Lies of My Monster: Prologue

If you lose, it’s your fault.

If you win, it’s natural.

Those are the words my father has engraved in my mind ever since I learned how to talk. I’ve come to the realization that I’m nothing more than a commodity to him. He invested in me, and he expects returns in any form he deems necessary.

Roman Morozov isn’t my father. He’s my keeper.

One day, I’ll get out of this fucking house and take Konstantin and Karina with me. Better yet, I’ll kick him and Yulia out and live in the mansion with my siblings.

Why should we leave when they’re the abnormal ones?

I step through the school’s gate and wait for the driver to pick me up. The gloomy sky casts a shadow of sadness over the school grounds, but a certain cheerful atmosphere fills the air since it’s the last day before the Christmas holidays.

Everyone attending this private school is either rich, influential, or both. It goes without saying that my father would enroll me in this fucking circus where everyone’s first question is, “What does your father do?” I can’t exactly answer with, “He kills people,” because that would be frowned upon due to their fragile morality. I settle for ignoring them instead.

Usually, Viktor would be glued to my side like a magnet, and his stonelike presence is enough to ward off unwanted attention. However, he was forbidden from attending today due to some guard event.

Whenever Roman feels Viktor has gotten too close, he doesn’t miss the chance to remind him and the rest of my personal security that they’re only guards—servants—he can get rid of whenever he pleases.

Or, more like, he does it to remind me that if he chooses to, he can isolate me from everyone. My father insists on grooming me to believe that my only role in life is being his heir. Not anyone’s friend, sibling, or son.

I’m just a fucking commodity.

A few students whisper as they pass by. I don’t have to hear them to know what they’re saying about me.

“I heard his father is in the Russian mafia.”

“He’ll become a gangster one day.”

“Don’t look at him, or he might get you killed.”

“Have you seen the way he glares?”

If Viktor were here, he’d terrorize these kids until they pissed themselves. Me? I couldn’t care less. Let them gossip all they like. After all, that’s the only thing weak people can do.

Adrian trudges in my direction then stops beside me. He’s a few years older than me, but since I was an early bloomer, I’m not that much shorter than him. While I ignore all the other kids, I have an excellent relationship with the teachers and make it my mission to charm them for good grades. Adrian, however, only talks to his closest guard, Kolya, who’s currently standing on the corner.

Adrian has made himself an outcast on purpose. His expression is closed off and his hands are shoved in the pockets of his khaki pants. I was a bit taken aback when he approached me since students usually avoid me like the plague.

He definitely has no reason to stay away from me, considering his father and mine are two of the New York Bratva kings.

He has no reason to initiate contact, either. We’re not friends.

In fact, the concept of friends doesn’t exist in our world. There are two categories—allies and enemies. He falls under neither.

“Waiting for your ride as well?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

He says nothing and continues staring ahead with his depressing gray eyes that could be mistaken for a wayward cloud.

Adrian’s mother was a mistress who somehow snatched the wife position after a lot of drama. He’s never appeared to feel comfortable at any of the events we’ve been pushed into together. And he rarely talks, no matter how much the other children and I try to bring him out of his shell.

He acts like such a drama queen, as if he’s had it worse than the rest of us or something.

“You know.” I jut my chin in his direction. “You’ll never get anywhere in this world with that attitude of yours.”

He meets my gaze and then motions at my neck. “Worry about yourself and those bruises you’re doing a shitty job of hiding.”

I grin despite the tingling that starts in my neck and slithers down my spine. “Battle scars shouldn’t be hidden.”

“That’s called abuse, Kirill.”

“Oh yeah? Are you an expert?”

“I know it when I see it.” He faces me fully and steps closer so we’re toe to toe. “That is not okay.”

“Fuck off.”

“You being defensive is also a result of abuse.”

“Hey, don’t push your luck, and stay out of my business.”

“Closing oneself off is a symptom, as is defending one’s abuser.”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’m going to punch you.”

“That’s another form—”

Before he’s finished his words, I’ve already driven my fist into his face. He stumbles back a step, but then he swings his arm and punches me in the cheek.

I reel back but catch myself before I trip.

We exchange a few more blows until our noses are bleeding, our lips are busted, and we need to lean on the stone wall for balance. A few onlookers gather around, but Adrian’s guard, who’s around his age, scares them to death while kicking them away. He did try to stop us at one point, but a single look from Adrian was enough to derail him.

We’re both panting as we glare at each other while hunching over to catch our breaths.

“You need to stop it, or it’ll go on forever,” he says.

“I swear to fuck, Adrian, if you don’t shut up…”

“What are you gonna do? Punch me like a girl?”

“I’m going to kill you.” I lunge at him again, and he’s waiting for me, his eyes blazing. Seems that this motherfucker woke up today and chose violence. How could I not make his wish come true?

He doesn’t lift his hands to protect himself and, instead, strains from between clenched teeth, “You can stop it.”

“And how do I do that, genius?” I stand before him and let my fist fall to my side. “Unless I get stronger, I won’t be able to stop anything.”

“Then do it faster. For starters, stop punching like a girl.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw how prettily I decorated your face, motherfucker.”

He harrumphs and turns toward his guard. “We’re walking home, Kolya. A certain presence has soured my mood.”

“I should be the one saying that!” I shout at his back. “I wish you a shitty Christmas.”

He flips me off without turning around, and I want to run at full speed and knock him to the ground. I don’t, because even I realize that I already gave in to violence more than I should’ve allowed myself.

