Page 136 of Monsters Carve Thrones
I looked over my shoulder at Rafe.
His eyes were wild ice. That lethal calm that only cracked when he touched me. “You ready?”
I drew in a slow breath. My fingers curled. The room tilted. I felt like a blade about to be drawn. “I’m ready.”
He stepped toward me, fixing the collar of his jacket. “We walk in slow,” he said, brushing invisible lint from my shoulder. “Let them look. Let them think they still have control.”
“And then?” I asked.
“Oh, baby.” He smiled. “We carve our throne in their blood.”
Laura’s voice buzzed in my ear. “Stage is yours, queen. Go make history.”
I looked back at the screen one last time. One of the men adjusted his cufflinks. Another checked his watch. They were growing restless. Arrogant little asses in suits. I stood tall. My boots clicked as I crossed the room. Rafe fell in beside me. The silence between us was holy. We didn’t need words. We were two loaded guns walking toward a room full of targets.
As we reached the hallway, the guards ahead of us stepped back. Kieran gave a single nod, then tapped his comm. Doors unlatched. Systems locked down. Every exit sealed like a tomb.
The doors opened and quiet fell. Every head in the room turned. Eyes widened. Jaws dropped. Confusion twisted into something uglier–disbelief, unease, anddread.
They weren’t looking at Varga.
They were looking atme.
I stepped in first, dressed in black skinny jeans and boots. Beside me, Rafe moved like a predator, terrifying in his silence. His icy stare swept across the room like the scythe of Death himself.
The tension fractured the air.
I grinned. “Zdenek Varga sends his love,” I said sweetly. “Though I had to blow his fucking brains out before we got here.”
A ripple of panic moved across the gathered men. A few exchanged nervous glances. Others stood rigid, eyes flicking to each exit like rats realizing the trap was sprung.
Rafe’s hand brushed mine. Then he stepped forward, slow and calm, that dangerous smile spreading like blood in water. “You all showed up tonight,” he said, voice smooth as silk and sharp as knives. “Because you thought you werefinallygoing to bring me down. Maybe even kill me. Maybe carve upthe empire I built and split it among yourselves like greedy little pigs at the trough.”
He chuckled, a low, deadly sound that curled up my spine.
“But let me make something very,veryclear.” He turned in a slow circle, addressing every face, every suit, every demon in disguise. “You don’t get to takeanythingfrom me.” His voice dropped, venomous. “You let Waylon keep her in a cage. You watched her get dragged into meetings like a prize dog. You stood there, saying nothing, doing nothing, while she was abused. And raped.”
His hand found my lower back, grounding me. My heart soared at the rage burning in his words–rage forme.
“Tonight,” Rafe said, his voice rising, “you get what you fucking deserve.”
Chairs scraped back. Some of them stood, already reaching for their weapons.
I stepped forward, my voice cold as ice. “Sit the fuck down.”
A few did, instincts overriding arrogance.
The others didn’t.
So Rafe’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. “Sit.” That tone could command Satan himself. Even the defiant ones stilled, realizing far too late that this wasn’t a business meeting. This was a massacre in formal wear.
I scanned their faces. Fear. Confusion. Rage. It was a goddamn symphony. “You really thought you could come for us and walk out alive?” I asked, head tilted. “You underestimated just how deep our vengeance runs. I memorized some of your faces from when Waylon tortured me. You motherfuckers smiled. Youlikedit.” I took a step forward, heat flaring beneath my skin. “Just so you know, Waylon and his men are dead becausewekilled them.”
“Doors are locked,” Rafe said with a grin. “Exits are sealed. And this beautiful place you’re standing in? It goes up in flames in about...” he checked his watch. “Twenty minutes.”
“Long enough for a little fun,” I added.
Their panic was beautiful.
