my crown

mine own ambition. vince montgomery. fifty-four. montgomery family usurper boss. "there is no good and evil — only p o w e r, and those too weak to seek it."

[kingmontgomery-blog]

Text ✉ Vince

Erin: I'm at the hospital with Jeremy.

Erin: I don't know if he's going to be okay.

Vince: Stay with him, just in case.

Vince: That's what I did with you.

[theanthonycastro]

You people don’t actually believe this, do you?

[kingmontgomery-blog]

“I bet it was you, you smug son of a bitch. You’re their muscle, aren’t you? I bet you jumped at the chance to prove you can do more than babysit the blonde brigade.”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

Text: All Monty Personel

Hank: Should you have any information on Stefanie Montgomery's whereabouts, I expect to find it on my desk immediately. If you've seen the footage, you know what this message is in regards to.

Vince: I've got men scouring every borough right now. The brick behind her is enough of a start to go off of. We'll find her. Tonight.

[giannamontgomery-blog]

Gianna stood from her seat, rigid in stance, the grip on her phone hardening the longer she stared. Stefanie. Venom built in her throat as the words slipped from the masked man’s lips, one word sticking out. Castle. A scream grew in her throat, a savage sound as she threw her phone against the wall, startling many of those around her. “What! Fuck you looking at?”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

Every piece of him wanted to smile at Gigi’s transparent anger. Yes. Get angry. Get even. This is exactly how it’s supposed to go. He held his composure, of course, his mouth a heavy line, fists clenched, jaw held tight together. “We don’t have time to get angry,” he scolded. “I’ll be the first in line to help you rip those bastards apart limb from limb — after we find her.”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

The video had been executed perfectly. Had he not known Rafael to be behind the mask, putting on the performance of his life, Vince might have been enraged. The time for his heroic rescue soon approached, but not before he ensured all of Verona heard his so-called concern loud and clear. “The only thing the son of a bitch who took my niece is getting from us is a bullet to the brain,” he roared, unconcerned with who was listening — Montgomerys and Castles alike needed to feel his rage. “We’ll find her — alive. And when we do...”

[audreyjxmes-blog]

The Worst Is Yet To Come ● Audrey & Vince

This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. Every instinct inside Audrey was telling her to turn around and go back home, but somehow she kept walking, Nathan’s face stuck in her head with every move she made, reminding her why she had to do this. Dressed completely in dark and with a hood over her head, Audrey blended in with the darkness of Hell’s Kitchen almost completely. She made it to the warehouse where she was supposed to meet Vince exactly at 10pm sharp, her heart thumping hard in her chest both with anxiety and…excitement? Audrey couldn’t deny that a small part of her was really curious about tonight. 

“I don’t think this place is creepy enough, we should go somewhere else.” Audrey remarked sarcastically as a way of greeting her boss. @kingmontgomery

[kingmontgomery-blog]

He’d been there early enough to set up. Few preparations were required for their little training session, as he’d sugar-coated it, aside from the obvious — a test dummy. Vince would send no virgin killer on his revenge mission, not even one driven by the dangerous cyclone of grief and fury swirling inside Audrey James. To ensure her strength under pressure, as she looked into the eyes of a man about to die and held herself accountable for his last breaths, there was only one test — and she was right on time for it.

With a snarl and a scoff, Vince shrugged off the girl’s sarcastic comment — one he reduced to a mere manifestation of anxiety and nerves. “When you’re ready to take this seriously,” he sneered, “follow me.”

Powerful, confident steps guided her through the warehouse, a building entirely empty aside from two strategically placed objects — a table, covered with an assortment of objects, and a chair, on which was strapped her victim. Vince could barely remember his name. All he knew the man to be was a low-life henchmen, one he suspected of feeding information to the enemy. With something of his own to gain, suspicion was more than enough for Vince to warrant the man’s execution.

“You know what you’re here to do,” he explained; that much had been established the last they’d spoken. “How you do it is up to you.” Vince motioned towards the table — part one of her test was the selection of her weapon of choice, if only to give him a moment to analyze her. Sprawled across the wood were her options — a pistol, a knife, a saw, a hammer, a long piece of rope, a bucket of water, a pair of gloves, and an empty plastic bag. A sadistic smile spread across his lips as he looked back towards her. “Choose.”

