Page 44 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

ADELA

The days passed in a strange, stretched-out silence.

A fragile kind of peace that felt more like the calm before a storm than any real sense of safety.

It should have been a relief. The attacks had stopped.

Moreau hadn’t made another move, hadn’t even sent any messages.

But the waiting was worse. Every hour that ticked by only wound the tension in me tighter–and I could see it happening to Rafe, too.

He was quieter. Softer, in some ways. His touch lingered a little longer, his voice lower when he spoke to me. But there was a distance in him I couldn’t quite close. And when I looked at him sometimes, I saw that edge of fear he tried so hard to keep buried.

He was waiting for something. And whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be good. I hated the waiting. I hated not knowing when the next hit would come. And most of all, I hated how unsettled I felt in this quiet.

Because I couldn’t stop thinking about that night.

The way his hands had bruised me. The fire in his eyes when he’d thrown me against the door, too far gone to hold back. The snap of his control when I’d pushed him too far. I’d never seen him so broken, so wild, and it scared me how much I wanted him anyway.

It scared me more that I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to handle him when he broke like that again.

What happened between us the other night was probably the most terrifying yet powerful, beautiful thing I’d ever experienced.

And I knew he felt it, too. Even if we didn’t talk about it.

I had to be patient with him, this unstable, damaged soul.

But I couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when I felt his walls starting to splinter. Not when I knew there was something real between us, no matter how dangerous it might be. I stood at the bedroom window, watching the sun sink behind the trees. The estate was quiet. Too quiet.

Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of movement, and then Rafe’s arms slipped around my waist, his chest warm and solid against my back. “You’re tense,” he murmured against my neck, his lips brushing my skin.

I sighed, leaning into him despite myself. “So are you.”

He didn’t deny it. His grip tightened, and his voice dipped lower. “It’s been four days.” Four days without an attack. Four days without any word from Moreau. And the longer the silence stretched, the more I felt like we were waiting for a gun to go off.

“Maybe he’s regrouping,” I said, trying to sound calm even though I didn’t believe it.

Rafe’s laugh was quiet and dark. “No. He’s waiting for something.”

I turned in his arms, looking up at him. His face was drawn, his jaw tight, and when our eyes met, that fear I kept seeing in him flared bright and sharp.

I swallowed hard. “You think he’s going to hit us harder.”

“I know he is.” His fingers brushed my jaw, his touch gentle despite the tension in his body. “And when he does–”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

We both knew this wasn’t over.

I reached up, sliding my hand into his hair. “We’ll be ready,” I said softly. “Let’s just be a happy couple until then, okay?”

He didn’t answer. But when he kissed me, there was something frantic in it that almost tasted like goodbye.

And that scared me most of all.

** *

The rhythmic clacking of my keyboard filled the office, the soft hum of productivity setting me at ease. Sunlight streamed through the massive windows, pouring over my desk. I glanced over at the clock, noting that it was nearly noon.

Just as I leaned back in my chair, stretching out the tension in my shoulders, a knock sounded at my door before Laura waltzed in.

“Mindy just put in for vacation,” she announced, plopping into the chair across from me. “A whole week.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Grant it.”

Laura raised a brow. “That was fast.”

“She deserves it,” I said, shrugging. “We’re doing fine right now, and I want people to have a life outside of work.”

Laura smirked. “You are, without a doubt, the best boss ever.”

I huffed a small laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, I would,” she said, standing with an approving nod. “Remind me to ask for a raise later.”

I rolled my eyes as she sauntered toward the door, disappearing down the hall with an amused grin. Shaking my head, I leaned back in my chair, pulling my phone from the desk. Without thinking, my fingers hovered over Rafe’s name before I typed out a message.

I want to spend the night at my penthouse tonight.

The response was immediate.

Rafe: No.

I smirked, already expecting the resistance.

I wasn’t asking.

Three dots appeared, then stopped. Then appeared again.

Rafe: Why?

I sighed, rubbing my temple before responding.

I just need some space. I need to keep my independence and clear my head a little. I’m not mad at you or anything; I just want a night to myself.

Seconds passed. Then, a full minute. Finally, my phone vibrated.

Rafe: I don’t like it.

I could practically hear his frustration and see how his jaw would tick as he debated arguing with me. But he didn’t. Instead, another message came through.

