Heart of My Monster (Monster Trilogy, #3)(30)

Anton barks out an obnoxious laugh that pierces my ears. “Best friend? Trust? You were and always will be a na?ve fucking fool, Sasha. This is why Kirill managed to fool you and stomp all over you.”

I get in his face, losing my cool as I push against him. “So what if I made a mistake? So what if I wanted love and stability in a fucked-up existence? Yes, I was an idiot. Yes, I trusted the wrong person, but that doesn’t mean I’ll lose my humanity because of it like you did! I’m not a robot, Tosha! I will never be a damn emotionless monster who’s fine with imprisoning his friends and driving them insane. He’s your friend, too. Or was, because you’ve definitely lost him now. I haven’t, and I won’t. Maks is one of the good ones. He has a pure, compassionate soul, which can’t be said about you.”

His nostrils flare and I can tell he’s barely stopping himself from strangling me. “You’re going to eat those words when the owner of that pure, compassionate soul betrays you. Just like Kirill.”

“I refuse to have a black heart and believe everyone is out to get me.”

“That black heart is the reason you’re still alive.”

“And I’m thankful for that, but I won’t adopt your way of thinking. You believe we should’ve kept Maks forever, but you can’t possibly be blind to how agitated he was becoming as the days went by. He had scratch marks on the back of his neck and blood beneath his nails from the aggressive way he was sinking his fingers into his skin. If he’d stayed, he might well have killed himself or you, just to end the cycle. You might not want to admit it, but I did the right thing by giving him his freedom.”

Besides, Maks and I have a plan that ensures this whole tragedy ends with me and Kirill without involving anyone else.

Not my family.

Not his family.

Just him and me.

Over the past day, I’ve been wondering how Kirill received the message. I don’t know if he really thought I was dead or if he had figured out the body wasn’t mine.

The reason I left the bracelet and ring he gave me on that corpse before we burned what remained of the cottage was for the shock effect on him.

Or…that’s what I hoped for.

Truth is, he might have welcomed it since he has a real wife now and would be glad to get rid of the fake one.

“Here’s the thing you don’t want to admit, Sasha. You fucked up big time.” Anton steps away. “We need an urgent meeting with Uncle Albert and Babushka so that we can bring up the day of the attack. We’re in a race against time now and have to get Kirill before he’s able to get us.”





Three days later, Anton, a dozen mercenaries, and I fly to New York.

My stomach has been upset since we landed. I’d like to blame it on cabin pressure, but I know that’s far from the truth.

I’m back to the place I left in tears not two months ago, and the reminder that I’ll probably also go home in tears squeezes my chest.

But that would mean I’d at least have closure.

At last.

Maybe the previous six—almost seven—years of my life will finally have an ending. Maybe the nightmares about my family’s death will finally vanish.

Though, that’s wishful thinking.

The more realistic scenario is that I’ll feel emptier than ever. I’ll lose my sense of purpose and have…nothing.

I’ll stand at the top of an abyss and long for the bottom.

All these years, I’ve resisted the urge to end it all, because I had to get revenge. Justice.

After this trip, I’ll have nothing to stop me from giving in to the urge and embracing nothingness.

Right now, I’m standing at the top of a cliff—a literal one. Under the bright moonlight slipping in and out of trees, it appears steep, nearly bottomless.

If someone were to fall down there, they’d die.

Maybe this is my abyss.

“Sasha.”

I slowly turn around to face my brother. We’re wearing similar black combat clothes, the only difference being that he’s putting on a balaclava.

As he checks his weapon, my lips part.

Seeing him in this outfit brings back memories of an incident we never found an explanation for.

“Were you the one who masterminded the attack before the shipment? The one who held the gun at Kirill’s head at the top of that container?”

He doesn’t lift his head. “And I would’ve killed him if you hadn’t foolishly defended him and even shot me.”

I wince. “You had a vest on.”

“Is that a sorry?”

“Sorry,” I murmur.

No one, not even Kirill, would’ve suspected that one of his most loyal men, Yuri, who he thought was searching for him, would hold him at gunpoint.

Now that I think about it, Yuri was uncharacteristically frowning during the entire trip back home.

He also wore his jacket closed, probably to hide a certain gunshot.

But there’s something else I remember so vividly, even when I was stupidly emotional over the prospect of Kirill being hurt.

“You…hesitated.”

My brother slowly lifts his head from his arm. “I did not.”

“You did. He had no ammunition and you could’ve shot him in the head right then and there, and while you hit him, you didn’t deliver the death blow. Is that maybe because…you also liked him? Or you didn’t believe he could be behind the massacre?”