Our eyes met. “I’m Adela,” I said quietly.

“My name is Olesya.” She blinked twice. I knew that look. Recognition. Sympathy carefully hidden behind years of her own survival. I imagined she was a slave here just as I was, except she was his housekeeper and I was his whore.

She tucked the last corner, then straightened the tray on the nightstand.

A porcelain cup steamed faintly beside a cracked saucer and a tiny spoon.

“I’ve returned from another one of his properties.

Now, I will come in the mornings and evenings,” she said under her breath.

“Usually alone. You’ll know when it’s safe to talk. ”

I nodded once, heart pounding. “Thank you.” Her gaze flicked to the cuffs on the floor. Her jaw tightened.

Olesya grabbed her linens and turned toward the door. Before she stepped out, she glanced back at me, eyes heavy. “Don’t lose your fire,” she said. “You’re going to need it to burn this fucking place down.”

Then she was gone, the door clicking shut. I stared at the tea, then slowly reached for it. My eyes stung with tears immediately when I realized that it smelled like jasmine and honey. And for the first time in weeks, I took a sip of something warm that hadn’t been forced on me.

***

RAFE

The wallpaper was starting to peel in the corner. I couldn’t stop staring at it. Gold leaf curling like burnt paper, mocking me with how easily everything fell apart. Everything.

My heart was beating too fast. My fucking hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I pressed the heel of my palm to my eye socket. Hard. The Oxy was dulling some of the sharper edges, but not enough. Not the ones inside. My skull still felt like it was full of glass.

Nico paced near the window, phone clutched in his hand like it had answers he couldn’t find. “I’m looking at two properties in Montenegro, both with ties to Waylon’s old suppliers. One’s coastal. The other–”

“–If we even fucking find her,” I growled, my voice hoarse and ragged, “she might be so destroyed I won’t know how to help her.”

Silence.

I stood. The room swayed.

“This is an evil fucking world we live in. Do you get that, Nico? This isn’t a movie.

There’s no goddamn clean rescue. These men are monsters beyond belief.

Brutal. And he’s hurting her.” My voice cracked.

I pointed a shaking finger at nothing. “He’s hurting her , Nico.

Right fucking now. And what if she never comes back from it? What if I find her and it’s too late?”

Nico’s jaw locked, but he didn’t say a word.

Laura stepped in from the hallway. She looked pale, but her voice didn’t waver. “I know her better than any of you. And I’m telling you, Adela Sinclair can survive anything .”

I snapped. “No, you think she can!” I shouted, spinning toward her. “You think she’s invincible because she acts like it. But none of us know what he’s doing to her. And I can’t fucking take it!”

My fist collided with the mirror before I could stop myself. The glass exploded. Shards rained down, catching light, catching blood.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe!” Nico barked.

Blood dripped from my hand. I barely felt it. “Just give them the black card,” I said through clenched teeth, panting. “I don’t give a shit. Let them charge fifty grand for the damage. I’ll buy the whole fucking hotel if it means I don’t have to feel this.”

I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. My mind was on fire. All I saw was her, tied down, bleeding, and crying. I didn’t even know what image was real anymore. All I knew was that I was too late. My imagination was my worst fucking nightmare.

“She is the only fucking woman I have ever loved!” I roared, throwing a chair back against the wall. It splintered. “No one has ever made me feel what she has. No one! She is the only goddamn thing that matters to me, and she’s in the hands of that fucking monster! ”

My body was on overdrive. The drugs pulsing like lightning through my bloodstream. My vision was vibrating.

Kieran jumped in then, arms like iron around me, steadying me, anchoring me. “Hey. Hey, Rafe–look at me. Breathe. You have to come down, brother. You have to .”

I tried. I really fucking tried.

But then my knees gave out and I hit the couch hard, shoulders shaking.

I broke.

The tears came fast. Ugly. Violent. Gasping sobs.

Laura was there in seconds, pressing paper towels to my bleeding knuckles. She didn’t say anything. Just cried with me.

Nico sank into a chair across from me, hands clasped between his knees. Quiet. Present.

I looked up through blurry eyes at Kieran. My voice came out in a whisper that sounded like it belonged to someone else. “If she dies… will you kill me?”

Kieran froze.

His face twisted, horrified. “Rafe. Don’t–”

“I mean it.” I looked at him, dead in the eyes. “Would you? Would you put a bullet in my head? Because I don’t want this life without her.”

“Don’t ask me that,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll do it myself.”

Laura inhaled sharply. Nico reached out and held her hand. And Kieran just looked at me like I’d ripped his heart out with my bare hands. But none of them stopped me from saying it.

Because they all knew I meant it.

I had to get my shit together to head out, but it was so goddamn hard.

***

The snow fell thicker by the time we made it to the Vasileostrovsky District. It clung to the windshield in fat, wet flakes, and I watched it slide down like ash from the sky. My soul had bled out after crying so much the past few days.

The car was silent.

Laura drove. Kieran sat beside her, flipping through the fake IDs we’d prepared for this leg of the hunt.

Nico and I sat in the back, weapons pressed to our thighs beneath long coats.

