Page 69 of Monsters Wear Crowns (Crowned Monsters Duet #1)

ADELA

The following day at work breezed by, my mind clouded by thoughts of Rafe.

What were we? I couldn’t be entirely sure.

Any progress we were having in this relationship was snuffed out the night he hurt me.

He was an unhinged criminal, and I…I wasn’t sure how we’d really fit together.

In my dream world, I could have it all. But perhaps Sinclair women weren’t meant to have it all.

Sure, my mother thought she had love, but she had no empire.

And still, she ended up with her brains splattered on a fucking wall.

The text came through just past midnight.

I have a proposition for you. Come alone.

The sender was an unknown number, but I already knew who it was. I stared at the message, my pulse a slow, deliberate thud in my chest. There was no location, no details. I set down my wine glass, straightening on my couch. And then, another text came through.

Your apartment. Ten minutes.

A warning, not a request. My fingers hovered over my phone, my instincts screaming at me to ignore it, to call Rafe, to do anything but entertain this invitation. But instead, I exhaled slowly and typed three words.

I’ll be waiting.

Kieran was still stationed outside my apartment. The thought comforted me as I approached the mailroom, heels clicking against the tile. I swiped my keycard, the lock releasing with a soft beep.

I was barely inside when I saw him. A man I didn’t recognize walked through the lobby like he belonged there.

No hesitation. No glance toward the security cameras.

His confidence was terrifying in its own right because it meant he had no fear of being stopped.

His dark brown eyes flicked to me with intent.

This man with short, messy brown hair definitely wasn’t Moreau, probably because of Kieran.

I wordlessly gestured for him to follow.

We took the elevator in silence. His presence was like an oppressive fog, nearly stifling the air around us. It was an annoying reminder that no matter how high I climbed, there would always be men like Moreau looking to drag me down.

I entered my apartment first, watching him shut the door behind me. Then, with slow precision, he pulled a phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and turned it toward me.

Moreau’s face filled the display, his expression annoyingly smug.

“Miss Sinclair,” he greeted in an amused tone. “You look well.”

“I’d say the same for you, but you’re hiding in the shadows like a coward,” I replied, tilting my head. “You sent one of your goons instead.”

His lips curled. “Always a sharp tongue. Careful, Waylon has a habit of breaking my leash.” I glanced to the man across from me, looking at me like I was a meal to be devoured.

Moreau’s tone was light, but then he exhaled as if tired of the small talk.

“Let’s not waste time. I have something to discuss with you.

Something that may determine whether you live to see the next month. ”

Waylon shifted slightly, just enough to remind me he was still there. Yeah, I got it, asshole.

I folded my arms. “Get to the point.”

Moreau’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Very well. Let’s start with this.

I have explosives planted near Sinclair Solutions.

A call from me, and they go off. You’d never know when.

Never know where. But it wouldn’t just be your business that burned, Adela.

” His voice softened. “It would be your people, too.”

My blood went cold.

Moreau leaned in, an infuriating smirk on his beautiful face.

“I also have access to people on your payroll. People who would gladly slit a throat for the right price. Tell me, what do you think will happen when the police get involved? When they start investigating those poor, unfortunate casualties?” His gaze darkened.

“I have your employees’ names. Every single one. ”

A muscle in my jaw twitched.

Laura .

I didn’t react, but he saw the flicker of something in my eyes.

His smirk widened. “Ah, yes. Your dear friend.” He sighed, feigning sympathy. “It would be a shame if something happened to her, wouldn’t it? Waylon has a thing for blondes. Not to mention, ties to a very prominent trafficking organization.”

My nails dug into my palms, rage creeping under my skin.

Waylon grinned like a fucking cat. “I possess more power than you think, babe.”

I bristled at the sound of his voice.

“I could make all of that disappear,” Moreau continued. “The threats, the danger. I could leave you alone entirely .” He leaned forward, voice dipping to something almost intimate. “Better yet–I could make you richer than you ever dreamed.”

My stomach twisted.

“If you help me take down Vaughan, your empire will be untouchable .” His smile was all teeth. “I am not entirely sure what he is offering you, but I will strengthen your empire.”

I inhaled slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. “And what’s the catch?”

Moreau chuckled. “No catch, darling. Just a decision.”

