Romans & histoires You Should See Me In A Crown Book

“Two days ago, Alexander personally took her to a private jeweler. Measurements, design consultations—he stayed the entire time.” My heart clenched. “There’s more,” Ethan continued. “And it gets worse.” “I accessed her private cloud. Password was Alexander’s birthday.” Inside were photos. Hundreds of them. I opened the file he sent. The album was titled: My Knight. The most recent post was dated two days ago. He said this crown belongs only to me. Just like him. Next week’s family dinner—he promised to give me a name. The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern.

Chapter 17: The Curse of the Crimson Hunt “A crown is not a shield, Mira. It is a beacon. And now, every monster in the dark knows exactly where you are.” The silver light of the crown faded, settling into a steady, pulsing hum against my brow. I stood in the center of the vault, my chest heaving, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird trying to claw its way out. The crown felt heavy—not physically, but spiritually. It pressed against my skull, a constant, humming weight that vibrated in time with my heartbeat. The power was intoxicating, but it was also terrifying. I could feel the blood of a hundred generations whispering in my ears.

Her smile, laced with blood, looked haunting. A Haunt swept in, scattering the cash and gold bars from the car. Sparks flew, and the flames roared to life with a loud whoosh. I pulled a gold bar from my pocket. "Hear me, infant spirits, it's time for our final showdown!" The winds howled as I watched my mom wail in despair. Her tears were for her wealth, not a shred of worry for me. I spun around and plunged into the swirling darkness without a second thought.

My reflection stared back at me with damp curls falling around her face, brown skin still flushed from hot water, green eyes too bright in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with the thing beneath my skin that had never fully gone quiet. The Crown was not visible. That was what I told myself. No shards of mirror floating behind my head. No halo of broken glass. No ancient voice whispering commands through my pulse. No dramatic gothic nonsense, thank God, because I had rent, laundry, and actual adult nonsense to deal with now. But invisible did not mean gone. The Crown lived where ordinary things were supposed to live. Behind my eyes. In my bones. Under my tongue whe

I’ll be the crown. I cut a rune into the pedestal, blood-ink from my palm, the crown amplifying it. The shade-storm grows, shadows scratching the walls, cracking stone. I pull a scroll from my gown, inked with my orders: Crown me, or the Dominion burns. I toss it to Dante. “Get this to the council. Now.” He catches it, pausing. “You’re sure? If they turn on you—” “They won’t,” I cut in, aura flaring, knocking him back. “They’ll see Perez’s chaos and choose me. Go.”

I stepped my foot into this strange forest, and still, I need to get to know the meaning. As I walked closer to the light that shone in the middle of the place, I could almost reach the spot. That was when I came across the fourth sign of my journey. I saw a big crown on the ground, very clean and spotless. It shone around the place, and it was thoroughly gold-plated throughout the sides of the crown. This was the most beautiful crown that I have ever seen since I could ever remember, and I doubt if anyone could get this crown for himself without fighting.