The hotel we were heading to was upscale–opulent enough to attract international traffickers, but discreet enough not to ask questions.

I hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours. The burn behind my eyes was brutal, and my body ached like I’d been in a brawl. The drugs helped... until they didn’t. Until the high wore off and I was just a husk of rage and desperation, barely held together by the promise of Adela.

She was the only fucking reason I was breathing.

We pulled up to the front of a fancier hotel in the city. A place that looked like a palace, dressed in velvet and steel. Gilded windows. Marble steps. A doorman who didn’t flinch when I stepped out with dead eyes and a black coat heavy with violence.

“Act like we belong here,” Laura said under her breath as she handed our IDs over to the concierge. “Corporate security team. We’re scouting the venue for an upcoming gala. Keep it clean unless you get a name.”

“Fuck clean,” I muttered, scanning the gold-lit lobby. “She’s either here or she’s not. I’m not wasting another night waiting.”

“Rafe–”

“I said what I said.”

The concierge bought the lie easily. We were escorted up to the sixth floor under the guise of a guided tour. Nico kept his mouth shut. Kieran did the talking. Laura smiled politely, and I trailed behind them all, itching for an excuse to put a bullet in someone’s head.

Sixth floor. East wing. The doors were glossy walnut, numbers engraved in gold.

“Rooms 614 and 616 were recently extended stays,” the concierge noted. “One of them was paid in full with crypto. No ID listed.”

My pulse quickened. I looked at Laura. She gave the slightest nod.

“We’ll take a peek for security risk assessments,” she said sweetly, pulling the keycard from the man’s gloved hand. “You can wait in the elevator.”

Smart.

When the door clicked shut behind us, Kieran pulled a silencer from his coat and checked the corners. Nico slipped on gloves.

I moved straight for Room 616. I didn’t even need to knock, because the door opened with a mechanical click.

Empty, but not untouched.

Perfume lingered in the air. It was sharp and floral, definitely a scent I didn’t recognize. There was a half-drunk glass of red wine on the desk. Cigarette butts crushed into a crystal tray.

More importantly: documents.

Laura was already rifling through the desk drawer. “Russian bank receipts. Offshore transfers. Routes. This looks like a transport manifest–shit. Rafe, this is Waylon’s pipeline. They’ve been moving shipments through Finland. Their partnership is still very active.”

“Does it say where they’re keeping them?” I asked.

“Not directly, but–”

Footsteps suddenly sounded from the hall. I raised a hand, and everyone froze. Luckily, the sound passed. Not security. Just another guest.

I exhaled slowly, but my rage didn’t. “I want her,” I said through gritted teeth. “Waleria. I don’t care what it takes.”

“We’re closing in,” Nico said. “She’s nearby. She just hasn’t slipped up yet.”

“She will.” My eyes narrowed at the glass of wine. I swirled the dregs and watched it stain the sides like blood. “I think I have a plan.”

“Okay, great. If it works, then what?” Kieran asked.

“Then I obviously kill the bitch.”

***

Saint Petersburg burned in gold and gray as night fell over the city. We stood in the cold behind a closed-down jazz bar near the river, waiting.

Waleria’s driver was supposed to meet our contact here.

He had something for her–something we’d staged, some fabricated documents we knew would be bait if she caught wind.

Word was, she was looking to tighten her routes.

The manifest we’d found in her hotel room helped us dangle just enough of a lure.

Nico leaned against a dumpster, flipping a knife between his fingers.

“This feels too easy,” Kieran muttered.

“It’s supposed to,” Laura said. She was scanning the street, her hand on the grip of her pistol tucked under her coat. “Waleria likes control. She wouldn’t send just anyone unless she was sure.”

“She doesn’t know we’re here,” I said. I wanted to believe that, but she was known for her intelligence.

The wind bit through my hoodie, but I barely felt it anymore. My body ran on fumes and pills–whatever cocktail I threw into my bloodstream just to stay moving. I hadn’t slept in days and hadn’t spoken to anyone without barking. My fingers twitched. The drugs were wearing off.

I needed more.

A black, sleek car finally pulled up, idling like a predator.

“This is it,” Laura said.

We moved as one, surrounding it as the driver stepped out, hands visible.

“Don’t shoot,” he said in Russian. “I’m just here for the pickup.”

I nodded at Kieran. He patted him down. No weapons.

The driver popped the trunk. “It’s in there.”

I stepped forward.

Laura grabbed my arm. “Wait,” she said.

But I was already leaning in. I saw the blinking red light just as the gas hissed out.

Chloroform .

“Fuck–!” I tried to shout, backing away, but the second wave hit harder, from the side.

A canister rolled out near Nico’s feet. It exploded with white mist.

“MOVE!” Kieran shouted, coughing, firing blind toward the car. I heard one shot, then another.

Then nothing.

Everything spun. My vision blurred. I staggered, disoriented, trying to reach Laura–

She was already falling.

The last thing I saw before I blacked out was a woman stepping out of the second car.

Blonde. Expensive fur coat. Unbothered expression.

Waleria .

She looked down at me like I was a wounded animal. Then smiled. “Too fucking easy,” she whispered.

Darkness swallowed me.