Page 41 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

They separated us. Hands gripped my arms, dragging me down a long, dark hallway. The air was cold and damp, the kind of chill that sank into your bones and stayed there. My breath came fast and shallow, but I forced myself to stay calm.

Panicking wouldn’t help. I needed to think.

But it was hard when my mind kept flashing back to Vincent, his blood, his wide, empty eyes. And Rafe…God, Rafe. He hadn’t said a word after Moreau’s command to separate us. Had barely looked at me. And maybe that was what scared me the most, the quiet. The tornado pulling itself inward.

They shoved me into a room and slammed the door behind me.

A cozy, warm office with low, modern furniture and a fireplace that sat cold and unused.

But the door locked with a solid, mechanical click.

A cage, no matter how pretty. I paced the length of it, adrenaline still burning through my veins. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

What was happening to him?

I sank into one of the chairs, forcing myself to take deep, steadying breaths. I needed to hold it together. I needed a plan. But before I could come up with one, the lock turned. The door opened, and Moreau walked in like he owned the place.

“Well,” he said, his smile lazy and sharp. “You certainly know how to make an entrance, Miss Sinclair.”

I didn’t stand. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him with every ounce of hate I had.

He seemed delighted by it.

“Come now,” he said, moving closer. “Is that any way to greet your host?”

“This isn’t your fucking house.” I snapped. “Where’s Rafe?”

He ignored the question, circling me like a predator. “You know, I’ve been watching you for some time,” he said conversationally. “Long before Rafe made his move. Sinclair Solutions is quite…impressive.”

I forced my face to stay blank. “You’ve been wasting your time, then. My company isn’t for sale.”

“Oh, I’m not looking to buy.” His eyes gleamed. “I’m looking to ruin .”

The words hit like a gut punch, but I didn’t let it show. “Why?”

“Because it matters to him.” Moreau’s smile widened. “And I always hit where it hurts the most.”

My blood turned to ice.

“Don’t worry,” he added. “You’ll survive the fallout. If you’re smart.”

“And what’s your definition of ‘smart’?” I asked, my voice low.

“Distance,” he said simply. “From Rafe. From his empire. From this...little conflict.” He leaned down, his face close to mine. “I could make you very comfortable, Adela. Safe. Powerful.”

“I’m already powerful, you sack of shit. I don’t take this threat to my company lightly, you know that.” It took everything in me not to flinch. “You really think I’d sell him out?”

“Everyone has a price,” Moreau said softly. “Even Vincent. And look how well that turned out for him.”

The reminder made my stomach churn, but I kept my face still. “I’m not Vincent,” I said flatly.

“No,” he agreed. “You’re smarter. You know when the tide is turning. ”

“I know you’re afraid of him,” I shot back. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to take away his advantage.”

The smile slipped, just a fraction. “I’m offering you a way out,” he said. “Before you end up collateral damage.”

“Not interested.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then smiled again. “Oh, Miss Sinclair,” he murmured. “You will be, I promise you that.”

“Why are you so confident?”

“Because I know his history with Sinclair women. He’ll destroy you, just like your mother.”

It was a stab to my gut. I opened and closed my mouth, unsure of how the fuck to react to that. And then he left, but not before giving me a final, lingering look.

He allowed about fifteen minutes to pass while I sat there in silence, stewing over what he had said.

Before I spiraled too hard, the door slammed open.

Rafe stood there, framed in the dim light of the hallway, and the sight of him sent my heart into my throat.

He looked… wrecked. Not just physically, but also in his eyes.

A wildness, a cold, fractured rage I hadn’t seen before.

His black shirt was rumpled, his hands still smeared with blood–Vincent’s blood–and his chest rose and fell with ragged breaths.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a slow, controlled click.

“Rafe–”

“Did he touch you?” His voice was wild. He didn’t move from the door.

“No.” My voice shook despite myself. “He talked. He–”

“What did he say?” His eyes locked on me like a predator scenting blood.

I swallowed. “He tried to turn me against you.”

