Page 55 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

ADELA

(TW: sexual assault)

The day at Sinclair Solutions had been… good.

Surprisingly, miraculously good. It shouldn’t have caught me off guard, but after the chaos these men had detonated in my life like lit matches in a dry field, I’d stopped expecting calm.

And yet… the office had been steady. The systems held strong–no new breaches, no red alerts screaming from the security dashboard.

Clients hadn’t pulled out, not even the risk-averse ones.

If anything, they’d doubled down, reassured by our defense s.

I could almost breathe again. Almost.

My body ached from the night before. Rafe had ruined me in the best way–thorough and merciless, like only he could.

I’d barely been able to walk straight this morning, and I clenched my thighs under my desk more than once just remembering the way he fucked me like he owned every inch of me. Because he did. God, he did.

But with every step that reminded me of how he took me, guilt whispered its venom at the edges of my mind.

It had nearly drowned me for the last week.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Moreau’s face, heard the way he said my name, and felt the way his hand slid between my thighs like he was my other lover.

My body, stupid and desperate for something reckless, had craved him in the moment.

But then I saw Rafe’s face in my mind, and my heart cracked wide open.

I’d pulled away. I had. I gave myself credit for that.

But still, I let Moreau touch me. I let him kiss me.

And I hadn’t stopped it right away. God, I was such a bitch.

Rafe gave me everything I knew I was missing and everything I never thought I could have. He was chaos and comfort. Obsession and safety. He didn’t just fuck me; he claimed me. And I let another man put his hands on me. The pit in my stomach hadn’t gone away since.

Laura had noticed something was off. She hadn’t said a word, but the sly little grin she’d sent me across the room more than once said enough.

She probably thought I was just high off the fact that we weren’t under siege today.

Or maybe she knew there was more to it. Knew me well enough to read the tightness in my shoulders, the way I stared too long at my own reflection in the dark glass of my office window.

Either way, she hadn’t pushed. And I appreciated the silence more than I could say.

***

The sun was dipping below the skyline when I finally stepped out of the car and into the cool evening air.

The estate loomed ahead, beautiful and imposing as ever, its stone facade glowing in the last light of the day.

My stomach growled as I thought of what we’d do for dinner.

Hmm, I figured I’d suggest pizza. It had been so long since I’d had a really good pizza.

But the closer I got to the mansion, the heavier the air seemed. My legs suddenly wanted me to return to the car instead of walking inside. Sighing, I adjusted my purse on my shoulder, ensuring my pistol was secured inside.

I felt it before I saw him.

The tension, the weight of something waiting to strike. I found him in his office, standing by the window, his back to me, his hands braced against the glass like he was trying to hold himself together. The muscles in his arms were taut, his whole body drawn tight. I swallowed hard. Fuck .

“Rafe?”

He didn’t turn. Didn’t move. But I saw his reflection in the glass, and my stomach twisted. His face was a mask of fury, his eyes dark and tumultuous.

“What happened?” I asked, stepping closer, but the words felt small against the pressure in the room.

He didn’t answer right away. And when he did, his voice was cold and razor-sharp. “That night when you went back to your apartment for the night, where else did you go?”

The question hit me like a slap. I opened and closed my mouth, fear suddenly closing around my throat. Oh, fuck. “Why?”

He finally turned then, and the look on his face made my blood run cold. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His cold tone sliced through the air, and I stared at him, my heart pounding.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He didn’t say a word. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his phone, tapped the screen once, and tossed it onto the desk between us like it was something foul.

The video was already playing.

At first, I didn’t understand what I was looking at. The flicker of a grainy security feed. The cold, gray glow of a surveillance camera cast over a sleek modern house I recognized far too well.

Moreau’s .

And then–

Me. I felt the blood drain from my face.

There I was on the screen, walking up the front steps with him at my side.

I could see how he leaned in, murmuring something in my ear.

My head tilted instinctively, my mouth forming a reply.

It was silent, but the memory hit me like a punch to the chest. I could hear it all in my head–what he said, what I didn’t stop immediately .

The screen glitched, flickering. There was a brief time-lapse. Then, the two of us reappeared, exiting the house. I watched myself again, clearly uncomfortable with him trailing too close behind me.

