Page 36 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

“Why won’t you listen to me?” he whispered.

“Because I don’t take fucking orders from you,” I shot back.

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes.

And then his mouth unexpectedly seized mine.

It wasn’t a kiss, not really. It was a battle.

Teeth and tongues and heat, his grip tightening when I tried to pull back.

He wouldn’t let me go. My hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer, even as my mind screamed at me to stop.

But I didn’t stop. Neither did he.

The edge of his desk hit the backs of my thighs. He lifted me onto it in one smooth motion, his body pressing between my legs, his hands sliding into my hair.

“You’re so fucking frustrating,” he muttered against my lips.

“I’m glad,” I gasped, arching into him. “You deserve it. You’re an asshole .”

He laughed, and I felt it all the way down my spine. But before it could go any further, his phone rang. He ignored it. His teeth grazed my throat, his fingers digging into my hips.

It kept ringing.

“Answer it,” I murmured, breathless.

He swore under his breath and pulled back just enough to grab the phone from his pocket. I watched his face as he answered, and the shift was instant. The heat vanished, replaced by something cold and deadly.

“When?” His voice was like ice. “Where?”

A beat of silence. Then his eyes met mine, and my stomach turned to stone.

“We’re on our way.” He hung up and grabbed my hand, already moving.

“Rafe–”

“Moreau made another move,” he said, his grip tight and unyielding. “Another personal one.”

***

The drive was silent, tension thick enough to choke on.

Rafe’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, his jaw locked tight.

The only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional vibration of his phone–updates coming in one after another.

He didn’t answer them. He didn’t need to. Whatever had happened, it was bad.

I stared out the window, my heart pounding. The city blurred past in streaks of neon and shadow, but I barely saw it. “Rafe,” I said finally, my voice low. “What did he do?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, his knuckles flexing once, twice.

“Rafe.”

“He took someone,” he said, voice flat and cold. “One of my men. Someone important.”

My stomach twisted. “Who?”

He glanced at me then, and there was something almost reluctant in his eyes like he didn’t want to tell me. But he did.

“Vincent.”

The air rushed out of my lungs. Vincent, Rafe’s right hand. The one who’d been at his side through every bloody step of his rise to power. The man I’d seen only briefly, but who I knew was more than just muscle. He was loyalty and strategy and an extension of Rafe himself.

“Is he–”

“Alive?” Rafe’s mouth tightened. “For now. But Moreau won’t keep him that way for long. Not unless we move fast.”

I swallowed against the lump rising in my throat. “Then what’s the plan?”

Rafe finally looked at me fully, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The plan,” he said softly. “I’m going to rip his fucking heart out.”

The warehouse was on the outskirts of the city, one of Moreau’s lesser-known properties, but well-guarded. When we arrived, Rafe’s men were already in position, the air buzzing with a wild tension that promised bloodshed.

“Stay close to me,” Rafe ordered, checking his weapons with quick, efficient movements.

“Don’t tell me to stay close like I’m some kind of liability,” I snapped, loading my own gun. “I can handle myself. Focus on Vincent.”

His eyes flicked to me, and despite the situation, a spark of something lit behind them. “I know you can, love. But you don’t know Moreau like I do. And I won’t risk you.”

When we finally reached the main room, my heart slammed against my ribs. Vincent was there, bloodied and bruised, tied to a chair in the center of the room. But he was alive. Barely.

And standing beside him, with a knife pressed to his throat and a smile that made my skin crawl, was Moreau.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his eyes gleaming with vicious amusement. “Look who finally decided to join us.”

Rafe’s entire body went still–the kind of stillness of a predator before it struck. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. Deadly. “Let him go.”

Moreau’s smile widened. “Or what?”

I didn’t wait for Rafe’s answer. I raised my gun, and Moreau’s eyes snapped to me. “Ah,” he said, his gaze raking over me with slow, deliberate interest. “I’ve heard of your skills with a gun.”

“Not enough, apparently,” I shot back, my finger tightening on the trigger. “Or you’d know not to underestimate me.”