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding.

“You think Rafe will keep you safe?” he mused, tilting his head. “I know what he did to you.”

The room suddenly felt too fucking small.

“He pinned you down in his office.” His voice was almost a whisper. “Raped you. Took what he wanted without giving a goddamn shit how you cried and fought.”

My chest tightened, my pulse hammering like a war drum.

I hated more than anything that he could use that against me.

Because it was fucked up. And a part of me did feel like a fool, allowing Rafe to touch me anymore.

I heard a satisfied sound, and I looked up to see Waylon biting his lip.

Like…he enjoyed hearing about my nightmare.

“Men like him don’t protect , Adela.” Moreau’s voice was silk over a blade. “They destroy . And when he falls, you will fall with him.”

I squeezed my eyes shut for half a second.

“He’s already unraveling,” Moreau said. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The madness creeping in. The recklessness. Paranoia. His self-destruction is inevitable. It’s hereditary .” He exhaled. “And when he goes up in flames, you will burn alive beside him. Or under him.”

I swallowed hard, hating how much truth sat in his words.

“I don’t enjoy forcing anyone’s hand,” he murmured. “Unlike Rafe, I won’t pin you down. Or allow any of my men to do so.” A slow, taunting smirk. “I just need you to see reason.”

“Wonderful,” I mumbled, my gaze darting up to meet the asshole in front of me. “Then muzzle your fucking dog.”

“I am not one of his men,” Waylon grinned. “I’m a friend with mutual interests.”

Silence stretched between us. I picked up on a subtle accent from the man. Perhaps London? Blowing out a breath, I returned my focus to Moreau, feeling the weight of my next words. “What do you need me to do?”

** *

RAFE

I couldn’t keep my fucking head straight.

She hadn’t spoken to me since the night on the balcony.

Since I’d fucked her so hard, the sky should’ve cracked open.

It wasn’t like her to be overly communicative afterward, but something had shifted between us.

I felt it. That wasn’t just sex. It was something raw and real.

Like our souls had collided and shattered together.

But now? Silence. No call. No text. Not even a goddamn breadcrumb. It was driving me out of my mind. Kieran hadn't seen her today, and I didn't like that one fucking bit.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles white as I turned down a narrow side street. The silence pressed in around me like an eerie goddamn warning, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose, prickling with instinct.

That’s when the headlights snapped on.

One.

Two.

Three.

Vehicles appeared from nowhere, blocking me in at both ends.

My stomach clenched. Fuck. I reached for my gun just as the first impact slammed into my side.

The car groaned under the force, metal screeching, windows exploding into glittering shards.

My head whipped violently to the side, pain lancing through my skull.

They came out of the shadows like fucking phantoms. They were fast, brutal, and coordinated. I managed to raise my weapon, squeezing off two shots. One man dropped like a sack of bricks. The second staggered back with a bullet in his shoulder. But it wasn’t enough.

Arms wrapped around me like a vice. A punch to my ribs knocked the breath from my lungs. Another clipped my jaw, splitting the skin. I slammed the butt of my gun into someone’s temple, earning a satisfying crunch before they swarmed me again.

A knee to my spine.

A boot to my gut.

A fucking gun pressed to my throat.

My vision blurred as blood filled my mouth, hot and metallic. But I didn’t go down easy. I fought like the bastard I am. I snarled and twisted free of one grip, only to be caught in another. I took one man down with my elbow and heard the crack of his nose breaking. Someone screamed. Good .

But they just kept coming. These weren’t low-level punks. These were trained. Precise. This wasn’t a warning–it was a fucking extraction.

The next boot caught my ribs. Then another, and another. My body folded, coughing red onto the pavement. My fingers scraped at the ground, at anything I could use as leverage. But they were done playing. Darkness clawed at the edges of my vision, hot and suffocating.

“He’s still awake,” one of them said, a cruel edge in his voice.

Another chuckled, colder. “Good. Boss wants him conscious.”

I was yanked upright, arms pinned painfully behind me. My legs barely held, blood dribbling from my mouth, mixing with the grime on the concrete.

They shoved me toward one of the SUVs. My skull slammed against the doorframe hard enough to spark white behind my eyes. Then metal clicked tight around my wrists–handcuffs, not rope. Smart fuckers.