Page 55 of Monsters Carve Thrones (Crowned Monsters Duet #2)

Rafe roared into the crowd like a storm god, a knife in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other. He moved with surgical wrath, dropping one man to the next.

Someone moved at the corner of my eye, and I whirled to see a man running away. I lunged, slamming the butt of my gun into the back of his head. He dropped with a loud thud , twitching. I fired once into his skull for good measure.

They had nowhere to go.

Smoke hissed through the vents. A slow mist at first. Then thicker. Nico had timed the ignition systems perfectly– enough oxygen to finish the job, but just enough pressure to keep them panicked.

“Squads in position,” Kieran reported.

I watched one of the men claw at the back door.

Laura spun him around and shot him point-blank in the face. “Like flies in a fucking jar,” she laughed. I knew she was having the time of her life, as she struggled a lot with what happened to me. She wanted nothing more than to kill the assholes who looked the other way while I was being hurt.

I spotted one of the bastards who laughed after Waylon “ punished me. ”

I didn’t shoot him.

I ran at him.

He turned just in time to catch the weight of my fury.

I tackled him to the floor, straddled his chest, and brought the butt of my gun down again and again until his nose shattered.

Until blood soaked my sleeves. Until I saw nothing but red and heard nothing but my own breath–fast, hard, and alive .

Strong hands pulled me off.

Rafe .

He turned me into his chest for a second. Just a second. Enough to say: I’ve got you, little doe. Then he let me go with a wicked smirk because there were still more to kill.

Nico was laughing somewhere over the screams. Kieran was cursing in Serbian, always a good sign. Laura tossed me another clip as I stepped over a dying man, his gold cufflinks smeared with blood.

“Eight minutes,” Rafe called. “Fire will reach this floor in eight.”

That’s when I saw the last one standing.

Tomas Parvy.

The fucker who enjoyed my slavery with Varga. He stood at the far wall, trembling, gun at his side. His blazer was torn, and he was coated in sweat.

“You,” I said, stepping over a body, blood dripping from my boots. I raised the gun and pointed it right at him. “I can’t wait to watch the life leave your fucking eyes.”

He dropped to his knees, hands up. “Please, Adela. You don’t have to–”

I shot him in the mouth. “I do. ”

And with that, it was done.

Rafe fired one last shot into the ceiling. “We’re clear,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Time to go.”

We made our way toward the entrance, stepping over the bodies as we went. All twenty-two of them were dead. I took one last look back, memorizing the scene. They looked so small now, lying in puddles of their own blood. I should’ve felt horror. Or guilt. Or something like peace.

But I only felt alive.

“Light it,” I said.

Kieran hit the detonator.

The building ignited like it had been waiting to burn. Fire swallowed the room behind us as we climbed into the black SUV–Nico up front beside Kieran, Laura sliding in beside me, Rafe already pulling me close, his hand fisting the bloodied fabric of my suit.

The city didn’t know what had happened yet, but it would soon. Twenty-two very influential men are dead, their bodies burning to ash. This was a scandal that would make worldwide headlines.

Sirens howled behind us as we sped through the dark, flashing lights slicing past us in bursts of blue and red. My heart pounded in rhythm with them.

I felt so goddamn high.

Laura rested her head against the cool glass window, silent for once, her eyes tracking the chaos in the rearview. Nico leaned back in the passenger seat, one boot resting on the dash, scrolling through something on his phone, probably making sure the data leak we scheduled had gone live.

I glanced down and saw the blood smeared on my arms, dry along the edges of my sleeves, splattered up my boots. I looked at Laura and saw the same. Nico’s jaw was streaked with red like war paint.

And Rafe?

Rafe was art. His black button-down was half unfastened, streaked with blood. He reached a crimson hand for me, brushing hair away from my cheek with a gentleness that shouldn’t have been possible after what we just did.

“I love you,” I whispered, voice thin from the adrenaline still roaring in my veins.

He smiled. That dark, sultry smile only I got. “I know. I love you, too.” His other hand slid up my thigh, fingers hot through the fabric. I sucked in a breath. His voice, low and rough, burned against my ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard when we get back.”

