Page 41 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

My painting.

The rose. The river. The delicate petals caught in the rush of dark waters. The piece of me that never should’ve left my studio, let alone ended up on display in Dominic’s damn library like some prized possession.

It’s propped on an easel near the window, where the last remnants of sunlight filter through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks over the canvas. It looks almost unreal in this space, a vivid contrast to the dark, imposing decor of the room. But all I see is a violation.

A cold feeling sinks into my chest.

Why is it here?

And why is it about to be sold?

I take a step forward, unable to stop myself, drawn to the painting like it’s the only thing tethering me in this moment. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to grab it, to take it away before they can twist it into something it was never meant to be.

Dominic watches me heatedly.

Oliver studies me, intrigued.

I inhale sharply, tearing my gaze away from the painting to glare at Dominic. “Explain. Now.”

His lips twitch slightly—almost like he was expecting this reaction, like he was waiting for it. “We’re hosting an auction in two days.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t care that you’re selling my painting?”

“I thought you’d care more about why.”

Oliver chimes in, stepping forward slightly, hands clasped in front of him like he’s about to discuss business over a glass of wine. “The original painting—the one your work is inspired by—is an object of obsession for a very particular man.”

My stomach twists.

Samuel.

Dominic doesn’t have to say his name. It’s there, in the slight shift of his expression, in the way an unspoken weight settles over the room, pressing in from all sides.

Oliver nods, as if sensing my understanding. “If we put this one up for sale, Samuel Delgado will come for it.”

Istare at him. Then at Dominic. Then back at the painting.

The realization is a slow, creeping thing.

They’re using my work as bait.

For a man who kills without hesitation.

I take a step back, suddenly needing the distance, needing space to think, to breathe.

“This is insane,” I say, shaking my head. “You were shot. You almost died. And now you want to play games with a man like Samuel?”

Dominic’s expression doesn’t change. “This isn’t a game.”

The words are soft, but I know he means it.

And when I meet his gaze, I see it.

The unrelenting hunger for retribution.

The same thing that got him shot in the first place.

I glance at Nico, expecting him to be the voice of reason, but he only shrugs, like this is just another day in their world. Like using an auction to lure in a criminal is nothing worth questioning.

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