Page 32 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

The strike came fast. Brutal. A warehouse on the edge of the city, one of Moreau’s largest drug caches.

We moved between the shadows, Rafe’s men sweeping the perimeter while we slipped inside.

I was absolutely no stranger to my gun and compromising situations, but this made my hands tremble.

Going to war with Nicolas Moreau guaranteed only one of us coming out alive.

“I can’t believe I let you come,” Rafe whispered, his gaze darting around our surroundings.

Annoyance flared. “There is no let ,” I snapped, gripping my gun tightly. “I am controlled by no one .”

The first shot cracked through the night like a whip, and we dropped fast, moving as one. My heart raced, my pulse a wild, pounding drumbeat.

“Move,” Rafe’s voice was a low growl, and I didn’t need to be told twice. I followed him, keeping low as we slipped back into the shadows.

The warehouse was a maze of towering crates and rusting metal shelves, the dim light slashing across the concrete floor in long, jagged lines. Shouts echoed from the far side–Moreau’s men spreading out, their boots scuffing against the ground as they searched.

A second shot rang out, closer this time. We dove behind a stack of crates, my breath short and sharp as I pressed my back against the cold wood. My fingers curled tighter around the grip of my gun.

Rafe peered around the edge of the crate, his face calm and focused, like this was nothing more than a game. But I knew better. My father had taught me how to shoot like a sniper. When he turned back to me, his eyes gleamed. “Come.”

Before I could answer, he was moving. I followed, my skin buzzing with fear and exhilaration. The warehouse floor felt endless, each step sending adrenaline racing through my veins.

And then the first man came into view.

He stepped out from behind a stack of boxes, his rifle raised. I didn’t think, I just acted. My shot cracked through the air. The man crumpled, the sound of his fall reverberating in my mind. My hands were steady. My breathing slowed.

I had killed men before, but this felt different.

Rafe glanced back at me, a dark smile curving his mouth. “Good girl.”

Barely a moment passed when another figure emerged, and Rafe moved. He closed the distance in seconds, his knife flashing in the low light. The man didn’t even have time to scream before Rafe sliced his blade through his throat. He hit the ground.

Blood slicked the concrete. Rafe didn’t spare him a second glance.

We kept moving.

Heat and unease flooded my chest seeing him like this.

The air grew thicker, smoke and sweat and the coppery tang of blood.

The warehouse echoed with gunfire and shouted orders, the confusion rising in waves.

I stayed at Rafe’s side, firing when I had to, my body humming with every burst of adrenaline.

There was no hesitation when one of Moreau’s men got too close. He lunged from behind a crate, his knife aimed toward me, but I was faster. My gun kicked against my palm, and he went down hard, the knife skittering across the floor.

I stood over him, my breath ragged, my heart thundering.

Rafe’s eyes found mine, dark and burning. “You’re dangerous, mon amour. ”

The words sent a different kind of heat through me.

But there was no time for that now. The fight wasn’t over.

And we weren’t leaving until Moreau’s men knew precisely who they were dealing with.

Attacking his warehouse and killing his men was indeed a message.

But the real message? That came when we doused the whole place in accelerant.

The fire spread fast, greedy and furious, devouring everything.

Rafe pulled me close as the flames climbed into the night sky. His hand was heavy on my waist, his breath warm against my ear. “He’ll know who did this,” he murmured, his voice dark and triumphant. “And he’ll know what’s coming.”

I looked up at him, my blood still pounding. The fire reflected in his icy eyes, and I felt it inside me, too. The heat, the hunger, the rage. “Let him come,” I said. “Fuck him for threatening us.”

Rafe’s fingers tightened on my hip. His smile was pure menace.

“Oh, love,” he whispered. “He will.”

The car sped through the dark streets, the hum of the engine deafening in the silence. My heart was still pounding, my fingers tight around the edge of my seat. The scent of blood clung to me, to both of us, and the adrenaline hadn’t entirely faded yet.

Rafe sat beside me, calm and composed as ever, though a dangerous energy was still rolling off him.

His profile was all sharp angles and cold beauty in the dim light.

He wiped his blade slowly, the black handkerchief sliding over the steel with meticulous care.

Blood streaked the fabric, a symbol of a man’s death.

