Lies of My Monster: A Dark Mafia Romance(5)

Interesting.

She’s using different means of transport. Again, to avoid being followed.

The fact that she’s 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, she’s an orphan. She’s 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.

She’s just a fuck buddy. Someone who submits to my dominance and gets off on it.

And yet…she isn’t.

I have no clue why Sasha is special to me, but I know she is.

She. Fucking. Is.

And I’ll 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, she’s used at least four means of transportation at this point.

By the time we arrive, she’s about half an hour in. I can’t follow her on foot, because I’ll probably miss her. Or, more accurately, I’ll allow her to reunite with the fucker without my being there.

“Get me a snowmobile,” I tell Viktor.

“It might take me a while.”

“I don’t give a fuck. Make it happen.”

He steps out of the car, but juts his head back in.

“What?” I snap.

“If you were a woman, I’d say you’re PMS’ing, but you’re not. So I’m not sure how to categorize this behavior.”

“Then don’t, and do as you’re told.”

He stares at me for a beat, as if making sure I’m the same person he’s known his whole life, shakes his head, and finally goes to make himself useful.

It takes him fifteen minutes I don’t 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. “I’ll drive.”

“No, you’ll stay here until I get back.”

“I’m not letting you go in the middle of nowhere alone.”

“You don’t have a say in it. Don’t follow me.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, Viktor. Wait here.”

He goes rigid, seeming taller and even more like a mountain than at any other time. He’s 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.

“It’s not a dangerous situation,” I offer in a half-assed attempt to lessen the blow, but I don’t wait for his reply as I cut off the GPS transmission to the car. If I don’t, he’ll follow the signal until he finds me and insist we fly back to New York immediately.

After making sure I’m the only one with the tracking signal, I grab the snowmobile’s 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 doesn’t 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.

I’m someone who’s 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 don’t.

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 who’s holding a gun.

Although her coat looks different and her face is hidden, I know it’s Sasha. I gave her that gun soon after we got to New York, and she scratched an ‘S’ on the handle because it looks too similar to Maksim’s gun, and she wanted to avoid a mix-up.

Red alerts go off in my head. Most of them start and end with ‘run.’

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 it’s 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.