Page 72 of Monsters Wear Crowns
My skin prickled. “And what’s that?”
“You’re averylovely woman.” He stepped closer, and even Rafe went still. “But the man you’re tying yourself to? He’s poison. He’ll destroyeverythingyou’ve built. And when he’s done, he’ll destroy you, too. This man is incapable of anything close to love...or kindness.”
The room went silent, and I was sure I stopped breathing.
But before I could respond, Rafe moved, and the violence in his eyes was a promise. “You’ve said enough,” he growled.
Moreau only smiled. “Have I? This lovely and powerful woman is practically signing her death by being involved with you. Like a fully bloomed rose crumbling under a scorching sun. She’s aSinclair, afterall.”
The air between them was a goddamn live wire. And I realized, with a sick kind of clarity, that we were standing on the edge of a fucking blade.What did he mean by that?
Moreau tilted his head, his smile sharpening. “Since you’re both here…” He gestured toward the far end of the room, where heavy iron doors swung open. “Why don’t you stay for the show?”
The crowd shifted, murmurs rising like a low hiss.Who even were these people?Rafe’s hand closed around my wrist, his grip like a vice, but I didn’t pull away.
“What kind of show?” I asked, keeping my voice cool despite the unease curling in my gut.
Moreau’s eyes gleamed. “The kind that separates the strong from the weak. The loyal from the…expendable.”
Before I could respond, people began moving toward the doors, and Rafe pulled me with them. His jaw was tight, and his muscles wound. “We shouldn’t be here,” he muttered under his breath.
“Too late for that,” I whispered back.
The room we entered was darker and colder. The walls were lined with flickering torches that seemed to be the only heat source. At the center stood a raised platform, and when the crowd circled around it, I realized what we were about to witness.
A man knelt on the platform, his head bowed, arms bound behind him. Blood streaked his face, his clothes torn and stained. The low hum of anticipation rippled through the room. This wasn’t just a show. It was an execution.
I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding. “What is this?”
Rafe didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the man, his entire body radiating tension.
Moreau’s voice rang out, smooth and chilling. “Betrayal has a cost. And tonight, you’ll see what happens when debts gounpaid.”
The man on the platform lifted his head, and my breath stopped. I recognized him. He was one of Rafe’s men.
“Wha–”
“Hush.” Rafe kept his gaze locked on the man.
The crowd stilled as Moreau approached the platform, a knife glinting in his hand. But he didn’t strike. Not yet. Instead, his eyes found mine. “What would you do,Adela Sinclair, if your empire was threatened? If someone you trusted turned against you?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Moreau smiled. “Would you show mercy? Or would you make an example?”
I felt Rafe’s breath on my ear, his voice low. “Don’t answer him.”
But the crowd was watching. Waiting. And Moreau wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his words a whisper of poison. “Be careful who you stand beside, Adela. Some men are far more dangerous than they seem.”
Before I could react, the knife flashed, and the screaming began.
Rafe’s grip tightened on me as the blood splattered. And when I looked at him, his face was stone, but his eyes burned with the promise of vengeance.
“Rafe–”
He yanked me away from the sight. “We’re going.”
***
