Page 27 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

Rafe’s men came into view, concern rippling off them all. Their backs were stiff, faces drawn tight with unease as they stood near the entrance to the garage. Whatever waited beyond that open door was bad enough to make dangerous men nervous.

Lauren strode toward me, giving Rafe a look like she was deciding whether or not to punch him. “You okay to be walking?”

“Yes,” I said, though my voice came out tighter than I wanted. “What’s happening?”

The men shifted uneasily. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a scar down his cheek, turned to Rafe. “We…received a delivery, sir.”

Rafe went still. That terrifying, predatory stillness that said someone was about to die.

“Where?” His voice was calm, and that only made it worse.

Scarface nodded toward the garage. “We moved it. But it was delivered just outside the gate. The truck was fast.”

Rafe’s hand left my waist as he moved forward, and despite the sharp pulse of fear rising in my throat, I followed. Lauren was right beside me.

We stepped into the garage, and I saw it immediately–the crate sitting in the center of the polished concrete floor. It was big. Too big. The top had already been pried off, and the wood was splintered and rough. I smelled it before I saw it–copper and another smell that made my stomach turn.

Rafe’s men shifted as he approached, moving out of his way like they could feel the storm rolling off of him. He stopped in front of the crate. Looked down.

I heard Lauren’s sharp intake of breath a second before I reached his side and saw what was inside.

It was a man–or what was left of one. His face was a ruin, his throat slit wide.

Blood soaked his ripped-open suit, but the worst part was his chest. The word was carved deep into the flesh, crude and unmistakable.

DEATH.

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t flinch. I forced myself to keep looking, even when my vision threatened to blur. “Who is he?” I asked, my voice low and steady.

“One of mine,” Rafe said, and there was something almost gentle in his tone, the kind of calm that comes right before an explosion. “Must have gotten him at the shipping yard.”

Lauren’s hand gripped my arm. “Adela, you see what I mean? This–this is what I was talking about. He’s dragging you into his war.”

I shook her off. “We’re already in it.”

“Damn right we are,” Rafe said. His eyes found mine, cold and burning at once. “And that fucker just made it personal.”

“What does he want?” I asked.

His jaw tightened. “To break me.”

“And they think coming after me will do that? And torturing your men?” I asked, tilting my head. “Seems he doesn't know you very well.”

Something flashed in his eyes. “No,” he murmured.

The room felt like it was on the edge of something, a breath held just before the fall.

The silence became overwhelming. He stood still as stone, his eyes locked on the message carved into the corpse, but I could feel the fury gathering under his skin.

And when Rafe Vaughan finally lost control, someone was going to bleed for it.

Lauren shifted beside me. “We need to call the cops,” she said, her voice low.

“No.” Rafe’s answer was immediate, flat. Absolute.

Lauren’s eyes narrowed. “Rafe, this isn’t–”

“ No, ” he repeated, turning toward her with a slow, measured look that should’ve made her back down. It didn’t, but she didn’t push him, either. “You don’t want the kind of attention they’ll bring. This body disappears. Tonight.”

I swallowed, keeping my own breathing steady.

Lauren didn’t understand the world Rafe moved in, not like I did.

The police wouldn’t protect us. They’d tear Sinclair Solutions apart, trying to figure out why my company was mixed up with a man like Vaughan.

And they wouldn’t stop until they had answers.

Which...would lead them to all of our shady clients.

“We can’t risk them finding out about our highest-paying clients, Lauren,” I whispered. “We’ll handle it,” I said before she could argue. “Discreetly.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked to mine. I felt it, that heat, that undercurrent of understanding that passed between us too easily. “I knew you’d see reason,” he murmured.

Lauren made a sound of frustration, but she didn’t argue.

Scarface stepped forward. “Sir, we’ve already started the cleanup, but there’s…more.” His throat bobbed, and I didn’t miss the way his eyes darted toward me.

“Say it,” Rafe said, his tone ice.

“It’s a message for her, sir.”

The air went still. My blood turned to ice.

“What?” My voice shot up an octave.

Scarface shifted uneasily. “The crate…it came with a note. A real one. Paper.” He pulled a folded sheet from his jacket and handed it to Rafe.

Rafe opened it slowly, his eyes scanning the words. I watched his face, but it gave nothing away. And when he passed the paper to me, my fingers felt numb.

Back out, Sinclair. You will die.

A cold shiver raced down my spine.

“He’s targeting you,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Because he thinks you’re my weakness.”

I met his eyes. “Is he right?”

The silence that followed stretched hot and dangerous between us.

“Not here,” he said finally. “We talk in private.”

He reached for my hand. I let him take it, even though part of me knew that meant I was already too deep in this.

