Page 20 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

As they drag him toward the door, I turn away, leaning against the table and rubbing my temples. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, leaving me with a dull ache behind my eyes. The memory of Adrian’s screams lingers in the room, a stark reminder of what I’ve become.

And then, unbidden, her voice comes to me.

“Wouldn’t it be better to let go of some of it? Your anger.”

Isabella.

I close my eyes, the image of her face flashing in my mind. The softness in her eyes, the quiet strength in her voice. She doesn’t understand this world, doesn’t know what it takes to survive in it. But for some reason, her words stay with me, cutting through the reserved detachment that I’ve spent years perfecting.

For the first time in a long time, I feel a trace of doubt.

Can I end this war without becoming the monster I’ve been fighting against?

The door slams shut behind Nico and Jayden, their heavy footsteps fading into the distance as they haul Adrian out of the warehouse. The sudden silence feels oppressive, pressing against my chest. The faint buzz of the blinking fluorescent lights above is all that’s left to remind me I’m still here, still in control—at least on the surface.

I push off the table, pacing the length of the room. My shoes echo on the cracked concrete, each step a sharp reminder of the choices I’ve made to get here. Choices that have left a trail of bodies, blood, and broken lives.

And yet, it’s not the blood or the violence that weighs on me now—it’s her.

Isabella’s voice cuts through my thoughts again, uninvited but insistent. She doesn’t know what it’s like to stand where I stand, to carry the weight of an empire on your shoulders, knowing that one wrong move could shatter everything.

But still, I wonder. What if she’s right?

The thought feels like a betrayal, like I’m questioning not just my methods but my entire existence. Every decision I’ve made, every line I’ve crossed—it’s all been for a purpose. To protect what’s mine. To end the cycle of betrayal that the Delgado’s started when he took my family from me.

I stop pacing, planting my hands on the edge of the table. The cool metal bites against my palms, grounding me. My reflection stares back at me from the surface of the tarnished steel, distorted and fragmented. Fitting.

Today, I let myself remember. The night Delgado’s men came for us. The chaos. The blood. My brother’s lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. My mother’s sobs as she cradled his broken body, moments before she was taken too. The taste of helplessness so bitter it nearly choked me.

That night changed everything. It hardened me, turned me into the man I am now—a man who doesn’t back down. Because in this world, hesitation is a weakness, and weakness gets you killed.

The door creaks open, and Jayden steps back inside, his expressions veiled as always. “He’s secured,” he says. “What’s the next move, boss?”

I don’t answer right away. My mind is still tangled in thoughts of Isabella, of Adrian’s screams, of the war that seems to stretch endlessly ahead of me. But hesitation isn’t an option. Not here. Not now.

“We hit Pier 12 tomorrow,” I say finally, my voice steady, even as doubt gnaws at the edges of my resolve. “Make sure the crew is ready. I want eyes on every angle of that shipment before it even touches the dock.”

Jayden nods, his obedience automatic. “Understood.”

He turns to leave, but I stop him with a question I hadn’t planned to ask. “Do you ever think there’s another way?”

He pauses, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes narrow slightly, studying me. “Another way to what?”

“To end this.” I gesture vaguely, encompassing everything—the war, the violence, the endless cycle of retribution. “Without all the blood.”

Jayden snorts, a bitter edge to the sound. “You think the Delgado’s are going to sit down for tea and negotiate? This isn’t a game, Dom. It’s survival.”

“I know that,” I snap, more sharply than I intended. I take a breath, trying to steady myself. “But what if survival isn’t enough anymore?”

Jayden’s expression shifts, and I see a glimpse of pity in his eyes. “You’re asking the wrong guy,” he says after a moment. “But if you’re having second thoughts, you’d better figure them out quick. Samuel won’t wait for you to make up your mind.”

He leaves without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I’m alone again, but his words linger, echoing in the emptiness of the warehouse.

Second thoughts.

It’s not about Samuel—that much I know. He’s a snake, a liar, and I’ll never stop until I see him broken and bleeding at my feet. No, the doubts aren’t about him. They’re about me. About who I’m becoming, or maybe who I’ve always been.

I sink into the chair Adrian occupied moments ago, the metal still warm from his body. My hands run over the arms, tracing the grooves and scratches in the surface. How many times have I sat across from men like him, doing whatever it took to get the answers I needed?

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