Heart of My Monster (Monster Trilogy, #3)

by Rina Kent

To the beautiful, depraved corner of your soul

I’m a man with no morals or feelings. The only reason I made it this far is to reign. Nothing and no one will stop me. Or that should’ve been the plan. Now, my only goal is to get back the woman who belongs to me. Sasha thinks it’s all over, but we’re only getting started. She’s my woman. My partner. My wife. Mine.

Konstantin actually hugs me. The cheesy fucking asshole, I swear. I pat his back. Only for show. Nothing else. Absolutely nothing. I don’t even remember the last time I hugged this little shit. Probably when we were kids. He still gives clingy hugs. He hugs like a girl. Just saying. Once this whole thing is over, I’ll be Pakhan and I’ll go to celebrate with my woman. No, my wife.

God forbid anyone speak ill of any woman in front of Rai. She’ll skin them alive and wear it as fur.

“Please join me in welcoming the new Pakhan,” Sergei says. “Kirill.”

A body lies on the stretcher, covered by a white sheet. The smell of sickeningly burned flesh clogs my nostrils, but that’s not the reason I find it hard to breathe. It’s the black skeleton-like hand peeking from beneath the sheet. I approach it slowly, my movements stiff and unnatural. I take the roasted hand in my shaky one. Ash and burned flesh smudge my skin, but the only thing I’m focused on is the ring burned into the second to last finger. I rub the top of it, and my heart fucking falls to my knees when the green is exposed. No. I remove it with some of the flesh, and Kirill’s stares me right in the face. Fucking no. I frantically check her other wrist, and my hand shakes uncontrollably when I find the bracelet I gave her for her last birthday. I struggle to separate it from the burnt skin, but when I see Sasha, a scream builds at the back of my throat. Fuck no. I don’t know how I remain standing as I remove the cover to reveal her face. Or what used to be a face. There’s a black skeleton instead. Some flesh has melted off the bone, leaving a gory mess where her eyes, nose, and lips are supposed to be. Her hair is gone, and so are any other features I could identify her with. I stand there for a long moment, studying every burn, every cut, every disfigured feature. Maybe if I stare hard enough, this scene will disappear. “Boss…” My head slowly tilts in Viktor’s direction. He looks at the burned body with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. It’s the most seriously affec...

“Wipe that fucking look off your face, Viktor. This isn’t Sasha.”

I don’t know how the fuck I sound calm when I’m on the verge of losing my fucking mind. The ring and bracelet burn in my fingers as if they...

“What the fuck are you apologizing for? This isn’t my fucki...

He doesn’t move, not eve...

“What are you waiting for? I told you to fuc...

“You already did, Kirill.” I grip him by the collar and haul him against me to peer down hi...

“Don’t fuck with me, Viktor. I told you this isn’t her, so your job is to nod your fuck...

He clasps my hand, and instead of removing it, he squeezes. “My job is to tell you hard truths, and the current one is that we were too late. Lipovsky died in the aftermath of the bombing. I understand that you don’t want to accept that⁠—” His words are cut off when I slam my fi...

“Shut the fuck up. She di...

He says nothing, but his gaze falls on the ring and bracelet I’m still clenching in my hand. He doesn’t have to speak for me to hear “You’re holding the evidence.” I lift my head and stare at the cloudy sky. It’s gray, grim, and absolutely depressing, but it doesn’t compare to the dark abyss that’s currently replaced my heart. The world has always been monotone to me—either black or gray. The only person who introduced me to a fucking rainbow of colors has now turned black. She’s now being ripped out of my heart and leaving a bottomless...

A week of Karina crying nonstop and trying to console me, only for me to shut the door in her face. Konstantin tried, too, but he was also given the cold shoulder. Not even Anna has been allowed to touch me. Apparently, Viktor told the family about Sasha’s identity so they know she’s a woman and my wife. Was. Fuck. I still can’t believe she became a was. Still, I didn’t accept anyone’s condolences. I don’t need fucking emotions. I murdered them a long time ago, and they’re not coming back. All this dizziness, disorientation, and pure fucking mania is a translation of my need for revenge.

We lost communication with Maksim after that text. Viktor sent men to look for him to no avail. And with that, we lost our only lead to the Ivanovs. As in, the founders of the Belsky Organization. I didn’t make the connection at first, but after Sasha left for the cottage, Viktor revealed that, according to the KGB intelligence, the family behind the Belsky Organization is called Ivanov.

I haven’t been in my room since I saw that body. Every corner is full of her presence, natural scent, and soft smiles. It’s full of her care, her countless attempts to put me to sleep. It’s full of her tangible concern about my well-being and safety. Every inch of me revolts at the idea of being there when she isn’t. The thought of closing my eyes without her around terrifies the fuck out of me.

Viktor advised me to cover my tracks, but fuck that. I want them to see me coming and scramble like rats. My guard curses low from behind me, then runs to cover me as the men inside filter out like ants. All I see are people who need to be dead. Every last fucking one of them. I won’t stop until they’re all buried six feet under like she is.

I feel nothing but fucking rage now. If Sasha were here, she’d kill anyone who attempted to hurt me. If she were to see this wound, she’d fawn over me with affection and concern. For the first time in my life, I felt like my well-being mattered and that I meant the world to someone else. And now, that someone who made me the center of her world has disappeared, turning mine into an abyss.

“I can do this all night long. I’ll bring your wife and children, too. I’ll slaughter each and every one of them in front of your eyes. I’ll stab them so many times that you won’t recognize their fucking corpses. Just like I didn’t recognize her corpse.”