[erin-austin-blog]

⊰Doomed⊱ - Erin & Vince

[erin-austin-blog]

Cold. Erin felt cold. Loneliness crept up on her like an old friend and she didn’t understand why. This wasn’t what she believed death to be like. Her father wasn’t waiting for her with opens arms. Instead, when she finally saw his face, he looked sad. 

“Oh, Erin…” Her father’s voice echoed, face solemn. “My little bird…you shouldn’t be here.”

“What?” She shook her head furiously. “I’m right where I need to be…I’m here with you, dad! Why aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Because it’s not your time.”

The brunette looked around at the darkness that surrounded them and she wrapped her arms around herself. Was he right? But it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to remain with her father. That had been her goal – away from the war and reunited with her father.

“He loves you.”

Tears started filling Erin’s eyes as she realized what he meant and she nodded, understanding she shouldn’t be there. Slowly, she came to and her eyes squeezed shut, trying to adjust to the lighting of the room she was in. Where was she? The sounds of machines beeping around her gave her her answer.

She was in the hospital.

A cough slipped past her lips. Her throat was dry. The room was spinning. Turning her head slightly, she saw the one person she wasn’t expecting to be by her bed side. The only person by her bed side.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing she managed to say.

[kingmontgomery-blog]

How deceptively easy it was for a man so focused on his own larger picture to remain blind to the things directly in front of him. The urge to shield his niece from the hardships he had not yet readied her for had crept out of a cavity in his chest he hadn’t known to exist until it was too late — until he saw her face-up on cold bathroom tile, a sleeping Snow White. There was no prince coming to save her — he was a dark knight at best, and though the budding love he felt for her had to be real, this was not the love written about in fairytales. This was not the love that would wake her.

She’d called him out by name in the note Vince kept crumpled in his jacket pocket, hiding its contents from wandering eyes. She didn’t want to see him; not then, not ever again. That was exactly why he waited, listening impatiently to the ticking hands of the clock, watching as her chest slowly raised and sunk with her shallow breaths — to prove her wrong. He’d said it himself — he was the closest she had to a father, and Vince knew more than anyone the desperation of a child to feel loved by their father, though the irony of his treatment of his own children remained entirely lost on him.

The ruffling of the sheets pulled his attention. Slowly, the girl rose from her slumber, confused eyes drinking in her surroundings — at the sight of him, the only person hovering by her side being the one she’d been desperate to escape, she likely thought herself in hell.

I’m sorry slipped from dazed lips. All Vince could do was swallow, a silent acceptance of her apology.

“We’ve buried too many of our own already,” he ventured in return. “I wasn’t about to lose another.”

[missmargotmontgomery-deactivate]

Round Two | Margot & Vince

[missmargotmontgomery-deactivate]

She’d killed a man. Margot expected to feel guilt. After all, wasn’t that naturally what a person was meant to experience when they kill someone? When they value their own lives over hat of another or something? She felt confused when no bout of remorse entered her being. She felt fine. Her chest rose and fell with what remained of the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Her skin was wet with blood. Her clothing, damp. Her lips were coated with much of the same, no matter how many times she might have wanted to wipe her hands over her mouth. 

She’d killed a man.

What did it say about her, if it almost felt wonderful doing so?

And in a moment, her father was in front of her. She thought he might show dismay. Exclaim that this was all a joke and that she’d majorly fucked up. But he was smiling at her the same way he had that night in the restaurant. All pride and glee. When he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her jaw tightened, eyes narrowing into slits. It was a look that passed on her face for only a moment, before finally slipping away. The corners of Margot’s lips slowly lifted upward, flashing her teeth. That five-star grin that would one day take over all of Hollywood if she so desired.

“Good,” Margot said, her voice firm. Unwavering. Her hands fell on her hips. “Don’t forget about it,” she told him. The four words weren’t advisory. They weren’t a suggestion, but instead an order. A command. Get the fucking moment tattooed on the backs of your eyelids, she wanted to tell him. Don’t let the image of Margot Montgomery doused in a pretty, pretty red ever slip from your mind. 

