Page 94 of Monsters Wear Crowns
“Rafael, what is it?”
I watched his face, my blood turning cold when his eyes widened.
“That’s not possible,” he ground out. “Fuck!” he smashed the steering wheel, startling me. “Please keep me updated. We just got to the Orchard house. Okay, bye.” He hung up, putting the car in park. I realized we were suddenly in front of a large, beautiful stone cottage with a wooden front porch.
“What happened?” I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt.
Rafe sighed heavily, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel. “Rafael said that they lost sight of Moreau.”
I inhaled sharply. “Do you think I need to call Laura?”
He nodded. “Might as well give her a head’s up. Ensure security is strong until we can find him again.”
He was barely finished with his sentence before I was already calling Laura.
***
The night smelled like rain, and the air inside the safe housefelt cozy and warm. I sat on the edge of a worn leather chair, my fingers tapping against my thigh in a rhythm I couldn’t stop. Rafe was pacing, his movements restless and tight, his jaw set in a way that made my stomach twist. He hadn’t spoken much since I’d gotten off the phone with Laura, and the silence was suffocating.
“I don’t like waiting,” I finally said, my voice thin with frustration.
Rafe didn’t stop. “Neither do I.”
He looked…scary. More so than usual, and that was saying something. I watched him run a hand through his hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing under his rolled-up sleeves. His gun sat on the table between us, gleaming under the low light, and the sight of it only made my pulse pound harder.
When the door finally opened, I almost jumped. Vincent stepped inside, rain dripping from his coat, his expression tight. But something was off. I felt it the second his eyes met Rafe’s.
“Tell me you have something,” Rafe said, his voice low and razor-sharp.
Vincent nodded. “I do. But there’s something...”
The air shifted. Rafe went still, and the hair on the back of my neck rose. “What’s going on, Vince?”
Vincent’s eyes flicked to me. “Just know that–that I’m–”
The window shattered.
Everything happened at once–glass exploding, the crack of gunfire, Rafe slamming into me and dragging me to the ground. My heart thundered in my chest as the room erupted in chaos. I reached for my gun, but Rafe was already moving, his body a wall of heat and strength above me.
“Stay down,” he ordered, his voice a growl.
But I didn’t listen. I never did. I pushed up, gun in hand, and saw them–Moreau’s men flooding into the room like a black tide. And then I saw Vincent standing completely still.
Not fighting.
Not running.
Just…watching.
My stomach dropped.
“Vincent,” Rafe barked. “Get the hell over here.”
But Vincent didn’t move. And when he finally spoke, his voice was hollow. “I’m sorry.”
The betrayal hit like a physical blow. Rafe froze beside me, his face going blank in that terrifying way I’d come to recognize. But his eyes, his eyes burned.
“What did he offer you?” Rafe’s voice was pure ice. “How much was my blood worth, Vince?”
