Page 27 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

And maybe they’re right.

Maybe I have lost it.

Bringing Isabella here? Reckless.

Keeping her at my side? Suicidal.

But leaving her behind? Letting her slip away into the dark, where I can’t see her, can’t protect her?

Not a fucking chance.

Charles mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t argue. He knows better than to waste his breath when my mind is made up.

I scan the pier, my fingers itching for the weight of my gun. The canvas in my other hand feels almost out of place, but I don’t let it go.

The painting shouldn’t matter.

But it does.

It’s not just some piece of art.

It’s a symbol.

A reminder of what was stolen from me. What I’m here to reclaim.

I take a steady breath, forcing my mind back to the task at hand. Focus.

“Fan out,” I order, my voice cutting through the silence. “I want eyes on every entrance, every possible ambush point. We’re not walking into this blind.”

Nico nods once, then vanishes into the maze of shipping containers, moving like a shadow. Jayden takes position near the water, keeping his line of sight clear.

But Charles doesn’t move.

He lingers, his presence heavy beside me. I don’t need to look at him to know what’s coming next.

Doubt.

He exhales sharply, then speaks. “Dom…” His tone is lower now, careful. “What if Adrian was lying?”

“He wasn’t.”

“You sound sure.”

“I am.”

Charles lets out a slow breath, his fingers flexing at his sides. “And if this is a fucking trap?”

I keep my eyes on the pier, on the darkness ahead, on the unseen danger waiting in the shadows.

“Then we fight our way out.”

The moment we step onto the pier, the night detonates around us.

Gunfire rips through the dead air, a deafening cacophony of violence. Bullets slice through the air with a deadly whine, ricocheting off rusted metal and splintering wood. The world becomes chaos, a battleground carved from darkness and fire.

I move on instinct.

I yank Isabella against me, my grip iron-tight as I spin us behind a stack of shipping crates just as a spray of bullets tears through the air where we had just stood. The wooden crates shudder under the assault, sharp splinters exploding outward as rounds punch through the fragile barrier.

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