Page 59 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

He smiled, and it wasn’t the kind of smile you wanted to see in a place like this. “I’m simply here to deliver a message.”

Every instinct screamed at me not to listen. To shoot first and never ask questions. But I held still. Barely .

“Moreau is becoming impatient,” the man said, his eyes never leaving mine.

“And he still wants you on his side and won’t take no for an answer.

The only way you will deny him is if you’re dead beside your.

..beloved. Who you likely want dead anyway, according to what I saw him do to you last night. Right through his office window.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. The ground was still shaking. The air was still full of gunfire. And somehow, none of that was as loud as the silence that followed his words.

I kept my face neutral, even as my pulse raced. “Tell him he’s wasting his time.”

The man’s smile widened, slow and taunting. “We’ll see about that. You’re beautiful, powerful, and fascinating. My boss wants you.” He paused, laughing. “And he wouldn’t ever hurt you like that. Neither would I.” His eyes swept over me in a way that oozed lust.

And then he was gone, slipping back into the smoke and shadows before I could react. But his words stayed behind. They stayed, and they burned.

I remained frozen for a breath too long, his words echoing in my head.

Moreau is becoming impatient.

I heard the rapid pop of gunfire and the shouts of Rafe’s men. But it felt far away, blurred behind the rush of blood in my ears. He saw what Rafe did to me. I needed to move.

I pushed forward, my steps fast and silent, slipping through the chaos like a shadow. My fingers tightened on the gun as I cleared each hallway, but the house was a battlefield now. I passed one of Rafe’s men slumped against the wall, blood painting the marble beneath him. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t .

The estate’s east wing loomed ahead, and that’s when I heard Rafe’s voice. Barking orders. Furious. Alive .

Relief hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

I followed the sound, slipping through a side door into one of the main corridors, and stopped short.

Rafe stood at the end of the hall, his back to me, but I could feel the rage rolling off him in waves.

His gun was raised, his stance tight like a predator about to lunge.

He wasn’t alone.

Three of Moreau’s men faced him, their weapons lowered, but there was no mistaking the threat in the air.

“Leave my fucking house, now ,” he growled. “What are you trying to accomplish? Overwhelming my men?”

One of them smiled. “You’re surrounded, Vaughan. You don’t get to give orders.”

“I always give orders,” Rafe snapped back. “And I don’t repeat myself.”

The tension stretched tight, and then everything happened at once.

Another shot cracked through the corridor.

I didn’t wait. I raised my pistol and fired, dropping one of Moreau’s men before he could even react.

The others turned, and Rafe moved with the kind of speed that was almost inhuman.

Two more shots–one from him, one from me–and the room fell silent.

Rafe spun toward me, his eyes flashing with something wild that barely softened when they landed on me. “Are you hurt?” His voice was low and rough, his gaze raking over me like he needed to see for himself.

“I’m fine,” I said. I was. Physically, at least.

But before I could say more, the estate’s alarm system wailed to life–a high, keening sound that made my stomach drop.

“They’ve breached the grounds,” Rafe bit out, already moving. “We need to get to the security room.”

I followed without question. We moved through the twisting halls, and I could feel the weight of the fight pressing down on the house. The walls shook with distant explosions, and the scent of fire was getting stronger.

“Are they bombing this place?” I asked, my voice shooting up an octave.

“Must be grenades,” he muttered. “I’m going to skin that fucking man alive for targeting my house.”

But my mind was still tangled with the words I’d been told.

Moreau is becoming impatient. And he still wants you on his side.

I didn’t know how.

The security room was in chaos when we arrived.

Rafe’s men were crowded around the monitors, shouting over one another.

The screens flickered with live feeds from the estate.

My stomach twisted when I saw how many of Moreau’s people had gotten through the outer defenses.

Rafe had around forty men. And I was seeing at least fifty of Moreau’s. It was a mini goddamn war.

“Status,” Rafe snapped.

One of his men–Dominic–turned, his face pale beneath the streaks of blood. “West perimeter’s breached. We’re holding the south side, but they’ve got numbers, boss.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Pull everyone we can spare to reinforce the south. If they break through there–”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. The monitors flickered, and then every single one went black. The room froze.

“Get them back online,” Rafe ordered. But before anyone could move, one of the monitors flared back to life. Only one.

And it wasn’t showing the estate.

It was showing a video.

My breath snagged like a thread being ripped from my lungs. Static danced for half a second, then cleared. And there we were.

Moreau and I on his couch with a bottle of wine sweating on the coffee table before us. My gaze focused on his. His hand moved up my thigh while I shifted away from him. It cut out immediately, and then repeated itself.

My veins turned to fucking ice. The room disappeared. The walls, the flickering lights, and even the distant echo of gunfire outside all faded into a muffled hum beneath the roaring in my ears.

Rafe didn’t speak.

He didn’t blink .

He just stilled as if someone had pressed pause on his body, leaving only the fury flickering in his eyes. The gunfire outside kept popping off, a staccato rhythm of the fight, but the silence in this room was somehow louder.

My voice wouldn’t come. I couldn’t make a single sound. My mouth opened, but no words made it past the choking knot in my throat.

He kept staring at the screen.

Watching me –with his enemy.

I shifted, realizing how hard my body was trembling, watching me betray the man I loved. One thing suddenly became brutally clear:

This wasn’t just an attack on Rafe’s estate. It was an attack on us.

And judging by the look on his face…

It was working.

Rafe’s jaw clenched so tight I heard the grind of his teeth. His fists curled at his sides, knuckles blanched, shoulders heaving with a breath he didn’t take. The video kept playing, and his eyes didn’t leave it.

“Rafe…” My voice was barely a whisper, but it scraped out of me like glass. “I pulled away! You can see that right fucking there.”

