Page 53 of Monsters Wear Crowns
This was perilous. I knew it. But I followed him anyway.
The wind whipped at my hair as we approached the helicopter, the low thrum of the blades vibrating through the air. He walked ahead of me like he owned the world. Maybe he did, in his own way. Power clung to him, effortless and destructive.
The pilot nodded at him in silent acknowledgment, and when Rafe offered me his hand to help me up, I hesitated just for a second.
“You’re sure about this?” I asked, my voice low.
His eyes flashed with amusement. “No, love.But we’re going anyway.”
I took his hand and settled into the plush leather seat beside him. The helicopter lifted smoothly into the night sky, and the lights of the city sprawled out below us like a glittering sea. I tried to focus on the view, but his presence made it nearly impossible.
“Where are we going?” I asked after a long silence.
He turned his head toward me, his mouth curving in that slow smile. “Shipping yard.”
“You’re not concerned with being intercepted?” I asked casually, though my stomach twisted slightly.
“Not entirely,” he admitted, his hand landing on my knee.
“That’s reassuring.”
He chuckled, nudging me playfully. And my heart did a little flip when he did.
The helicopter began to descend, and my gaze swept over the shipping yard. It was filled with cranes, containers, and floodlights painting the night in cold gold.
Rafe’s world.
The helicopter touched down softly, and the door opened. A man was already waiting at the edge of the landing pad–tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in dark clothes. He nodded respectfully when Rafe stepped out first.
“Everything’s ready,” the man said. His voice was low and clipped.
Rafe turned, offering me his hand again. “Stay close.”
For once, I didn’t argue.
As we moved toward the heart of the shipping yard, the air grew heavier. The scent of salt and metal filled my lungs, and the sound of heavy machinery echoed around us. But it wasn’t the environment putting me on edge. It was the men. They watched Rafe like he was their king–and I realized, with a jolt, that was precisely what he was. He commanded this place without saying a word. And when their eyes slid to me, I felt it: the question.
Who the hell was I?
I kept my chin high, my steps even. Let them wonder. Let them watch. Rafe led me deeper into the maze of shipping containers, the air thick with salt and rust. Every footstep echoed in the vast, open yard, the silence pressing in too tight. Ahead, a man waited beside a container, his stance rigid, his hand resting near the gun on his waist. My pulse ticked up, but I kept my expression casual.
Rafe gave him a single nod. “Open it.” The heavy metal doors groaned as they swung wide, revealing the cargo inside. My breath stalled.
Weapons. Rows of them.
Another container.
Drugs.
Shadows poured over the stacked crates, each marked with codes I didn’t recognize but understood well enough. Rifles. Ammunition. Tactical gear. Enough to arm a small army. And get them fucking high as shit.
I swallowed hard. “Jesus, Rafe–”
“You wanted to see my business.” His voice was smooth, unaffected. “This is part of it.”
Before I could respond, a burst of static crackled over the man’s radio. “We’ve got company, boss.”
Rafe’s body went still, his head tilting slightly. Listening. Calculating. “How many?” he asked, his voice quiet and controlled.
