Page 61 of Monsters Wear Crowns
But then I saw them.
Rafe’s men came into view, concern rippling off them all. Their backs were stiff, faces drawn tight with unease as they stood near the entrance to the garage. Whatever waited beyond that open door was bad enough to make dangerous men nervous.
Lauren strode toward me, giving Rafe a look like she was deciding whether or not to punch him. “You okay to be walking?”
“Yes,” I said, though my voice came out tighter than I wanted. “What’s happening?”
The men shifted uneasily. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a scar down his cheek, turned to Rafe. “We…received a delivery, sir.”
Rafe went still. That terrifying, predatory stillness that said someone was about to die.
“Where?” His voice was calm, and that only made it worse.
Scarface nodded toward the garage. “We moved it. But it was delivered just outside the gate. The truck was fast.”
Rafe’s hand left my waist as he moved forward, and despite the sharp pulse of fear rising in my throat, I followed. Lauren wasright beside me.
We stepped into the garage, and I saw it immediately–the crate sitting in the center of the polished concrete floor. It was big. Too big. The top had already been pried off, and the wood was splintered and rough. I smelled it before I saw it–copper and another smell that made my stomach turn.
Rafe’s men shifted as he approached, moving out of his way like they could feel the storm rolling off of him. He stopped in front of the crate. Looked down.
I heard Lauren’s sharp intake of breath a second before I reached his side and saw what was inside. It was a man–or what was left of one. His face was a ruin, his throat slit wide. Blood soaked his ripped-open suit, but the worst part was his chest. The word was carved deep into the flesh, crude and unmistakable.
DEATH.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t flinch. I forced myself to keep looking, even when my vision threatened to blur. “Who is he?” I asked, my voice low and steady.
“One of mine,” Rafe said, and there was something almost gentle in his tone, the kind of calm that comes right before an explosion. “Must have gotten him at the shipping yard.”
Lauren’s hand gripped my arm. “Adela, you see what I mean? This–this is what I was talking about. He’s dragging you into his war.”
I shook her off. “We’re already in it.”
“Damn right we are,” Rafe said. His eyes found mine, cold and burning at once. “And that fucker just made it personal.”
“What does he want?” I asked.
His jaw tightened. “To break me.”
“And they think coming aftermewill do that? And torturing your men?” I asked, tilting my head. “Seems he doesn't know you very well.”
Something flashed in his eyes. “No,” he murmured.
The room felt like it was on the edge of something, a breathheld just before the fall. The silence became overwhelming. He stood still as stone, his eyes locked on the message carved into the corpse, but I could feel the fury gathering under his skin. And when Rafe Vaughan finally lost control, someone was going to bleed for it.
Lauren shifted beside me. “We need to call the cops,” she said, her voice low.
“No.” Rafe’s answer was immediate, flat. Absolute.
Lauren’s eyes narrowed. “Rafe, this isn’t–”
“No,” he repeated, turning toward her with a slow, measured look that should’ve made her back down. It didn’t, but she didn’t push him, either. “You don’t want the kind of attention they’ll bring. This body disappears. Tonight.”
I swallowed, keeping my own breathing steady. Lauren didn’t understand the world Rafe moved in, not like I did. The police wouldn’t protect us. They’d tear Sinclair Solutions apart, trying to figure outwhymy company was mixed up with a man like Vaughan. And they wouldn’t stop until they had answers. Which...would lead them to all of our shady clients.
“We can’t risk them finding out about our highest-paying clients, Lauren,” I whispered. “We’ll handle it,” I said before she could argue. “Discreetly.”
Rafe’s eyes flicked to mine. I felt it, that heat, that undercurrent of understanding that passed between us too easily. “I knew you’d see reason,” he murmured.