The air went razor-sharp.

“And?” he asked softly. The way he asked it, like he wasn’t sure of the answer, hurt more than I wanted it to.

I stood up slowly. “And I told him to go to hell. ”

That wildness in his eyes didn’t ease. It stayed coiled tight, dangerous, like he didn’t know where to aim it. Like he was ready to destroy anything that got in his way–even me.

“Rafe, talk to me,” I said, stepping toward him. “What did they do to you? Vincent–”

“Is dead.” His voice was flat. “Because he was weak.”

My throat tightened. “He was your friend.”

“No.” Rafe’s mouth twisted into something bitter and cold. “He was a liability.” The words cut through me like a knife. If his closest friend could be seen as a liability, could I be, too?

“This isn’t you,” I whispered.

His eyes flashed. “You think you know me so well, Adela?” He stalked forward, closing the distance between us.

My breath caught. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re hurting–”

“ I don’t hurt ,” he snarled. “Not for people who betray me.”

“Then why are you like this?” I demanded, stepping into his space. “Why won’t you just let me in?”

His jaw clenched, the muscles jumping. “Because there’s nothing to let in, Adela. This is who I am. This–” His hand jerked toward the blood on his shirt. “This is what I am. And you’d do well to fucking remember it.”

I stared up at him, my heart thundering. “I don’t believe you.”

“Then you’re a goddamn fool.”

“Maybe I am,” I whispered. “But I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.” He said it so softly, so deadly, and yet his hand rose, brushing a lock of hair from my face with surprising gentleness. “You keep pushing,” he said, his voice rough. “And one day, you’re going to see what happens when I finally break.”

“Maybe I’m witnessing it right now,” I whispered.

His eyes searched mine, something raw flickering there. But before either of us could say another word, his phone rang. He didn’t answer it. Didn’t even look at it. He just stood there, his hand still lingering by my face.

It kept ringing.

“Rafe,” I whispered.

With a ragged breath, he pulled back, and the moment shattered. He turned away, yanking the phone from his pocket. “What?” he snapped.

I watched his back as his shoulders went rigid. And when he turned back to me, his face was ice.

“We need to move.”

“What happened?”

“He got to Sinclair Solutions.”

***

We reached Sinclair Solutions just before midnight. The building loomed ahead like a glass-and-steel fortress, but my stomach was twisted with dread. The lights were still on in the upper floors. Laura’s car was parked out front. Too many cars were.

Something was wrong.

“Don’t stray,” Rafe ordered as we approached the entrance.

“Don’t,” I snapped, my nerves fraying. “Don’t handle me right now.”

He didn’t respond, but his hand stayed at the small of my back, a steady pressure I wasn’t sure I wanted or needed.

We stepped inside, and the tension hit me like a physical force.

My security was on edge, and there were more men than there should’ve been.

Rafe’s men. They weren’t subtle. They never were.

Laura was waiting by the elevators, her face set in a tight mask. Relief flashed across her features when she saw me, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “Took you long enough,” she said, her eyes flicking to Rafe. “He’s been busy.”

My pulse spiked. “What happened?”

“Follow me.”

We rode the elevator in silence. My mind spun through worst-case scenarios. A data breach? An attack? Another client lost?

But when the doors opened to my office floor, I realized it was so much worse. The walls were covered in what looked to be, what I hoped to be, red paint. Dripping letters sprawled across the glass partitions, spelling out a single word:

DEATH .

Laura’s voice was low. “They got in.”

My vision tunneled. “How?”

“We don’t know yet. But they didn’t take anything, not digitally, anyway. This was a message.”

I walked forward slowly, my heels echoing too loudly in the silence. The word blurred as I stared at it, my heart thudding against my ribs.

“Staff?” I asked, concerned for everyone who helped make Sinclair Solutions what it was.

“Our people are safe,” she assured. “I put the place on lockdown once Stella notified me of suspicious activity.”

“Stella?” Rafe raised a dark brow.

