Lies of My Monster: Chapter 1
Lies of My Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance (Monster Trilogy Book 2)
I believe in instinct.
Not only has it saved my life numerous times, but itâs also helped me in solving many mysteries.
It was in my early teenage years that I began to predict what type of torture my father had in store for me. He started using Konstantin and Karina to get to me, so I gradually kept my distance so as not to get them involved.
That time when I was kidnapped in front of their eyes when I was thirteen terrorized them to the point that they couldnât sleep for days. The guards dropped them off at home, but I was in for my special torture endurance âtraining.â A little Christmas gift from dear old Papa.
And while my father only meant to scare them, it went above and beyond and actually traumatized them.
I went back home a few days later with bruises all over my torso and cutting scars on my abdomen. Like a damn psychopath, Roman had made sure none of the torture was visible on my face.
As Konstantin and Karina hugged me, I had to bite my lip to endure the pain. They cried their hearts out and crowded my bed that night. Not even Yulia could take Konstantin away. It was the first time they slept after nights of terror.
But I couldnât sleep. The pain didnât allow me the comfort of shutting my brain and relaxing. In fact, it was soon after that incident that I found it hard to sleep. My mind was on high alert, thinking about solutions in case I was ambushed again.
Thatâs when I realized that if I didnât create distance from my siblings, theyâd be collateral damage in my fatherâs grand plans for me.
Since then, Iâve learned to trust my gut when it tells me something.
Like now.
I knew something was amiss the moment Sasha asked for three days off. One, she barely utilizes her vacation days, and when she does, itâs to spend time with Karina or with fucking Maksim.
Two, her going to Russia for this particular vacation told me everything I needed to know.
She was returning to the slimy motherfucker she was talking to on the phone seven months ago.
The one she told she missed and would come back to soon. Not only that, but she also shot the device so I wouldnât be able to find his details, then proceeded to threaten to kill me if I hurt her beloved snowflake.
The reason I know heâs Russian? She spoke the language when she said those affectionate things I didnât think she was capable of.
I never brought up the subject of her lover again, because I knew that if I did, her walls would be up in no time. That doesnât mean I forgot about him, though.
In fact, heâs been in the back of my mind every second of every day. Whenever I fuck her, I go harder and faster at the thought that she has feelings for someone else.
I see her face each morning and wonder if today is the day sheâll decide to leave me and go back to his side. The only thing thatâs offered a small form of solace is knowing she followed me to New York for a reason, and until she gets what she wants, Sasha will simply not give up.
Thatâs just not part of her personality.
And while I donât know her reason, I havenât actively searched for it either since Iâve had her by my side, and thatâs whatâs mattered the most.
But then she asked for those three days off so she could go see her lover in Russia.
In the beginning, I contemplated locking her the fuck up in the dungeons so sheâd never consider leaving my side again. However, I thought better of it.
This is my chance to not only meet her lover, but also eliminate him once and for all. That way, sheâll have no one to be with but me.
When I dropped her off at the airport, though, I wanted to abandon the whole plan, and I was ready to if sheâd just stayed.
I all but fucking begged her to stay, but she left anyway.
She chose him over me.
Did that drive me to nearly lose my shit during the flight? Absolutely.
Even Viktor was eyeing me like I was an alien, despite my numerous attempts to remain still.
I initially planned to come here alone, but Viktor, who likes to think he was born as my shadow, vehemently refused to stay behind.
He did keep his questions to himself when I told him we were going to Russia. But thatâs only because I threatened to throw him out of the plane if he said anything.
My mood went from bad to colossally terrible when we landed in Russia and I found out that Sasha had left her phone in an airport locker.
She knew Iâd send someone after her and abandoned the method thatâs susceptible to being tracked.
The jokeâs on her, though, because thatâs not the only tracker I have on her. Since I anticipated this, I placed one tracker in her bag and another in the lining of her jacket.
I check my phone, and both of them are working.
Sheâs moving, and judging by her location and the speed, sheâs in a vehicle on the highway.
Russiaâs fucking winter slaps me in the face and nearly freezes me during the walk from the private jet to the car I arranged to have waiting for us. Weâre definitely not dressed for Mother Russia today, and it shows. Even Viktorâs jaw tightens at the stabs of cold.
The heavy snow turns my jacket white in seconds and by the time weâre inside, itâs soaking wet. I remove it and send the live location to the GPS in front of Viktor. âFollow that dot, and donât lose it.â
He stares at me through the rearview mirror. âCan you tell me why weâre in Russia and following fuck knows who?â
âNo. Do as youâre told or get out so I can do it myself.â
âKirillââ
âItâs personal, and thatâs all you need to know. I swear to fuck, Viktor, we lose that dot, and I leave you to freeze on the side of the road.â
He narrows his eyes as if he wants to take this already tense situation further, but he chooses to be smart and starts driving.
In the meantime, to keep myself from self-combusting, I continue checking the location on my smartwatch.