I swallowed hard. My pulse throbbed in my throat like a warning siren. I didn’t need to look to know Rafe’s eyes were on me. But I turned anyway. His gaze slid back to the screen, unmoving. Silent. A statue carved out of rage and restraint.

The silence pressed against my chest. It was worse than yelling or any threat. I wanted to speak, tell him the truth, and beg him to listen, but my voice got caught between my lungs and my heart. Because Rafe wasn’t stupid.

He knew who Moreau was. He looked to be the angel to Rafe’s devil, even if both were evil as fuck.

He also knew me and what I liked, what I craved, what could tempt me.

And the video didn’t show the moment I pulled away.

It didn’t show the guilt, the disgust, the fear.

It only showed what could look like… betrayal .

My legs felt weak.

“Rafe,” I whispered, finally forcing the word from my throat. “Let me explain–”

He turned so fast that I flinched. His eyes were fire and ice all at once, like he’d already seen the worst and was daring me to make it worse still.

“Explain?” His voice was raw. Unhinged. Like it had been dragged through glass. He gave a low, broken laugh that chilled me to the bone. “You want to explain this?” He grabbed the phone off the desk, thumbed it back a few seconds, then shoved the screen toward me like it was proof of a crime.

I couldn’t speak. Not fast enough. Not in the way he needed.

And something inside him snapped . Rafe’s hand flew out, and the phone slammed into the wall behind me with a violent crack, shattering on impact.

I gasped, heart leaping into my throat, but it didn’t stop there.

He was already moving–crossing the space between us like a hurricane.

“You let him touch you, didn’t you?” he roared, grabbing the edge of a smaller desk and flipping it with a crash that echoed through the room. The sound was deafening. Papers scattered. A glass hit the ground and exploded. “You let that fuck lay his hands on what’s mine? ”

I stumbled back, but there was nowhere to go. My spine hit the wall. My chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked breaths. He was in front of me now. Inches away.

“Rafe–” I whispered, but my voice broke.

His hand hit the wall beside my head, the sound cracking like a gunshot. His body closed mine in, and his breath was wild and entirely uncontrolled. The veins in his neck bulged. His pupils were blown wide, dark with fury.

“I gave you everything ,” he said, and his voice cracked on the last word like it physically hurt him to speak. “Everything, Dela. My protection. My heart. My fucking soul. And you go to him ?”

Tears welled in my eyes. “I didn’t sleep with him.”

“You wanted to.” He said it like a fact. As sure as a knife embedded into my chest.

“I didn’t–” I started, but then his hand was on me. Rough. Gripping my jaw. Forcing my face up so I had no choice but to look into his furious, betrayed eyes.

His thumb pressed against my bottom lip, shaking. “What else would you have spent time doing?”

“No–Rafe, please.” My voice cracked, but I didn’t know if it was fear or guilt or both. “It was a mistake. I stopped it. I swear to God, I stopped it–”

His grip tightened on my jaw. His other hand caught my wrist and pinned it to the wall above my head. “You think you know what I’ll do for you?” he hissed. “You have no idea. You belong to me, Adela. Not him. Not anyone but me. And if you ever fucking forget that again, I’ll fucking kill you. ”

My heart nearly stopped. I’d never been so scared of him. “I…I know it looks–”

“Walk me through it.” His voice was sharp as broken glass. “ Tell me , Adela...how the fuck did you end up in his house? You spent hours inside with him! And you want me to believe–what? That you just sat and had a lovely little chat? ” His rage was horrifying. It filled the room like smoke.

“You don’t trust me, I get that–” I choked out, my voice barely more than a whisper. How the fuck could I have done this to him? I hated cheaters. And I let myself get caught in a horrible situation. I couldn’t exactly blame the wine…even if I wanted to.

A sharp, bitter laugh burst from him. “Trust you? Trust you? How the fuck am I supposed to trust you when you’re out there with a man who wants me dead? ” He ripped away from me, pacing, his hands running through his hair.

Tears scorched down my cheeks. “It wasn’t like that.”

His fist slammed onto his desk so hard everything on it rattled . “Then tell me what it was like, Adela!”