But I know—I just know—that nothing will ever fill the hole that’s been growing bigger and deeper in my chest. The only person who knew how is now gone.

I grab her by the shoulder and push her away. Nausea rises in my throat at the reminder of the last hug Sasha gave me. And I refuse to let anyone else take that memory. My wife loved this cheesy shit. She loved hugging me and trying to comfort me. She also loved singing and kissing. But then she left and took away her hugs, her smiles, and even her infuriating arguing. The idea of being hugged makes me want to stab myself in the fucking gut and watch as my blood pours out.

I didn’t know what happiness meant until I slept like a fucking baby in Sasha’s arms. There were no nightmares, no thoughts about the future. Just…silence. For the first time in forever, I had a break from my brain and just felt. Now that the feeling is fucking gone, I want to confiscate everyone’s happiness, crush it to pieces, and bathe in its blood. I need to turn their worlds as black as mine.

Could I disappear as easily? No. Not yet. I still haven’t found the motherfucker who ordered her death. This isn’t fucking over.

I close my eyes and rest my head on the tiles as the cold water beats down on me. Soft arms wrap around my waist from behind, and warmth clashes with the freezing water. Her small hands stroke along my sides and pectoral muscles as she lays her head on my back. I feel her lips on my nape, kissing me gently. I want to turn around and look at her, but if I open my eyes, she’ll disappear. She always does. So I twist the wedding ring she slipped on my finger the day she said, ‘I do.’ I’ve been wearing it since I saw her body in the back of the ambulance. My hand feels heavy, though, like it weighs a ton now that hers doesn’t wear her ring.

“You need to sleep, Kirill.”

Her soft voice carries in the air like a fu...

“Your body will eventually give ...

Sasha sounds so worried in my imagination. She always was. There were times when I thought she went over the top to protect me, but it wasn’t until after she was gone that I realized it was her way of showing her affection toward me. She proved in actions more than words how much she loved me. I will remind you of the girl who protected...

“If I die, will I be able to...

I whisper in the silence of t...

“What are you talking about? You were born for greater things, not to die, Kirill. You’re the Pak...

“No. What’s the point of being Pakhan if I couldn...

“You always had your priorities straight, and I was n...

“That’s not fucki...

I whirl around and curse under my breath when her warmth disappears. Fuck. Disgusted with my own skin, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my middle. It doesn’t matter that I changed rooms. She’s everywhere. Her soul clings to every corner and every fucking person in this house. But maybe that’s not a bad thing. If her ghost fucking haunts me and blames me for her death, I’ll still welcome it. At least she’ll be here. I put on another suit and head to my office. The door opens as I snag a bottle of Macallan from the minibar. I don...

She didn’t die so I could follow her. At least, not yet. I need to find out who the fuck took her from me first. Only when I rip their heart out with my bare hands will I be able to join her.

Why the hell did I have to give my heart to the man who destroyed me? Not once, but twice.

“The only man-child in this equation is your brother, who has small dick energy.” “You speak as if your dick is all that impressive.” “You know it is.”

considering he’s collected to a fault. Maksim rattles him—or his rage toward him does. Interesting.

“Are you an attention whore?” Anton’s voice returns to normal. Maksim raises his head slowly, the cards clenched in his fist. “The fuck you just say?” My brother’s lips tilt in a smirk. “Take a hint already. She’s a woman and was never interested in you.” “Shut the fuck up.” “What? You’re embarrassed that your crush turned out to be a woman?” Maksim lunges up, and so does Anton. I lift myself in time to stop both of their punches.

“You had no fucking right to reveal that,” Maksim grinds through his teeth. “I don’t give a fuck.” Anton stares down at me. “Maksim is gay, and since he thought you were a man, he had a crush on you. Now, all his hopes are destroyed. Just like that.” “You fucking⁠—”

She’s been gone from my life for fifty-three days, and I still can’t go into my old room. Avoiding my old room is pointless since I see her in every corner of my house, the garden, and even out in the streets. She’s fucking everywhere. It’s impossible to purge her out of my system or find closure. In fact, I refuse to.

After Viktor threatened me with his own life—which isn’t something he’s done before—I had to force myself into my current role. The role I might have unknowingly chosen over Sasha. It means nothing without her, but if I give it up, all I have left is death.

Most days, I’m too numb to feel anything, but on other days, the cloud is too close. The gloominess suffocates my breathing, my being, and everything I’ve ever strived for. Some days, I’m hit with the fact that I won’t see her shadowing me and competing with Viktor over who can protect me better. And then there are the days where I wonder why I’m still breathing when she isn’t. This is one of those days. I need all these fucking people out of my face so that I can get drunk at her grave like I do every day. The few hours I sleep against the tree opposite her tombstone is the only sleep I ever get, and even that is riddled with nightmares of her corpse.

Living without her is similar to falling back into that weak, aimless, and absolutely pathetic version of myself. No. I had a purpose then. Now, I have fucking nothing. I snatch a bottle of vodka on my way out. While I don’t like the stuff, Sasha did. It was her favorite drink on the rare occasion she consumed alcohol. She was a stereotypical Russian who loved her vodka. Now, it’s my poison of choice.

I halt in my tracks when a very familiar face walks toward us, wearing cargo pants and a disheveled T-shirt. “Maksim.” He offers a strained smile. “Long time no see, Boss.” I approach him slowly, as if I’m witnessing another ghost other than Sasha’s persistent one. Short of some healing bruises on his face, he looks exactly like the Maksim I know. “He got out of a cab in front of the mansion,” Viktor offers. “The guards at the front called to tell me about his arrival.”

“What the fuck happened?”