Page 26 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

The words hit me harder than I expect, knocking the wind from my lungs.

She doesn’t waver. Her lips press together like she’s bracing for a fight, like she’s prepared to battle me on this.

A part of me knows she cares.

And that terrifies me.

I exhale slowly, dragging a hand down my face, trying to push down the anger, the frustration—the fucking fear threatening to drown me.

This is my world. Not hers.

And if I lose her to it—if she dies because of me—

No.

I can’t let that happen.

“You want to stay?” My voice is commanding, final. “Then you listen to every word I say, and you don’t fucking move unless I tell you to.”

Her throat bobs, and for the first time, I see it—the fear.

Not for herself.

For me.

She nods, and I don’t waste another second. My fingers tighten around her wrist as I pull her forward, forcing her to keep up with my strides.

If she won’t leave, then I’ll make damn sure she survives.

Charles, Jayden, Nico, and the rest of my crew disappear into the shadows as we approach the pier, their movements silent, controlled. Years of discipline and violence have sharpened them into ghosts, men who know how to slip through the darkness unseen, unheard. They don’t need orders to understand what tonight means. Their expressions are grim, carved from stone, and though none of them say it, everyone can feel the weight of what’s about to come.

The dockyard stretches wide before us, an industrial wasteland of rusted shipping containers, towering cranes, and skeletal buildings half-swallowed by the night.

Something feels off.

I don’t know what it is yet, but my instincts are sharp, honed from years of surviving betrayals and backstabs. And right now? My gut is screaming.

I tighten my grip on Isabella’s wrist. She’s been quiet since we arrived, but I don’t need to look at her to feel the way her pulse races against my palm.

She’s terrified.

Good.

The shadows shift beside me, and Charles steps forward. His sharp gaze flicks between me and Isabella before settling on me, hard as steel. He doesn’t need to say it—I already know what he’s thinking.

I wait for him to say it out loud.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it. He’s not just pissed—he’s incredulous.

I grind my teeth. “Long story.”

From the corner of my eye, I catch the quick exchange of glances between Charles and Nico. A silent conversation passing between them, one I recognize all too well.

That look.

The one that says he’s lost it.

The one that says this is reckless, even for him.

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