Sasha stops at one point and begins moving at a slower pace, probably on foot, then a few minutes later, she increases her speed again
Interesting.
Sheâs using different means of transport. Again, to avoid being followed.
The fact that sheâs going to such lengths to protect her fucker of a lover fills my vision with red.
Of course, she could also be here to meet a family member, but according to her army records, sheâs an orphan. Sheâs just mentioned her family once, that day in the sauna, and she never uses personal names.
The only other possibility is her fucking lover.
I push my glasses up my nose and lean my chin against my fist.
It should feel blasphemous for me to have these emotions toward anyone, let alone a girl I know practically nothing about.
Sheâs just a fuck buddy. Someone who submits to my dominance and gets off on it.
And yetâ¦she isnât.
I have no clue why Sasha is special to me, but I know she is.
She. Fucking. Is.
And Iâll be damned if I let her reunite with her lover before I get to the bottom of these turbulent emotions.
We keep following her for over two hours, until she stops, then appears to be running toward what looks to be a giant field on the map. If my guess is correct, sheâs used at least four means of transportation at this point.
By the time we arrive, sheâs about half an hour in. I canât follow her on foot, because Iâll probably miss her. Or, more accurately, Iâll allow her to reunite with the fucker without my being there.
âGet me a snowmobile,â I tell Viktor.
âIt might take me a while.â
âI donât give a fuck. Make it happen.â
He steps out of the car, but juts his head back in.
âWhat?â I snap.
âIf you were a woman, Iâd say youâre PMSâing, but youâre not. So Iâm not sure how to categorize this behavior.â
âThen donât, and do as youâre told.â
He stares at me for a beat, as if making sure Iâm the same person heâs known his whole life, shakes his head, and finally goes to make himself useful.
It takes him fifteen minutes I donât have to bring me a snowmobile, but Sasha still appears to be running, so I can make it.
Viktor throws me a thick white coat and thermal pants. I hastily change into them, pull on the snow binoculars, and hop on the snowmobile.
My guard clutches the handlebars. âIâll drive.â
âNo, youâll stay here until I get back.â
âIâm not letting you go in the middle of nowhere alone.â
âYou donât have a say in it. Donât follow me.â
âButââ
âThatâs an order, Viktor. Wait here.â
He goes rigid, seeming taller and even more like a mountain than at any other time. Heâs never liked being separated from me for any reason. Viktor really thinks his role in life is to ensure my safety and that if he fails that lifetime mission, he has no purpose.
âItâs not a dangerous situation,â I offer in a half-assed attempt to lessen the blow, but I donât wait for his reply as I cut off the GPS transmission to the car. If I donât, heâll follow the signal until he finds me and insist we fly back to New York immediately.
After making sure Iâm the only one with the tracking signal, I grab the snowmobileâs handlebars and go off like a bullet in the snow.
It takes me about fifteen minutes to reach her, but Sasha stopped moving five minutes after I started.
Her location is inert in the middle of the vast field she was running through earlier, and the area looks to be deserted. I had thought she was headed toward a village nearby, but that doesnât appear to be the case.
I pick up speed to climb a hill that separates me from the field. After I reach the top, I catch a glimpse of a warehouse. The structure is creepily similar to the one where my men died in our last mission for the military.
Iâm someone whoâs always followed his instincts. That, coupled with quick reflexes, has saved me from death countless times.
And now, my instinct is screaming at me to turn around and speed in the opposite direction.
I donât.
Because that would mean leaving Sasha with her lover, and that option is simply not on the table or even beneath it.
However, the view that materializes in front of me does make me question my reasons for being here.
Not far from the warehouse stand men dressed in black, their faces hidden with balaclavas like in some terrorist snuff movie.
All of them have rifles slung across their chests, except for one whoâs holding a gun.
Although her coat looks different and her face is hidden, I know itâs Sasha. I gave her that gun soon after we got to New York, and she scratched an âSâ on the handle because it looks too similar to Maksimâs gun, and she wanted to avoid a mix-up.
Red alerts go off in my head. Most of them start and end with ârun.â
A lot of questions sling through my head. First, who the fuck are these people? How is Sasha related to them? But most importantly, why the fuck does this smell like a trap?
Because it is, you fucking idiot.
I start to turn the snowmobile, but itâs too late. The man beside Sasha opens fire.
Pain explodes in my chest, and I lose my grip on the handlebars. The snowmobile and I tumble down the hill, flipping twice.
Motherfucking fuck.
I try to control the fall, but itâs impossible on such a steep hill. Pain flares from my wound, but I donât think itâs near any vital organsâ
âNo!â Her raw shout echoes in the air as another bullet hits me in the chest. Again.
This time, I canât attempt to control anything.
I fall and roll, and my vision turns misty red. Not due to the wound or the fact that Iâm probably dying.
Itâs the reality of knowing that Sasha led me here so that whoever these men are would kill me.
She betrayed me.
Fuck.
Sasha betrayed me.
All the fight leaves my limbs as my world turns black.