My thighs clenched. Heat coiled low in my stomach.

I didn’t even try to hide the way my body responded, how wild and alive I felt under his touch.

It wasn’t just lust. It was devotion . He always needed me after death.

Whenever he killed, he’d always come home and devour my soul in every way. It was as if he was desperate to feel .

He dipped his sharp jaw lower, teeth brushing my ear.

Nico glanced back, catching the scene in his peripheral, and grinned. “We’ll give you two some privacy when we get back to the hotel,” he said.

Laura laughed, her voice still hoarse from smoke and screams. “God, I wish I needed a post-murder fuck that bad.”

“Oh, you’ll get it, babe,” Nico smirked.

Laura smiled, biting her bottom lip.

“ Jesus , I’ll have to put in fucking headphones, you animals,” Kieran snorted from the front. “Rafe, you’re a crazy bastard.”

“I married the crazy bastard,” I said, my fingers gripping Rafe’s bloodstained shirt.

He leaned in again, lips brushing mine, his voice barely audible over the wind through the cracked windows. “And you’ll ride him tonight like he just burned millions of dollars in empires for you.”

I didn’t answer. I just kissed him hard. Because he had. And I planned to repay him for it in full.

***

We pulled up to the hotel, headlights cutting briefly across the entry. The second Kieran parked, he groaned, rolling his neck. “I’m hitting the shower,” he said, already unbuckling. “So I don’t hear everyone fucking.”

Laura snorted, then grinned at me. There was blood at the edge of her collar, dried now. She looked truly alive in a way I hadn’t seen in so long. She reached for Nico’s hand and kissed him as they walked into the second bedroom, their door clicking shut behind them.

Rafe didn’t say a word.

He just grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the suite, his touch firm and breath shallow.

The moment we hit the bedroom, he slammed the door behind us and kissed me like he was starving.

Tongue deep, fingers fisting in my shirt.

I didn’t care that we were covered in blood, ash, and death. I needed him. He needed me.

Our clothes came off fast–his shirt peeled over his head, and mine easily unbuttoned and discarded. His belt clinked against the floor. My bra landed somewhere by the dresser. Every inch of us was raw, filthy, and fucking beautiful .

He dropped into the oversized chair in the corner, his body a weapon of muscle and violence, and pulled me onto his lap, straddling him.

I moaned when I felt him already hard and thick against me. He didn’t wait. One strong hand guided me down onto him, and I sank inch by inch, gasping as he filled me, stretched me, and split me in the way only he ever had.

“Fuck, Adela…” he growled, burying his face in my neck as I started to move. “Just like that. Take it, baby.”

I rode him hard, rolling my hips, nails digging into his shoulders for leverage. His hands gripped my ass, lifting me slightly with each stroke so he could drive deeper. My body was still humming from the night, from the screams and fire and victory .

“You killed them all,” he whispered, teeth grazing my collarbone. “You didn’t flinch. You didn’t fucking flinch, Dela.”

I kissed him again, breathless while he cupped my breasts.

He smiled, thrusting up harder now, his biceps flexing as he wrapped me tighter in his arms. “You were made for this life,” he whispered. “For me. Look at you. Strong. Savage. Fucking mine. ”

I moaned, head falling back. “God, Rafe… if there’s a heaven,” I breathed, rocking against him faster now, chasing that edge, “I’m not getting in.”

He bit my throat, groaning deep in his chest. “Then we’ll burn together, little doe.”

And fuck, I would.

If this was hell, let it take me. I’d go down on top of him, screaming his name. His hand gripped the back of my neck, pulling me into another kiss as I tightened around him, pleasure spiking.

He whispered praise into my mouth over and over, words like “perfect,” “deadly,” and “mine.”

I shattered in his arms, riding it through with a scream muffled against his lips.

He came a second later, holding me tight to him, every muscle locked, pulsing hard inside me with a wild and primal groan.

We stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily in the dark, our hearts still racing from the war we’d fucking won.