Page 121 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“That’s because it’s low profile,” Kieran said simply, drying his hands with a dish towel. “If there were any concerns, trust me, he’d have multiple cars, full escort. He drove himself.”
That made me pause. I tapped my manicured French-tipped nails against the cool marble countertop. “So…not dangerous?”
Kieran shook his head. “Not a direct threat.”
That phrasing didn’t go unnoticed. I tilted my head. “So, itcouldbe dangerous?”
He sighed, turning to face me fully. “Look, Adela. Rafe has his own way of handling business. He wouldn’t have left if he thought it was something you needed to worry about. He knows what he’s doing.”
I pursed my lips.
Kieran studied me for a second before shaking his head with a small laugh. “You don’t like not knowing things, do you?”
I shot him a flat look. “Doyou?”
His smirk widened, but he didn’t answer.
I sighed, setting my glass down. “Fine. I’ll ask him when he gets back.”
Kieran gave me a knowing look. “That’s the move,boss.”
I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t ignore the lingering curiosity in my chest. Because no matter how safe Kieran insisted it was,I wanted to know.
***
RAFE
The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, a grotesque smell. It was always the same in these fucking warehouses. The cold concrete. The sound of dripping. The smell of copper and sweat and fear. But tonight, it grated harder than usual.
Because I didn’t want to be here.
I wanted to be home.
Withher.
But instead, I stood in the center of one of my warehouses on the outskirts of the city, sleeves rolled, knuckles bloodied, a man trembling in the chair before me.
Victor Caldez.Thirty-six. Arms dealer. Loyal to Moreau. He’d been feeding intel to the wrong side, whispering secrets through burner phones, selling off weapons meant formyclients, and he’d pocketed cash from a shipment that went sideways last week.
Five of my men were dead because of him.
He’d begged at first. Swore it was a mistake. Blamed it on a cousin. A girlfriend. Anyone but himself. But I didn’t give a fuck about his stories. I only wanted the truth. And when that didn’t come fast enough, I made him bleed. His hands were broken. His left eye swollen shut. His lip split and oozing. The chair creaked under his weight, every limb trembling as blood dripped onto the floor beneath him in slow, rhythmic drops.
“You know what I hate, Victor?” I asked, pacing slowly, letting the sound of my boots echo through the space. “I hate being pulled away from my girl to clean up the messes of little rats who think they’re smart enough to play both sides.”
He coughed, blood spattering across his chin. “I… I didn’t–”
I hit him again. Hard.
The bone in his nose cracked under my fist, and his head snapped back with a sickening thud. My jaw tensed. He wasn’t even worth this much energy. But rage simmered in my veins because, for the first time in years, I hadsomething good.I hadsomeone good.And I didn’t have time for traitors or games or fucking distractions.
“You got five of my men killed,” I growled, grabbing his shirt and dragging him forward. “You tried to steal from me. Frommyempire.” I pressed the knife to his neck. “I see you’re about goddamn useless. You wasted my fucking night.” Rage barreled through me, my limbs trembling from the impending kill.
He whimpered, but I didn’t hesitate. The blade draggedacross his throat in one smooth, final motion. Warm blood gushed over my hands. His body convulsed once, then went limp.
I exhaled, slow and steady, wiping the blade clean as I stepped back.
No satisfaction. No thrill. Just silence.
