Page 25 of Monsters Carve Thrones
“You’ve earned it,” he said simply, voice low and thick from exertion.
“Earned what?”
“Whatever dinner you want.” He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the salt and musk of him. “And I’ll make it.”
My brows shot up. “Wow, so many options.”
“Get thinking, love.”
I laughed, giddy and flushed, letting him pull me in for a quick kiss that left me breathless despite my sweaty and sore state.
“Then I want pasta,” I told him. “The good kind. Homemade. Withwine.”
His eyes sparkled. “Demanding.”
“I’m your wife. Comes with the title.”
He chuckled, sliding a hand along the small of my back. “Then you’re getting pasta.”
I was already thinking about a long shower and a glass of red before dinner.
***
RAFE
The pasta was edible. Maybe even good. Adela swore it was, though she might’ve been lying to spare my ego. She’d curled up on the counter while I worked, hair damp from the shower, her legs swinging lazily like she didn’t just spar with a trained killer and win. I liked that version of her–soft and flushed from training and still capable of slicing your throat if need be.
By the time Laura arrived, the wine had already been opened, and the food was disappearing faster than I expected. The townhouse tour was all they could talk about. It made me happy how excited she was about our new start.
“I still can’t believe you two are moving in this weekend,” Laura said, pouring another heavy-handed glass. “That patio is straight out of a damn fairy tale.Wildflowers?Come on. That’s too cheery for you, bloodthirsty murderers.”
“Shut up,” Adela giggled, nudging her shoulder. “You’ll come over all the time. I’m getting a little fridgejustfor wine.”
“You’re getting a wine fridge,” I corrected my wife, nodding toward Laura. “Not just for wine. Forherwine.”
Laura smirked, eyes dancing. “The man is right.”
Adela blew her a kiss. “Don’t let him get too confident.”
They laughed like blood wasn’t bound to be spilled tonight. The cozy, celebratory world they were in now was a beautiful fucking lie.
And I’d kill to keep it intact.
I sipped whiskey while they got progressively drunker, leaning back in my chair, letting the lull of their voices fill the kitchen. Laura assured Adela the office was handled and that Sinclair Solutions was running smoothly, with no breaches and no chaos.
But my mind drifted.
There were still meetings to attend. Still names on a list. Moreau had left a mess, and I’d spent the last month picking through the wreckage like a dog in a graveyard. His biggest partners–dealers, smugglers, mercenaries–were all dead now.
Because I made it so.
I hunted them down. One by one. Some were fast and merciful kills. Some weren’t. The last few would be worse because they were the kind who didn’t scare easily. Nah, they only understood pain.
I stared at Adela, laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. She looked radiant. Free. Like she hadn’t once stood in a pool of blood and made a man scream before silencing him.
She adapted so easily. She fell into this world like she always belonged. And I guess she did.
But perfection was usually dangerous. I’d lived long enough to know that when everything seemed flawless, it meant something was hiding in the dark.