Lauren’s voice followed us as he led me back into the house. “Adela–”

“I’ll handle it,” I called back, though I wasn’t sure if I meant the body or Rafe. Maybe both.

We didn’t stop until we were inside his study, a massive, shadowed space lined with books and glass cases that held things I probably didn’t want to know the history of. He shut the door behind us, and when I turned to face him, the tension between us snapped.

“Okay, what the fuck . You need to tell me what this is.” I demanded.

Rafe’s eyes flashed. “He wants to scare you off.”

“He doesn’t know me very well, then,” I said, stepping closer. “But you do. So tell me, what do I need to know?”

He hesitated. And I hated that. “The usual reason powerful men hate each other. One wants power more than he should have.”

“Goddammit,” I hissed. “I didn’t sign up to be automatically included in this.”

“I’m giving you protection.” His voice was low. “And you will take it. ”

Anger sparked through me. “ Don’t tell me what I’ll take. You didn’t even fucking tell me about Moreau. He’s a scary motherfucker, Rafe.”

He moved closer, slowly, until the heat of him pressed against me, and my pulse went wild. “So am I. Now stand down.”

We were too close, his breath warm on my lips, his body a wall of apprehension and power. And maybe I should’ve been scared. Maybe I should’ve pulled back.

But there was no way in hell.

“Adela,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You need to move in with me.”

I tilted my chin up. “What? No .”

The last thread of control snapped.

He reached out and snatched me by my throat. Stunned, I stared up at him. “If you stay in your apartment, someone could break in and take you. Do you understand me?”

I hesitated, feeling his fingers squeeze. “My building is secure. I am a powerful woman.”

He let out an amused laugh. “If someone wants to get you, they will.” His fingers flexed just enough to remind me who exactly I was dealing with. My pulse pounded against his palm, and still, I didn’t back down. I never backed down.

“I’m not some helpless little thing you need to lock away,” I said, my voice steady despite the tight grip on my throat.

“I built Sinclair Solutions to what it is today. I’ve defended my company and my power every step of the way.

I don’t need you to protect me. I’ve pissed off big men before.

Moreau will be no different. Or you, for that matter. ”

His eyes darkened, glinting like a storm just before it broke. “That’s where you’re wrong, love.” His voice softened, but the danger in it only sharpened. “You’ve never faced an enemy like this. And if you think I’ll sit back and let you make yourself an easy target, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I don’t need you to– ”

He squeezed, just enough to steal my words. My breath caught, and I coughed. But his touch wasn’t entirely brutal. It was controlled. And the tension crackling between us only grew hotter.

“ You do need me, ” he said softly, his mouth inches from mine. “And whether you admit it or not, you know it.”

I hated the vulnerability that twisted through me. Hated knowing that someone had already gotten too close, that someone had seen me as his weakness and was moving against me. My independence had always been my armor. And Rafe Vaughan? He threatened to strip it away piece by piece.

But I didn’t show my fear. I never did.

“You’re used to people obeying you,” I whispered, my lips brushing his. “But I’m not one of your men, Rafe.”

“You’re moving in with me,” he said again, ignoring what I just said.

“No,” I said, just as stubbornly.

Rafe’s mouth curved into an eerie grin, his dimple appearing on his right cheek. “Then I’ll have my men stationed outside your building.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then you’re moving in,” he said simply.

“No.” I huffed, anger flaring hotter. “You can’t force me.”

His brow arched, and the slow, wicked smile that stretched across his face sent shivers down my spine. “ Can’t I? ”

My heart slammed against my ribs. But before I could snap back, a sharp knock on the study door interrupted us.

Rafe didn’t take his eyes off me. “What?”

Scarface’s voice came through the door, tense and clipped. “Sir, we’ve got another problem.”

Rafe’s fingers slid from my throat. He pulled back, his expression shuttering into something cold and lethal. “Stay here.”

I bristled immediately. “Like hell, I will.”

He didn’t argue. He just opened the door and stalked out. And because I was not the kind of woman who waited quietly while men handled things, I followed.

We stepped into the main hall, and the energy in the house had shifted. Men moved quickly, speaking in low, tense voices. And when we reached the foyer, Scarface handed Rafe a phone.

“They just sent this,” he said grimly.

Rafe took one look at whatever was on that screen, and his entire body went still.

“What is it?” I demanded.

He didn’t answer. He just turned the phone toward me.

It was a photo. Of my building. My penthouse window.

And someone’s fingers holding up a ripped piece of paper with jagged handwriting that read:

DEATH.

The room spun. My stomach twisted, not with fear, but with fury. Rafe’s hand found my wrist, his grip firm but steady. “You’re moving in with me,” he commanded quietly.