He laughed darkly. “Oh, I never underestimate a woman willing to stand beside a man like Vaughan.” His eyes gleamed. “But tell me, Sinclair, how much do you really know about the monster you’re sleeping with? Have you asked him yet?”

The words hit harder than they should have, but before I could answer, Rafe moved. It happened fast. One second, Moreau had the knife at Vincent’s throat. And the next, Rafe had his gun drawn, and the room erupted into chaos.

Moreau’s men poured into the room. I didn’t think–I fired. The shot cracked through the space, and the first man dropped. But it didn’t stop them. They kept coming.

“Get Vincent!” Rafe barked, his voice sharp and commanding.

I didn’t hesitate. I sprinted toward the chair, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would crack my ribs. Vincent’s head lolled forward, his face a mess of blood and bruises. I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands flying to the knots at his wrists.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered, fingers slipping on the rope.

Behind me, I could hear Rafe and the brutal efficiency of his violence. Gunfire and the wet, sick sound of bodies hitting the floor. I didn’t dare look back.

“Adela, hurry,” Rafe snapped.

“I’m trying!”

The rope finally gave. I pulled Vincent’s arm over my shoulders, trying to haul him up. He groaned, his weight sagging against me.

“Go,” Rafe ordered, his voice closer now.

I staggered toward the exit, dragging Vincent with me. Rafe stayed behind with several of his men, covering us. But Moreau’s voice rang through, sharp as hell.

“You should ask him,” he called, his tone almost amused. “Ask him what really happened to your mother.”

I froze.

“Don’t listen to him,” Rafe growled, his hand closing around my arm.

But I couldn’t move. My breath turned shallow, my mind spinning. “What?” I whispered.

Moreau smiled–a sharp, cruel thing. “You think Vaughan doesn’t keep secrets from you? You think he’s not using you, just like your father did to your mother?” He tilted his head. “You’re smart, Adela. How long before you start asking the right questions?”

“ Enough ,” Rafe snapped, his grip tightening.

But it was too late. The seed had already been planted.

We got Vincent out. Rafe’s men swept in to cover us, the fight coming to a close behind us. But my mind was far away, stuck on Moreau’s words, on the cold look in Rafe’s eyes.

On the terrible feeling that I was missing something.

***

Back at the mansion, the air was so thick that it was nearly suffocating. Vincent was being treated, Rafe pacing like a caged animal. I stood at the edge of the room, arms crossed tight over my chest, trying to piece everything together.

“ Don’t ,” Rafe said without looking at me.

“Don’t what? ”

“Don’t start questioning me because of something Moreau said.” His voice was low and dangerous, but there was something else underneath–something frayed. It was like he was scared.

“Then tell me the truth,” I shot back. “About my mother. About why Moreau thinks he knows something I don’t.”

He turned to face me slowly, his eyes cold and unreadable. “Not now.”

“Then when? ” I demanded. “When it’s too late? When I’m bleeding out from another fucking bullet that another fucking enemy buries in my side?”

Rafe stalked across the room, his face a mask of control–but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the fury simmering just beneath the surface. I wanted him to explode. I wanted the truth .

“I deserve answers ,” I said, my voice shaking. “If I’m going to stand by your side in this, I need to know what we’re really up against and what the fuck you’re holding back.”

“You know what we’re up against,” Rafe shot back, his eyes flashing. “A man who wants to destroy me, and he’s not above using you to do it.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.” I took a step closer. “He knows something about my mother. Something you haven’t told me. Why? Did you know her?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Because it won’t change anything.”

“It’ll change everything ,” I whispered. “Rafe…if you love me, you’ll tell me the truth.”

The words hung between us, heavier than I meant them to be. He went still–so still, it was terrifying. And then he laughed, low and bitter like I’d said something foolish.

“ Love? ” he said, stepping closer until there was barely any space between us. “Is that what you think this is?”

The words were a slap. But I held my ground. “If it isn’t, tell me now.”

He didn’t answer. His silence cut deeper than any words could have.

