Page 36 of Monsters Carve Thrones (Crowned Monsters Duet #2)

I couldn’t even find words to say as his hands wrapped around my windpipe.

Tight .

“You’d rather die than lose him, is that it?” He lifted and slammed me back down. “I’m going to have her film his death. I’m going to force you to watch. ”

Tighter .

Everything vanished. I couldn’t breathe. The world flickered. Darkness crept in from the edges as I clawed at his wrists, legs kicking out weakly. But nothing I did could stop him. He was so angry. Panic surged through me like wildfire. I saw spots. My ears rang.

And then…

Nothing .

A sharp sting brought me back. Slap. Again.

My eyes flew open, terror roaring through me. “Olesya,” I choked. She was kneeling beside me, face pale, her hand trembling where it hovered above my cheek. I gasped, lungs sputtering as air returned. My throat ached. The taste of copper filled my mouth.

“She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive.” Her voice was shaking. I blinked at her, struggling to stay upright.

And then I saw Waylon standing near the window. Shirtless, tattoos shadowed in the low light. He was smoking, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched like stone. He didn’t look at me.

He knew what he’d done. He just didn’t care.

I glanced down, truly taking in all of the bruises that peppered my legs, hips, and stomach. And now, my throat. It ached just to swallow.

He…he almost killed me.

Olesya looked at him, then back at me and down to the evidence of what he’d just done. And I saw it.

The fear.

The decision.

The moment she realized she couldn’t keep watching this happen. That it wouldn’t stop unless someone stopped it. Her answer was in her eyes.

Yes.

***

The water was scalding hot, just how I liked it. I needed it to burn. To sear away the feel of his hands, the echo of his voice still rasping in my ears. The bruises along my neck throbbed with the pulse of blood returning to oxygen-starved veins.

A guard stood outside the bathroom door, watching the hallway.

I stared at the steam curling upward, the tile slick beneath my feet, and let the heat sting my eyes. Not from tears. Not anymore.

A soft knock broke through the hiss of water. Then, a familiar voice. “Just checking on her injuries,” Olesya said calmly.

The guard grunted. “Don’t take too long.”

The door creaked open and closed again. The second I saw her face, I knew.

She moved quickly, efficiently, her hands folding a towel like it mattered. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

My throat ached, but I nodded. “Fine.”

Her fingers grazed the edge of the counter where my clothes sat. Slipped something under a rolled pair of socks.

I kept my expression blank.

She glanced at the door. The water helped disguise our voices, but we couldn’t risk much. I grabbed the towel and wrapped it around myself. My fingers closed over the paper without looking. I stepped closer, like I was leaning in to whisper. Her eyes met mine, wide and determined.

I read the note under the veil of steam and trembling hands:

What’s the plan?

I looked up at her, nodding just once.

She waited, breath still. Her eyes shone with something that made my throat tighten.

I mouthed, I’ll tell you later.

She gave a tiny, imperceptible nod. Her hand reached up like she was checking my face for swelling, but her thumb brushed my cheek in something tender.

Almost maternal. It nearly shattered me.

“You’ll be alright,” she murmured, more for herself than me.

Then louder, to the door, “No need for a doctor. I’ll let Mr. Waylon know. ”

She turned and left.

I waited until I heard the click of the door behind her and the soft stomp of her boots receding. Alone again, but not really. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t entirely alone.

I stepped out of the shower and faced the fogged mirror. I wiped a hand across the glass and saw myself. Purple bruises bloomed across my neck and collarbone like wilted flowers. A faint cut on my lip. Hollow eyes.

But beneath it all… there was a simmering blaze.

I stared at my reflection, eyes flicking down to the sharp corner of the mirror where the edge had started to crack. I could break it. Take a shard. Hide it.

I could kill the guard.

But… I’d never make it far. The others would swarm before I could even breathe in my freedom.

***

The next morning, I heard the door open quieter than usual. The house felt still, like it also feared the demon that stalked its halls.

Olesya’s figure slipped in carefully. She didn’t even glance at the guard who had been posted outside earlier. They never paid her much attention. She was invisible to them–just a housekeeper. Nothing to worry about.

But today, she was everything.

She moved straight to the bed, where I was sitting cross-legged in one of Waylon’s oversized T-shirts, the bruises on my thighs aching with every shift of my weight.

My wrists, still sore from the cuffs, rested gently in my lap.

He’d allowed them a little break this morning when he realized they were bleeding.

“He’s gone?” I whispered.

She nodded. “Left an hour ago. Meeting. Guards are all down at the perimeter today.”

Perfect.

I leaned in, voice low, words trembling with urgency. “This is going to take some trust.”

Her lips tightened, but she nodded slowly. “Go on.”

I reached under the mattress and pulled out the pen I’d hidden. “This,” I whispered, holding it between two fingers, “isn’t much. But I’m confident I can sink it into a guard’s neck if I surprise him.”

She inhaled sharply but didn’t protest. Just stared at the object like it might burst into flames.

“I’m fast,” I continued. “I’ve been watching. Timing their routines. But I’ll need help. Distraction. Delay. Something. Just a few seconds to give me the edge.”

Olesya looked toward the window as if she were calculating every risk. “That could get us both killed, girl.”

“I know.”

“But so could staying here.”

“I know that, too.”

A moment passed between us, heavy with both shared dread and courage.

“When?” she asked finally.

“Next week,” I said. “Waylon has those business meetings, right? Ones that pull more security to the estate perimeter?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Two meetings back-to-back. On Thursday and Friday.”

“Then that’s it.” My voice felt stronger. “Friday. Send one guard in at a time. Quietly. I’ll kill each of them and take their guns.”

She hesitated. “You little thing against a guard?”

“I can do it, Olesya,” I murmured. “I was trained by the best.”

“Alright.” She nodded. “I can do that.”

I let out a slow breath, the pen still clutched tightly in my hand. “We get one shot, Olesya. Just one.”

“I understand.” Her voice was quiet but firm. Then her eyes flicked to mine. “You really think you can kill him?”

I nodded. “After what he’s done to me?” I grinned, feeling a sick, wild rage flare to life. “Oh, yes.”

She gave a slight smile before slipping back out of the room. I blew out a breath as if I had been holding it. I could kill Waylon. If I did that, I could run. I could find Rafe. Or maybe I’d die trying. Either way...I’d finally be free.