“Our AI assistant,” I answered swiftly. “She informs us of any and all activity on our servers and the building.” I chewed my lip, my mind spinning in circles.

This was personal. Moreau was making sure of that.

Behind me, Rafe was eerily silent. I could feel the storm coming off him in waves–the barely leashed violence simmering just below the surface.

“They didn’t touch the servers?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.

“No.” Laura’s eyes flicked toward Rafe. “But I’d bet my life they left something behind.”

“We’ll sweep it,” Rafe said coldly. “Top to bottom.”

My hands curled into fists. “He’s coming for me.”

“Yes,” Rafe agreed. “But he won’t reach you.”

I turned to him. “He already has. ”

He stared at me, and there was something unreadable in his eyes, something almost like regret.

Before either of us could speak, Laura’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it and went pale.

“What?” I asked, almost too scared to see whatever it was.

She held out the screen, and the image hit me like a punch to the gut.

It was the loading dock behind our building.

And on the cold concrete, another body lay sprawled in a pool of blood.

I squinted, but couldn’t identify who it was.

The world tilted. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Rafe’s hand closed around my arm, steadying me.

His voice was quiet. “Laura, send everyone home.”

“Rafe–”

“ Now ,” he growled.

Laura went without argument. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

“He’s escalating,” I whispered. “He’s not going to stop tormenting me unless I release you as a client, or you’re dead.”

Rafe’s grip tightened. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

But there was something in his face, and it scared me more than the blood on the walls. Because this time, it wasn’t just rage. It was fear.

***

The entire ride home, I shook with barely contained anger and confusion.

Every time I snuck a peak at Rafe, I saw the mask sliding off.

He brought his fist up to his mouth to avoid losing all control.

But I knew better. He was losing his grip.

Vincent’s betrayal had cut him deeper than he wanted to admit.

And by the time we pulled up to the mansion, I was nauseous.

He stalked inside, and I froze in the entryway. I didn’t think I’d do it until I was already walking back out the door.

But my hand was on the knob, the cool metal biting into my palm, and my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs. “I’m leaving,” I said, my voice shaking. “I can’t do this.”

Rafe’s head snapped up from where he stood near the staircase, his phone still clutched in one hand. He stared at me like I’d just struck him. “Adela,” he said, his voice lethal.

But I was already pulling the door open. The night air rushed in, cold and sharp, and I took one step over the threshold.

One step.

Then I heard it, the sound of him moving. Fast.

“Don’t you dare–”

But he was already there. Rafe crashed into me like a storm, his hand slamming the door shut before I could take another step. I whirled on him, furious. But before I could get a word out, his hands were on me.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was raw, his eyes frantic.

“Let me go!” I shoved at him, but it was useless. He was too strong.

“You want to leave me?” His voice broke on the words. “After everything?”

“After everything? ” I hissed back. “ You’re the one pushing me away! I’m fighting for you, Rafe, and you won’t even let me in!”

For one terrible second, I thought he might let me go.

But then his face hardened.

And he hauled me over his shoulder.

“Rafe!” I pounded my fists against his back, my hair whipping around my face as he stalked back into the house. “Put me down!”

He didn’t say a word. Just carried me up the stairs like I weighed nothing, his breathing ragged, his grip like iron. He was unraveling.

The bedroom door slammed behind us.

And then he threw me on the bed .

I landed with a gasp, my hair spilling around me as I scrambled up onto my elbows. But he was already there. His hands braced on either side of my head, his face inches from mine.

“You think you can just leave?” he rasped. “You think I’ll let you go?”

“I think you never gave me a reason to stay,” I shot back, my voice shaking. “You keep me in the dark, Rafe. You shut me out every time I get close. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

His chest rose and fell like he couldn’t catch his breath. “You stay,” he whispered. “Even when it hurts. Even when it’s ugly.”

“Why?” My throat tightened. “Because I love you?” The words fell into the space between us. And his eyes went wild. He didn’t kiss me, not at first. He just stared at me like I’d broken him. Like I was the only thing in the world keeping him from falling apart.