“What now?” she asked him, her chin inclining a little so that she could find his gaze. “I’ve made quite the mess of your basement… and myself.”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

What now? A simple question, but one loaded with ammunition he didn’t expect to cross her untrained eyes. She was referring to the bloodied body sitting before them, of course. It stared back at her with cloudy, lifeless eyes — perhaps taunting to some, serving as a haunting reminder of what their hands could prove to be capable of, but to Vince, the man was a trophy. Tonight’s victory was one shared between the two of them — both receiving the dues their bargain owed, yes, but so much more.

There were discreet members of his staff who could take care of the mess, of course — Vince Montgomery certainly didn’t dirty his hands with the clean-up. Why risk leaving his DNA on a body when there were perfectly complacent goons willing to do the deed for a mere pat on the back or nod of recognition? A back door could take them to a car he had waiting, away from the prying eyes of The Athenian’s loyal puppets. His daughter wasn’t the first blood-soaked comrade he’d covertly escort out of the building, and she’d hardly be the last.

But Vince wasn’t concerned with the immediate. It was the long term ‘what now?’ that piqued his interest.

She’d be changed forever — he knew from experience. His own first time had ignited a thirst within him, and if that unyielding, stone cold assertion of hers was anything concrete, there was one thing he could finally admit with confidence that she’d inherited from him. 

“Now,” he breathed, his own voice steady and unflinching — this was a dance he’d done before, though never with a partner to intimate. “We leave. Follow me through the back — we won’t be seen. I’ll have a car take you wherever you need to go.” He dared not say it in so many words, but between his syllables lived an invitation — she could return to the apartment she’d found herself, yes, or, tonight, in the aftermath, his home would be open to her once again. “Go get some sleep — I imagine you have some introspection to do.”

[missmargotmontgomery-deactivate]

“Ah,” the sound slipped between her lips, both of which curved with pleasure. There was no better feeling in the world than getting her way and spending Vince’s money. She plucked it out of his hand, gingerly folded it in half and tucked it away inside of her clutch purse. “Oh, Daddy, you just know me so well,” Margot leaned forward some, the volume of her voice lowering. “Am I still your little girl? Tell me, after our time ‘bonding’ together, after how proud you claimed to be, aren’t you ready for the two of us to kiss and make up?” 

[kingmontgomery-blog]

She could’ve been playing him just as well as he was playing her — and if she was, it only quickened the tiny flutter of pride still beating within his chest, in the hollow cavity often reserved solely for Marco’s praise. Vince was well aware she’d never have felt the crush of bone beneath blade if he hadn’t dangled a cheque before her greedy eyes; her actions had been a mean to an end — just like his own. “I thought we already had?” he prompted, eyes widening. Unspoken as it was, there had been a mutual understanding in that metal box of a room — his support for her allegiance. “But if you feel the need to make it official, we can start by replacing that awful trinket on your wrist with something worth the space in your jewellery box.” Camilla had won a single battle, perhaps, but he played a game of endurance — and with her lungs collapsing upon themselves after such a desperate sprint, he could now reclaim his place at the front of the pack.

[hankselleck]

“I am sorry, but you’re going to have to repeat that. It’s been a very long morning.”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

“I doubt it was longer than mine, but try me.”

[saigexcarmichael-blog]

“If you wanted to sit here, I wouldn’t mind… I’d actually love the company.”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

“Do I have to pull out my wallet, or is this on the house?”

[audreyjxmes-blog]

“No, I get it, you’re right, I have to prepare myself for this. But is it absolutely necessary that I “practice” on someone else? I’d really rather not take an innocent life, Mr. Montgomery, but if you really believe that’s what it takes in order for this plan to be successful, then I will do it. At the end of the day, what’s just another body in the pile?”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

“Your belief that there’s still an innocent life left in this war only reinforces my point. Whoever it is will have a family, yes, and moments that might make a fool believe that their good outweighs their evil — but so does Aaron Reed. They’ve also committed their crimes, just like Aaron Reed. Taking a life isn’t about innocence, it’s about evening the scales — taking back the strength, security, and power you deserve. If you’re able to understand that, meet me at our warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen tomorrow night. If not, there are people lining up around the block to silence Nathan’s killer — I can happily call one of them.”

[sonya-masterson-blog]

It’s not often that Sonya gets to ask for something from him. It isn’t her place. No, a mistress’ place is to take what she’s given and not demand more. Not like a wife would. It’s enough to give her pause. She knows, even twenty years after leaving the woman behind, what her mother would say: ask for diamonds, ask for art, ask for something real, something tangible, because it would last far longer than the man would. Deep down, Sonya even knows that she’s right. But it isn’t what she wants. (She’s a sentimental fool.)

