Page 55 of Monsters Wear Crowns
But my body told a different story. My hands were shaking, and adrenaline made me lightheaded. I hated feeling this vulnerable and hated that he was seeing it.
Rafe tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You scared?”
“No,” I lied.
He smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You should be.”
Before I could respond, more shots echoed in the distance, and the calm fell away from his face like a mask.
“Be careful,” he said, his grip tightening on my hand.
We moved fast, weaving between the containers, the sounds of the firefight growing louder. His men were already engaged, but he didn’t hesitate. He fired without breaking stride, his presence a steady, terrifying force. I should have brought my fucking gun. How did I forget the damn thing?
Another bullet ricocheted off the shipping container behind me, and Rafe yanked me against him and around the corner. His muscular arm tightened around me, and I could feel his heartbeat.
Surprisingly steady.
Was he not...scared?
I definitely felt it. But this wasn’t my world, and I knew it the second a figure stepped from the shadows behind us.
“Rafe!” I warned, but the man was already raising his weapon.
I didn’t think. Iacted.
I lunged, slamming my body into Rafe’s, sending us both sprawling just as the shot exploded through the air.
We hit the ground hard, his weight crushing me for an instant before he rolled, his gun already firing as he tucked mebeneath him.
The man dropped, but the damage was done.
“Adela,” Rafe’s voice was sharp, his hands already on me. “Where–”
I winced as his fingers brushed my side, and when I looked down, I saw the crimson bloom spreading across my dress.
“Shit,” I muttered.
His face changed. The calm shattered, and for the first time, I saw it–fear. “You’re okay,” he said, but there was a razor’s edge to his voice. “You’re going to be okay.”
I wanted to believe him. But when my knees buckled when I tried to stand and his arms wrapped around me, all I could think was how cold the night suddenly felt.
The night erupted into a bloodbath after a man almost killed Rafe. His men emerged from the shadows like wraiths, all dressed in black, moving with the kind of lethal efficiency that only came with experience. They shot like snipers, and the remaining threats fell one by one.
I tried to stay on my feet, but the pain in my side was a cold, searing thing, stealing my strength. Rafe’s arm stayed locked around me, keeping me upright, his gun still raised and his eyes scanning the yard.
“Clear!” one of the men called. The silence that followed was deafening. Rafe didn’t relax. His grip on me was iron-tight, his pulse a steady thrum where his wrist brushed my skin.
Only then did his heartbeat seem to quicken.
“You okay, boss?” one of the men asked, his face half-hidden behind a black mask.
“No,” Rafe bit out. His eyes were still on me. “We need the car.Now.”
“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice lacked the strength I wanted. “It’s just a–”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Rafe growled. “You’re bleeding, Adela.”
As if to prove his point, my knees buckled again. He caught me before I hit the ground, lifting me against his chest like I weighed nothing. I hated the weakness. Hated needing him like this. But I didn’t pull away when his scent wrapped around me–that mix of smoke, cedar, and danger.