I’m trying to have better control of that part of myself, and to do that, I need to be more levelheaded. I touch the corner of my lip and wince. One of these days, that fucker Adrian will have his throat slit in his sleep.

A black van pulls up in front of me, but before it’s fully stopped, the side door opens, and a shrill, excited voice yells, “Kirya!!!”

My brother jumps from the car and slams into me, knocking me off balance. I pat the top of his light hair. Despite being only two years younger than me, he’s way shorter. I’m having a growth spurt he can’t keep up with.

“Hi there, little Kosta.”

“I’m not little.” He still nuzzles his nose in my chest like when he was a toddler. My ribs ache from when Adrian punched me, but I wrap my arm around his back.

“Kirill!! Kirill!” Another much smaller figure crashes into my side.

My five-year-old sister, Karina, reaches her hands up to me even though I’ve told her she’s too heavy to carry. Does she understand that logic? No way in hell.

She looks pretty today in a pink dress with white ribbons. Her blonde hair falls in styled curls to the middle of her back.

“Kara.” Despite my sore body, I still lift her high and she sits snugly on my shoulders.

She taps the top of my head and then gasps. “Blood, blood. Are you hurt?”

That’s when Konstantin pushes back to actually stare at me, and his eyes widen. “Why…what happened?”

“Just a meaningless fight. Nothing to worry about.”

He pouts, and Karina starts to cry, so I have to console them both and assure them that I’m really okay. If I’d known they were coming to pick me up, I wouldn’t have risen to Adrian’s provocations or talked to the slimy fucker.

I might not be strong enough to put an end to my father’s tests and training, but I will be. If for no other reason than to protect my siblings.

In the car, there are two of my father’s guards and the driver. No matter which angle I view the situation from, it’s weird that my father sent Konstantin and Karina to pick me up from school. It’s even more strange that Yulia allowed Konstantin out of her sight when she’s usually overprotective of him.

“Why did you guys come along?” I ask.

“Because we miss you! Miss you!” Karina shouts, then breaks into a fit of giggles. She has a habit of repeating her words because our dear mother always tells her to speak clearly and not like an idiot.

“Papa said we’re going on a Christmas holiday.” Konstantin grins, his face brimming with excitement. “As a family.”

I narrow my eyes. We have never, and I mean ever, done anything as a family, so the fact that we’re starting now makes me suspicious.

In fact, I’m fucking paranoid about this change of events.

Christmas is usually me decorating a tree for my siblings and giving them presents because Roman doesn’t do it, and Yulia only has Christmas presents for Konstantin. I’ve come to expect that from her, but it still makes Karina cry every year. So Konstantin divides his dozen presents between him, me and Karina behind Yulia’s back. I don’t take them, but that act soothes our baby sister’s hurt feelings. She’s the one with an eternal love for glitter, bright colors, and everything pretty.

Does Yulia care? Absolutely not. It’s like Karina and I are invisible to her. I wish she was our stepmother. That way, this whole disdain would make sense.

How the woman who actually gave birth to us could treat us this way is the part that I can’t find an explanation for.

“Is that what the guards said?” I ask my brother.

He nods. “We’re finally going on a trip together!”

I cast a glance at my surroundings. All the other students have left, so it’s only us. My gut twists as I put Karina down and let her grab my hand, and then I clutch Konstantin’s with my free one. “We should leave this place. Now.”

“But why?” He tries to resist me. “Kara and I want to go on the holiday.”

“We want to go, go.” Karina pulls on my hand, too, but she has little to no effect.

Because I’m already dragging them down the street.

“Sir, come back here.” The guards’ heavy footsteps sound behind me as they soon catch up to us. “We have clear instructions to drive you.”

“We’re walking. Go back on your own,” I say without turning around.

The heavy footsteps disappear, but they’re replaced by others. Lighter but more of them. I lift Karina up so that she’s glued to my side and scream, “Run, Kosta!”

There’s a small pause before he nods and complies. He doesn’t even ask me why or where we’re going. Konstantin has always trusted me with everything. Including thoughts about how he hates Yulia sometimes because she treats me and Karina like shit.

He tells me how one day, it’ll be just the three of us because my baby brother decided that my dream is also his dream.

We don’t look behind us as we run down the streets, breezing past the Christmas-decorated shops. But we’re not fast enough. Karina is slowing me down, and Konstantin keeps lagging behind. Suddenly too overwhelmed by the pace, he trips and falls, calling my name.

I curse and start to go back to help him, but the moment I do, it’s too late. Men dressed in black combat clothes and balaclavas have already gotten hold of him.

He thrashes and kicks, but it’s impossible when he’s surrounded by six of them. Karina screams at the sight, and I put her down, then hide her in a small alley. I hunch to her level and say in a soothing voice, “Stay here, Kara. I’ll get Kosta and come back, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” She keeps her hand on my arm as if not wanting to let me go, so I gently wrench it free.

I rush back to my brother to find him thrashing and cursing. Upon seeing me, hope blossoms in his eyes, “Kirya!”

I fetch a rock and throw it at one of the men. It hits him, but two others lunge at me at supersonic speed. Just when I’m devising the best plan of action, Karina shrieks.

“Kirill!” both she and Kosta call.

My mind turns into a mess, and I don’t know where to look first. But before I can decide, I’m whacked in the side of my head, and my knees hit the ground before my body follows.

Through my blood-soaked vision, I see the men carrying a screaming Konstantin and Karina away.

I try to reach out to them but realize I’m also being dragged away, but in the opposite direction.

Just like that, my world turns black.