“If I win, you have to take me somewhere nice.” The logistics of it, in a town where everyone knows his name and his face and his business, would be up to him. There’s a thrill in saying the world aloud, there’s a thrill in even just speaking to him here, in Ephesus, where everyone can see them but no one knows what they are to each other, what they’ve been for quite some time. It feels daring, she feels too hot under the flashing lights.  “But I wouldn’t dream of setting your terms. What do you want if you win?”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

Somewhere nice? Fuck. He’d given her an inch, she’d gone and run a goddamn marathon, somehow expecting him to trail obediently behind her, as if she’d forgotten what their relationship (though the use of the word to describe their arrangement was an abomination) was founded on — urgency, discretion, a closeted passion that was never meant to see the light of day. They didn’t hold hands, or parade around town stealing kisses in the rain beneath dimly lit streetlights, or stare into each others’ eyes over a bottle of Chandon at one of Manhattan’s finest restaurants — not even before he’d had a wife to worry about. That was never how it had been. It never would be.

But Vince was no fool; a woman ruled by heart was that much easier to control, susceptible to every twist and pull of her emotions. Give her what she wants, one night to pretend she means something, and she’s putty in your hands. It was a small price to pay for the woman’s complacence. “Done,” he nodded, though he held his plans to ensure their rendezvous happened far outside of the city, where few would recognize him, to himself. “And if you lose,” his eyes drifted towards the stage, eyeing the girls with legs wrapped around silver poles, writhing to the music, “we shut this place down for a night and you remind me why we made you its queen.”

[kingmontgomery-blog]

▼

The crash of her lips was entirely unprecedented, selfish in its nature — like every goddamn thing the woman had ever done. Whether she had grown tired of pretending she didn’t desperately crave a taste of him or simply sought the easiest historically proven way to shut him up, Vince wasn’t about to argue — he couldn’t, as her tongue stole the bud of any coherent syllable from his throat, rendering his verbal repertoire a breathy array of double-edged groans.

Years had passed since the first time he’d tasted her, and Camilla Montgomery’s lips still remained an enigma, the most deliciously toxic cocktail in which he’d ever indulged — artificial, the taste of lipstick and masked intentions; sweet, like a candy belonging to another, one he was forbidden from savouring; metallic, a woman with a tongue forged from iron, and the pang of the blood her teeth had drawn from his lip.

She could claim his mouth for the night, but she’d never claim him. A possessive hand knotted itself in loose raven waves, Vince’s hungry lips drinking every drop of reluctant passion her carnal impulse had spilled. This was not the kiss of fairytales — Camilla’s prince was d e a d. This was was the kiss of a masochistic fantasy, a woman craving the release to be found in darkness, and a black knight all too eager to provide. Staggered steps pushing his bride against the wall, his hand moved for hers — not to intertwine delicate fingers, like another once had, but to lay tight claim to her wrist, pinning it over her head. 

There was only one name she’d remember tonight, and it belonged not to the sturdy white rider buried six feet underground. It belonged to the devil himself.

[kingmontgomery-blog]

Looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you: Lena, Joshua, Sal, Margot, Marcel, Marco, Katia, Noah, Leo, Isaac, Caroline, Cameron

Looks like they could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll: Rafael, Audrey, Gianna, Lincoln, Alessia, Caroline, Jeremiah, Genevieve, Cecilia, Grayson, Autumn

Looks like a cinnamon roll and actually is a cinnamon roll:Stefanie, Sonya, Erin, Jeremy, Phoebe, Saige, Liam, Carmen, Adeline

Looks like they could kill you and actually could: Camilla, Vince, Victor, Aaron, John, Anthony, Helena

[queenxcamilla-blog]

W e l l ?

Have you a light or not? I’m desperate for a cigarette.

[kingmontgomery-blog]

“I’m so sorry, dear, fresh out.”

He took a long drag from his own cigarette, blowing a puff of smoke towards her. His lighter sat in the bottom of his pocket. For her, though, it didn’t exist.

[alessiacastle1-blog]

This is bullshit. Bulimia is not something to make light of.

[kingmontgomery-blog]

“You print enough bullshit of your own that I’d assume you know how to take it.”