Page 98 of Monsters Wear Crowns
The smile slipped, just a fraction. “I’m offering you a way out,” he said. “Before you end up collateral damage.”
“Not interested.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then smiled again. “Oh, Miss Sinclair,” he murmured. “You will be, I promise you that.”
“Why are you so confident?”
“Because I know his history with Sinclair women. He’ll destroy you, just like your mother.”
It was a stab to my gut. I opened and closed my mouth, unsure of how the fuck to react to that. And then he left, but not before giving me a final, lingering look.
He allowed about fifteen minutes to pass while I sat there in silence, stewing over what he had said. Before I spiraled too hard, the door slammed open. Rafe stood there, framed in the dim light of the hallway, and the sight of him sent my heart into my throat. He looked…wrecked.Not just physically, but also in his eyes. A wildness, a cold, fractured rage I hadn’t seen before. His black shirt was rumpled, his hands still smeared with blood–Vincent’s blood–and his chest rose and fell with ragged breaths.
He stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a slow, controlled click.
“Rafe–”
“Did he touch you?” His voice was wild. He didn’t move from the door.
“No.” My voice shook despite myself. “He talked. He–”
“What did he say?” His eyes locked on me like a predator scenting blood.
I swallowed. “He tried to turn me against you.”
The air went razor-sharp.
“And?” he asked softly. The way he asked it, like he wasn’t sure of the answer, hurt more than I wanted it to.
I stood up slowly. “And I told him to go to hell.”
That wildness in his eyes didn’t ease. It stayed coiled tight, dangerous, like he didn’t know where to aim it. Like he was ready to destroy anything that got in his way–even me.
“Rafe, talk to me,” I said, stepping toward him. “What did they do to you? Vincent–”
“Is dead.” His voice was flat. “Because he was weak.”
My throat tightened. “He was your friend.”
“No.” Rafe’s mouth twisted into something bitter and cold. “He was a liability.” The words cut through me like a knife. If his closest friend could be seen as a liability,could I be, too?
“This isn’t you,” I whispered.
His eyes flashed. “You think you know me so well, Adela?” He stalked forward, closing the distance between us.
My breath caught. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re hurting–”
“I don’t hurt,” he snarled. “Not for people who betray me.”
“Then why are you like this?” I demanded, stepping into his space. “Why won’t you just let me in?”
His jaw clenched, the muscles jumping. “Because there’s nothing to let in, Adela. This is who I am. This–” His hand jerked toward the blood on his shirt. “This iswhatI am. And you’d do well to fucking remember it.”
I stared up at him, my heart thundering. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then you’re a goddamn fool.”
“Maybe I am,” I whispered. “But I’m not afraid of you.”