I swallowed the ache rising in my throat. “Great. Now, at least, I know my worth to you. I am just protection from whatever horrid fucking shit you’ve done. I don’t even know if you deserve my protection because I know fuck all about you!”

He flinched. Just barely. But I saw it.

I took a step back, my chest tight. “I see.”

“Adela–”

“No.” I held up a hand. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to use every piece of me without giving anything back.”

For the first time, his control cracked. “I told you, I’m keeping you alive.”

“Is that all this is, then? You never answered me.” I whispered. “Is this just a business arrangement with a little sex on the side? ”

He didn’t answer. And that silence was my breaking point. Why the fuck couldn’t he answer that question?

I turned on my heel, heading for the door. I couldn’t breathe in this room–not with him standing there, holding everything back. But his hand closed around my arm, spinning me back toward him.

“Let go,” I warned.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice raw. “You want the truth? Fine. Your mother–”

The door burst open. One of Rafe’s men stood there, his face pale and grim.

“What’s wrong, Kieran?” Rafe asked urgently.

Kieran ran his hand over his long black hair, his brown eyes wide. “There’s been a breach,” he said. “At Sinclair Solutions.”

My blood turned to ice. With a quickness I didn’t realize was possible, I was calling Laura.

Laura’s voice was a razor through the phone line. “Adela, we’re–”

“I know. What’s happening?”

“The get your ass down here right now kind. Our firewall’s taking hits from every direction. These aren’t your garden-variety hackers. They know exactly where to strike.”

I was already moving, yanking on my shoes and grabbing my bag. “How bad?”

Laura’s silence was answer enough. Then, quietly: “It’s not just a breach, Adela. They’re going after the client database. And they’re putting a lot of effort into Rafe’s.”

I froze in the middle of the bedroom. My pulse slammed in my throat. “ What? ”

“They’re ripping to get at his information,” she said, and I could hear her fingers flying over her keyboard. “We’ve contained most of it, but if they get through this last layer–”

“I’m on my way.”

I hung up before she could respond, heart pounding as I bolted for the door. Rafe was waiting in the hallway, like he always was, eyes narrowing as soon as he saw my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Sinclair Solutions is under attack. And they’re also targeting your client logs and banking info.”

I expected him to argue, to tell me I wasn’t going anywhere, but he didn’t. He just nodded once. “Let’s go.”

The car ride was tense and silent. Rafe’s fingers tapped against his thigh, his jaw set in stone. I was trying to stay calm, but panic pressed against my ribs like a vice. If they got to our client database, if those files were compromised, the fallout would be catastrophic.

Laura was waiting when we arrived, her face pale and furious. “It’s Moreau. It has to be.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing.

I followed Laura into the war room–walls lined with monitors, code streaming across the screens in an endless, frantic rush. My team was already there, working at breakneck speed.

“They’re good,” Laura said tightly. “But we’re better. They haven’t gotten through yet, but–”

An alert cut her off. The red flash of a breach attempt–and this one was closer.

“ Damn it ,” she hissed, fingers flying. “I need you on the secondary firewall. Now.”

I slid into the chair beside her, and for a while, there was nothing but the sound of keys and the pounding of my heart. Rafe stood behind me, watching everything, reading every move as if he understood exactly what we were doing.

“They’re relentless,” Laura muttered. “And smart. This kind of attack… it’s coordinated. Someone with serious resources is pulling these strings.”

We both knew who.

The next breach hit harder and faster. A cascade of warnings flooded the screen. My fingers flew over the keys, heart racing. “Laura– ”

“On it!”

But it wasn’t enough. The walls were starting to crack. Holy fuck.

“Pull the client database offline,” Rafe said suddenly, his voice calm and commanding.

Laura’s head snapped toward him. “We can’t–”

“You can,” he said. “Do it now, or they’ll take everything.”

I hesitated–but I knew he was right. With a few keystrokes, I cut the connection. The system screamed warnings, but the threat eased–for now.

Laura sagged back in her chair. “That buys us time. But they might try again.”

I turned toward Rafe. “He’s not going to stop, is he?”

“No,” Rafe said quietly. “Not until there’s nothing left of me.”