Rafe turned slowly, like his body had to fight itself to move.

His eyes locked on mine, and the depth of cold in them made my stomach twist. They were blue fire, frozen and burning at the same time.

“I am watching his hand move up your thigh. I’m watching you let him.

” That quiet, controlled fury was almost worse than his screaming.

Outside, the gunfire kept going. But here, in this room, the war was already raging.

“I didn’t know he was recording it,” I said. “I didn’t think he–”

“Didn’t think he’d what?” Rafe stepped forward. “ Use it? Weaponize it? Of course, he did. That’s what he does. ” His lip curled, bitter and furious. “And you gave him the ammunition. ”

I flinched. “I made a mistake,” I said. “And I feel sick over it. I hate myself for it.”

“Good.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Because I hate you, too.”

I felt like I’d been slapped.

No– shot.

But I didn’t cry. I refused. I made myself stand up straighter, even though my limbs still ached and the shame burned so deep I could barely breathe.

“You think I don’t know what he’s doing?

” I said, my voice shaking with something halfway between grief and defiance.

“He’s trying harder than ever to break us apart. He knows we’re stronger together.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to believe me or put a bullet through the wall.

“Stronger?” he asked, stepping closer. “Tell me, Adela… did you feel strong when his hands were on you?”

“Don’t do that,” I snapped, tears prickling behind my eyes. “Don’t stand there and act like you haven’t hurt me too.”

“I never touched anyone else.” His voice dropped to a guttural rasp, and now I saw the fracture underneath all the rage. That wound he was trying so hard to cauterize with violence. “Not once. I never even wanted to.”

“I'm so sorry,” I whispered.

His breath hissed out between his teeth.

“Moreau’s not going to stop,” I added. “He wants us to fall apart so he can sweep in and take everything. And I gave him exactly what he needed. He’s hoping you’ll finish what your father started.” The words landed like a stab wound to the gut.

Rafe froze.

For a long moment, the room was utterly silent. Then his voice came, low and ragged. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.” I took a step closer, my hands shaking, but I didn’t stop. “Moreau wants you to kill me. Just like your father killed my mother. I bet that’s what this is. If you lost your shit and killed me, you’d be destroyed. And he’d finish you off.”

He didn’t move. And when he finally spoke, his voice was a broken whisper. “I’m not my father.”

“Aren’t you?” I shot back. “Because right now, you’re looking at me like you’re trying to decide if I deserve to live.”

That did it.

The storm broke.

Rafe moved fast, and suddenly, his hands were on me, shoving me back against the nearest wall.

I gasped, but there was no fear this time.

Not when I saw how his face twisted. Not with rage, but pain.

“ Don’t ,” he snarled. “Don’t you ever compare me to him.

” He turned from me and suddenly exploded, grabbing the nearest monitor and smashing it against the wall.

The screen cracked in his fists, sparks spitting out as glass shattered.

He didn’t stop.

Another monitor. Then another. His men tried to intervene, but one look from him sent them scattering like ghosts.

I stepped forward carefully. “Rafe…”

He turned back to me, chest heaving, blood running down his hand from the broken screen. But his eyes–his eyes weren’t just angry now.

They were devastated .

“Tell me it meant nothing,” he said. “Lie to me if you have to. Because if it meant anything, I swear to God, Adela…”

I reached for him without thinking. “What? You’ll be a big man and rape me again?”

He looked down at me, jaw clenched, blood dripping from his palm onto the marble floor. “I don’t trust you,” he said quietly. “Not right now.”

I nodded, swallowing the burn in my throat. “I don’t trust you, either.”

He hesitated, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “But if I lose you,” he said quietly. “I’ll burn the whole fucking world down.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. For a long moment, he just stared at me, and then the fight bled out of him all at once. His forehead dropped to mine, his body still shuddering with the effort of holding himself together. But the words were still there between us, sharp, ugly, and bleeding.

Just like your father killed my mother.

And in a rare moment, I saw real fear in Rafe Vaughan’s eyes. But before either of us could speak, the estate shook with another explosion. And this time, the walls cracked.

The house groaned around us, dust falling from the ceiling as the force of the blast rattled the estate again.

For one terrifying second, I thought the whole place would come down on top of us.

Rafe snapped back into focus first. He wrenched away from me, barking orders to his men as they scrambled to regain control.

I stayed where I was, my back pressed against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

But my eyes never left him.

He was a man on the edge–pacing, furious, his voice clipped and savage as he issued commands.

But there was something else underneath it.

That fear I’d seen just moments before hadn’t gone away.

And I knew whatever was happening right now, it wasn’t just Moreau’s attack that had him so close to breaking. It was me.

“Get them to the east perimeter,” Rafe said, his voice like a whip. “I want every entrance locked down and find out how the hell they got this close without anyone noticing.”

***

The silence after the gunfire was deafening. The house still stood, but the walls felt different–like they were holding their breath. The air smelled of smoke and blood, and though Moreau’s men had finally retreated, the damage was done.

I stood in the middle of the destroyed security room, arms wrapped around myself, listening to the distant sound of Rafe’s men clearing the grounds. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since the first explosion. But it wasn’t the attack that had me shaking. It was him.

Rafe stood by the window, his back to me, speaking in low, clipped tones into his phone. I watched the tension ripple through his shoulders–his voice was calm and controlled, but his body told a different story.

When he finally ended the call, the room fell into heavy silence. I waited, gathering my courage, until he turned to face me. His dark eyes softened when they met mine. But there was still a dangerous edge in them.

“Moreau’s men are pulling back,” he said quietly. “For now.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. We had just exchanged heavy words.

He took a step toward me. “You should rest–”

“No.” My voice cracked, and I forced myself to stand straighter. “Rafe, we need to talk.”