His hands were stained, too, with crimson smudges against his skin.

I watched as he cleaned them with the same unhurried patience.

It was insane how relaxed he was after something like that.

“We need more security around Sinclair Solutions,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet. I didn’t bother easing into it. There was no time for subtlety. “I’ll have Laura start hiring immediately, but I want some of your men, too.”

Rafe didn’t even look up from his task. “Agreed.”

It was too easy. Too quick. I expected more of a fight, and the fact that I didn’t get one only unsettled me more.

“I’m serious, Rafe,” I pressed. “Whatever happens next, Sinclair can’t be vulnerable. We can’t afford it.”

His eyes finally flicked to me, cool and indistinct. “I said I agree.” He folded the soiled handkerchief and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “I’ll send them first thing tomorrow.”

The tension coiled tighter in my chest. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past. The night felt too quiet, too still after what we’d just done. The hushed plains before a horrific tornado.

“When do you think Moreau will retaliate?” I asked quietly.

Rafe’s answer was immediate. “Sooner than you think. He’ll be pissed. There were a lot of drugs in there.”

The certainty in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned toward him, studying his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint smear of blood still on his throat. He looked like he belonged to the violence we’d just left behind. And maybe he did. Maybe I did, too.

“This is what it is with you two, isn’t it?” I said softly. “Two monsters tearing each other apart.”

He smiled, slow and wicked. “Monsters don’t hide in the shadows, love,” he murmured. “They wear crowns.”

The words hit me so hard I could have sworn I tasted blood. And maybe I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t.

Nah, I was too far gone for that.

***

The water was scalding, and I welcomed it. It hit my skin in a relentless cascade, washing away the blood, sweat and smoke, but not the feeling. Not the way my blood still vibrated with the aftermath of violence, the rush and the fear, and the twisted exhilaration I hadn’t fully shaken.

I pressed my palms against the cool black tile, letting the heat loosen my muscles. My head dipped forward, and I closed my eyes, willing the tension to drain away.

But it didn’t. I had no idea what I’d gotten myself into with this man. If I had never agreed to this proposition, I would likely be home drinking wine, watching a romantic comedy, or reading my favorite filth.

I felt him before I heard him. The shift in the air, the faint sound of the glass door sliding open. And then rough his hands settled on my waist. Rafe didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. His presence filled the space like a storm cloud, and I wasn’t sure if it was anger or restraint.

Perhaps both.

His fingers slowly traced up my sides, and I broke out in goosebumps even through the hot water. Even now. Even when I was tired.

“You’re quiet,” I said, my voice low.

“So are you.” His mouth brushed my shoulder, and I shivered.

I turned, facing him. The water ran down his face, his dark hair slicked back, and his icy, dead-eyed stare made my heart stutter.

There was something in them I couldn’t place, something destructive and distant.

I almost wondered if this man was capable of anything warm.

Or if his soul was as cold and metallic as the gun he used to kill.

“We just killed people together,” I said, searching his face. “I think that earns me a few answers.”

One dark brow arched. “Does it?”

I glared at him. “Don’t do that. Don’t deflect.”

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t quite figured out. “What do you want me to say, Adela?”

“The truth.” The word felt like a dare .

His jaw tightened. “The truth is dangerous.”

“So am I.”

That earned me a flicker of a smile, brief and sharp, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

I stepped closer, my palms sliding up his chest. His heart was steady beneath my fingers, but there was a tension in his body.

“You asked me to stay,” I said softly. “You wanted this.”

“I still do.”

“Then let me in. Why does Moreau hate you so much? What exactly happened between you?”

He was silent. The water beat down on us, the heat and the steam wrapping around our bodies, but the cold between us was undeniable.

“Is this just about the business?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “About Sinclair Solutions protecting your empire?”

His eyes flashed. “You think I’d put you in my bed for convenience? ”

“I don’t know what to think, Rafe. You never tell me. You’re closed off.”

The silence was nearly intimidating. And then his hands were on my face, his grip almost too tight. His eyes burned into mine.

“I want you ,” he said, low and fierce. “But wanting you doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

I swallowed hard. “Safe stopped being an option the moment I met you.”

He didn’t answer. He kissed me instead, like he was trying to prove something. Or maybe trying to forget about whatever plagued his mind.