Page 40 of Monsters Carve Thrones (Crowned Monsters Duet #2)

“I will be.” I stepped over the last man, steadying my breath.

Now, there wouldn’t be as much security for my most special target.

I moved silently through the hall like a shadow.

I already knew he’d be in his office with the others.

Where he had spanked me in front of his partners.

He had tried to embarrass me, but really, all he did was piss me off even more and solidify the death warrants of all of them.

Gunfire cracked through the walls like fireworks from hell, shaking dust loose from the chandelier above.

“What the fuck–” I muttered, crouching, eyes wide.

Screams echoed down the marble hallway, Waylon’s empire crumbling in real-time, just like I’d prayed for in the dark.

I heard a sudden yelp, and my gaze snagged on her.

Riley . She was ducked low behind a tipped-over table, trembling like a fucking coward.

Her perfectly straightened hair was a mess, and her designer blouse was torn at the sleeve.

Pathetic . She looked nothing like the smug bitch who used to tighten my restraints or whisper orders to the guards while I cried.

She was trying to crawl away unnoticed, but I was already stalking toward her.

I snatched her by the collar, yanking her up with a strength that came from somewhere feral inside me.

She gasped, scratched, and tried to dig her heels into the floor, but I dragged her down the hallway like the trash she was and kicked open the door to a guest room.

“Let go of me!” she shrieked.

The door slammed shut behind us. The sounds of war faded into a muffled hum.

I threw her to the ground.

“Please, Adela–” she whimpered, holding up her hands. “It wasn’t personal, I was just following–”

“Oh, save it ,” I spat. “ Following orders? That’s what they all say before they meet the devil. Following orders has never excused anything. Remember the Nuremberg Trials?”

She swallowed hard.

I snorted. “Of course, you’re stupid, too. An uneducated bitch who thinks she’s all that. Newsflash, sweetie, you’re not that pretty, either. So I guess it’s fitting that you ended up being Waylon’s bitch.”

“Better than his whore ,” she spat.

I smiled. And it was with the heat of a million fucking suns.

She tried to crawl backward, but I was already on her, straddling her chest with my knees, pinning her arms down. Her face twisted in panic. That felt good. Not enough yet, but good.

“You remember the collar?” I hissed. “The one with the embedded lock you used to tighten when I disobeyed? ”

She shook her head frantically. “I–I didn’t know what he’d do to me if I didn’t–”

“Oh, but you loved it .” I leaned down until our noses almost touched. “You liked pretending you had power. You liked hurting me, even if you had to do it through whispers and buttons. That was the only way a bitch like you could feel big.”

Her breath came in short, useless gasps. “I was just trying to survive.”

I smiled. It was cruel, real, and full of teeth. “So am I.” I reached behind me and unsheathed the knife. Her eyes widened when the blade flashed between us. “Say something clever,” I told her. “Come on. This is your big moment, snarky pants. ”

She whimpered. Disappointing.

I didn’t hesitate. I shoved the knife straight into her throat. She choked and gagged on her own blood, her limbs flailing weakly as the light started to drain from her eyes.

I leaned in close, my voice a whisper only the dying get to hear. “This is for every time you laughed while I cried. For the poor woman who wore these clothes before me. For all of the people you helped that monster hurt.”

I pulled the blade out slowly.

“ Fuck you, Riley. ”

Then I stood and wiped her blood across my thigh. The door creaked behind me as I stepped out of the room, my hands now stained with six people’s blood.

I moved through the hallway with purpose, my steps silent despite the hammering in my chest. The house was in chaos. I didn’t know what was happening, but it was glorious timing.

I turned the corner and stopped dead.

Derek and Jason.

The two fuckers who’d been there the night I was first taken. The ones who grabbed me. Held me down. Laughed when they jerked off on my thighs in the shower. They froze when they saw me.

Their eyes snapped to the blood coating me.

“Fuck,” Derek hissed, raising his gun.

Too slow.

I dove forward, grabbing the dagger I’d used to kill Riley, and slashed upward, slicing across Jason’s throat in one clean, furious motion.

Blood sprayed.

Derek lunged at me from behind, but I twisted, letting the momentum carry me down and to the side. His arm flew over my head, and I drove the blade into his thigh.

He roared.

I didn’t stop.

I drove it again into his stomach, twisting as he fell backward, gasping, his hands scrabbling at mine like he thought he could stop me.

“There you go,” I hissed.

His mouth opened, blood bubbling at the corners.