Rafe: Fine. But text me if you have any issues.

I smiled softly, my fingers typing out my final reply.

Always.

***

After a long day at the office, all I wanted was to curl up on the couch, pour myself a glass of wine, and lose myself in a romantic comedy.

Living with Rafe… it felt tense. Not bad, exactly. We were having a lot of sex, and thoroughly at that, but he was constantly on the phone, always in the middle of some intense conversation with people I didn’t know. And no matter how many times I asked, he wouldn’t tell me much about them.

Here, in my own space, I could breathe again.

I could forget about the chaos I’d walked into.

Just me, my wine, and the calm of my apartment.

My eyes drank in the sparkling city below while I poured my wine.

And it was only after I sat down on my plush couch with my fuzzy brown blanket that I allowed my shoulders to relax.

Life felt so...fast now. It was like the moment I let this man into it, everything shifted.

And I honestly couldn’t tell if it was for better or worse.

A knock shattered the stillness of my apartment.

I froze.

My fingers tightened around the stem of my wine glass, the deep red liquid trembling with the sudden jolt of silence that followed. It was late. Too late for visitors .

I glanced at my phone. No message. No missed calls. If it were Rafe, Kieran, or anyone from his crew, they wouldn’t have knocked. They had a key. They wouldn’t hesitate.

I set my glass down slowly, the swirl of wine catching the light as it settled.

My bare feet made no sound against the floor as I moved toward the door.

The silk of my pajama shorts whispered against my thighs, and my black camisole brushed cool and smooth over my skin.

Every step made the quiet feel heavier, more unnatural .

Something was wrong.

My heart wasn’t racing, but my gut twisted, instincts flaring like a warning bell I couldn’t ignore. I peered through the peephole, breath rushing in on a sharp inhale when I saw him.

Moreau .

Perfectly tousled blond hair. Light brown eyes that gleamed with amusement and danger. He wore a razor-sharp black suit that mirrored Rafe’s style–but unlike Rafe, who moved like a shadow in the periphery, Nicolas Moreau stood in full view like a man who feared nothing.

He smiled.

And I hesitated. Just long enough to let curiosity edge out caution.

I unlatched the door. The second it cracked open, he was inside, moving past me with unsettling ease, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

The scent of his cologne wrapped around me as he strolled deeper into my home, slow and casual, like a man admiring his own property.

I inhaled sharply and pivoted toward the entryway table, my fingers closing around the cold steel tucked inside my purse. But before I could raise the gun, he laughed.

“Oh, sweetheart ,” he drawled, turning with his hands in his pockets, eyes glittering. “That won’t be necessary.”

I didn’t lower the gun. “That’s not your call to make.”

His smirk deepened, and he took a step closer. His gaze dragged down the length of me in my sleepwear, lingering far too long. I hated the way my skin reacted–tightening, bristling, a cold chill racing down my spine.

“You are so breathtaking,” he murmured, almost like it pained him. Then his voice lowered. “No wonder he’s obsessed.”

I scoffed, keeping my aim steady. “If you’re here to compliment me, you could have sent flowers.”

His smile deepened. “And miss this moment? You, in black silk, pointing a gun at me? I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to focus. Why was he suddenly being so goddamn charming? Was this a new tactic? “What do you want, Moreau?”

His gaze darkened. He was a dangerous fucking man. I didn’t even know how many people he had killed. “To offer you something better.”

I tilted my head, feigning boredom. “Better than what?”

His tongue slowly ran along his bottom lip. “Better than being Rafe Vaughan’s little fuck toy until before you become his collateral.”

I snorted. “I’m no one’s collateral. I’m a fucking queen of an incredible and powerful empire.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Not if you’re in bed with a Vaughan .”

I narrowed my eyes. “And I suppose getting in bed with a Moreau is better?”

He grinned, and something about the way his gaze slid down my body made my stomach tighten. The confidence in his expression was infuriating. Unshakable. “I could give you more,” he said smoothly. “A true empire. Power that doesn’t come with the leash Rafe keeps around your neck.”

I forced a laugh, leaning against the doorway. “You think I’m on a leash?”

He cocked his head. “I think you’re playing a perilous game with a man who will burn everything–including you–if he feels threatened. He’s not a man who holds relationships, my dear. ”