Page 74 of Monsters Wear Crowns
We kept moving.
Heat and unease flooded my chest seeing him like this. The air grew thicker, smoke and sweat and the coppery tang of blood. The warehouse echoed with gunfire and shouted orders, the confusion rising in waves. I stayed at Rafe’s side, firing when I had to, my body humming with every burst of adrenaline.
There was no hesitation when one of Moreau’s men got too close. He lunged from behind a crate, his knife aimed toward me, but I was faster. My gun kicked against my palm, and he went down hard, the knife skittering across the floor.
I stood over him, my breath ragged, my heart thundering.
Rafe’s eyes found mine, dark and burning. “You’re dangerous, mon amour.”
The words sent a different kind of heat through me. But there was no time for that now. The fight wasn’t over. And we weren’t leaving until Moreau’s men knew precisely who they were dealing with. Attacking his warehouse and killing his men was indeed a message. But the real message? That came when we doused the whole place in accelerant. The fire spread fast, greedy and furious, devouring everything.
Rafe pulled me close as the flames climbed into the night sky. His hand was heavy on my waist, his breath warm against my ear. “He’ll know who did this,” he murmured, his voice dark and triumphant. “And he’ll know what’s coming.”
I looked up at him, my blood still pounding. The fire reflected in his icy eyes, and I felt it inside me, too. The heat, the hunger, the rage. “Let him come,” I said. “Fuck him for threatening us.”
Rafe’s fingers tightened on my hip. His smile was pure menace.
“Oh, love,” he whispered. “He will.”
The car sped through the dark streets, the hum of the engine deafening in the silence. My heart was still pounding, my fingers tight around the edge of my seat. The scent of blood clung to me, to both of us, and the adrenaline hadn’t entirely faded yet.
Rafe sat beside me, calm and composed as ever, though a dangerous energy was still rolling off him. His profile was all sharp angles and cold beauty in the dim light. He wiped his blade slowly, the black handkerchief sliding over the steel with meticulous care. Blood streaked the fabric, a symbol of a man’s death. His hands were stained, too, with crimson smudges against his skin. I watched as he cleaned them with the same unhurried patience.
It was insane how relaxed he was after something like that.
“We need more security around Sinclair Solutions,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet. I didn’t bother easing into it. There was no time for subtlety. “I’ll have Laura start hiringimmediately, but I want some of your men, too.”
Rafe didn’t even look up from his task. “Agreed.”
It was too easy. Too quick. I expected more of a fight, and the fact that I didn’t get one only unsettled me more.
“I’m serious, Rafe,” I pressed. “Whatever happens next, Sinclair can’t be vulnerable. We can’t afford it.”
His eyes finally flicked to me, cool and indistinct. “I said I agree.” He folded the soiled handkerchief and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “I’ll send them first thing tomorrow.”
The tension coiled tighter in my chest. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past. The night felt too quiet, too still after what we’d just done. The hushed plains before a horrific tornado.
“When do you think Moreau will retaliate?” I asked quietly.
Rafe’s answer was immediate. “Sooner than you think. He’ll be pissed. There werea lotof drugs in there.”
The certainty in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.
I turned toward him, studying his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint smear of blood still on his throat. He looked like he belonged to the violence we’d just left behind. And maybe he did. Maybe I did, too.
“This is what it is with you two, isn’t it?” I said softly. “Two monsters tearing each other apart.”
He smiled, slow and wicked. “Monsters don’t hide in the shadows, love,” he murmured. “They wear crowns.”
The words hit me so hard I could have sworn I tasted blood. And maybe I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t.
Nah, I was too far gone for that.
***
The water was scalding, and I welcomed it. It hit my skin in a relentless cascade, washing away the blood, sweat and smoke, but not the feeling. Not the way my blood still vibrated with theaftermath of violence, the rush and the fear, and the twisted exhilaration I hadn’t fully shaken.
I pressed my palms against the cool black tile, letting the heat loosen my muscles. My head dipped forward, and I closed my eyes, willing the tension to drain away.