“I remember you , Derek. And what you did. I didn’t forget your ugly face.”

I leaned in close, twisting the blade again, slow.

“You’re going to die as a little bitch who wouldn’t even fuck a hot woman because he feared his master . Remember how bad you wanted me?” I laughed hysterically before leaning in close. “What a goddamn waste .”

His eyes rolled back. He collapsed.

I stood over their bodies, blood staining the dagger, my wrists, my thighs.

I didn’t feel fear.

I felt clear .

The woman who’d been taken–she was gone. I was coating these walls in their fucking blood, even if I died on my way out.

The hallway felt like it stretched for miles.

Every creak in the floor and every flickering shadow set my nerves on fire.

I could feel the tension tightening like wire in my chest. I had a gun in one hand, a knife tucked into the waistband of my sweatpants, and blood still drying under my fingernails. Then–

Voices.

Raised. Angry. A sudden shout. My heart jumped into my throat. They’d found the bodies. I squeezed my eyes shut. God. Sure, I had weapons now. But there were still at least ten men in this house. One of them being Waylon.

I glanced behind me. Olesya had ducked into the small library, just like I told her to after I finished the guards. She had done her part. She’d risked everything. Now, the rest was on me.

I crept toward the edge of the hallway, ears straining. I could hear the front door slam open. Then, heavy and urgent footsteps. They were shouting over each other, filing out the door in a hurry.

What the hell?

Confused, I turned toward Waylon’s office and found it empty. Papers were scattered, and there was glass shattered on the floor. I took a step back–

And he was there.

Right behind me.

Before I could react, his hand slammed into my shoulder, spinning me around.

His face was red with fury, eyes gleaming with betrayal.

“You little bitch .” The blow came fast. A hard crack across my face that sent me stumbling into the wall.

My gun slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor. “ You killed my men! ” he roared.

I turned just as he rushed me. He tackled me into a side table, splintering it. I clawed and kicked, my elbow catching him in the jaw. He growled and shoved me back into the wall.

“I’ll make you regret this,” he spat. “I’ll make you fucking suffer. This time, the housekeeper won’t be there to bring you back from the fucking dead!”

I drove my knee up into his ribs. He grunted and staggered. I dove for the gun, but he kicked it away. My fingers found a shard of glass instead, and I raked it across his arm.

Blood burst from the wound. He screamed, slapping the glass from my hand, but I didn’t stop. I punched, bit, and clawed. I did anything to keep him off me.

He slammed me into the ground. Stars burst behind my eyes from the impact, and breath whooshed out of my lungs. I rolled, grabbed a fallen lamp, and cracked it across his skull.

He groaned and slumped back just as I heard voices approaching. Fuck .

I didn’t wait. I ran.

My legs carried me on pure instinct. I tore down the hall, blood dripping from my face, arms aching, ribs screaming with every breath.

I didn’t look back–I didn’t have to. I could feel Waylon behind me, dragging himself up, snarling like a wounded animal.

But I was faster. I had to be. I rounded a corner and stopped dead.

Shit.

Three guards stood at the other end of the hallway, guns raised, eyes going wide with recognition.

“There she is!” one barked. Gunfire exploded, splitting my ears. I ducked, heart lurching, as bullets shredded the wall behind me. I turned and sprinted blindly down an unfamiliar corridor, adrenaline pounding through me.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I just needed to move. I turned left, then right, slamming shoulder-first into a heavy steel door that creaked open under my weight. I stumbled inside and froze.

No.

The room was cold and gray. Bare walls. Chains bolted to the floor. The place they threw me when I first arrived. The fucking cell.

I spun to leave and came face to face with two guards, guns drawn, faces twisted in fury and something far worse.

“Well, well,” one of them sneered. “Cornered, are we?”

“Put the gun down,” the other growled, stepping inside. “Now.”

I didn’t lower it. I couldn’t. Not when I was so goddamn close. My hands were shaking so hard that I thought I might drop it, but I kept it aimed and kept my finger ready. My heart hammered against my ribs painfully.

“We could lock the door…” one said, his greedy eyes sweeping over me.

But the taller one glanced toward the hall. “We don’t have time for this shit. There’s a raid–”

“What?” I blurted, confused.

They ignored me. The shorter one smirked, licking his lips. “We’ll tell Waylon you didn’t cooperate. That we didn’t have a choice.” The way they looked at me made bile rise in my throat.

No. No.

I spat at their feet. “I’d rather fucking die.”