Heart of My Monster (Monster Trilogy #3) by Rina Kent

“What am I supposed to do if I don’t come to protect you?”

“Look for who did this.” I throw the hair towel down and stare out of the window at the pitch-black darkness outside. The cabin might appear old and unkempt, but the glass is double-glazed and bulletproof. The walls are thick enough that it’s hard to hear the night animals chirping outside.

“Which is why I should go to the scene to gather evidence,” Viktor says.

“I doubt there’s anything left. They probably cleaned out their corpses by now.”

“Is it the Ivanovs?”

“I thought that as well. It makes sense that they’d come to rescue Anton, but their weapons weren’t of the variety we located at the warehouse during that mission. I doubt they changed weapons since the last operation after Sasha came back. Besides, they attacked her.”

“Or she could be faking it to play along and trap you.”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about, Viktor.”

“She still belongs to the family who is out to eliminate you. I suspected it all this time, but she was the one who lured you to Russia before you got shot, wasn’t she?”

“Drop it.”

“No can do. You’re trusting her too much when she hasn’t proven to be loyal to you since she returned.”

“How the fuck is she supposed to do that when she believes I hurt her family?”

“How about not thinking you’re subhuman enough to orchestrate the murder of children?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s annoyingly right, and I want to punch him, but since that option isn’t available through the phone, I release a breath. “Have you heard from Makar lately?”

He pauses, probably caught by surprise at the change of subject. “No. Doesn’t he have direct contact with you?”

“Look for him. The last location I know of is that he was in Chicago.”

“Why should I locate him?”

“Because he’s the traitor. Sasha thinks I tried to kill her in that cottage, because she saw Makar. I want to know who the fuck sent him there.”

“On it.” He pauses. “And be careful. I’m not in the mood to collect corpses.”

I stare at the phone after he hangs up. The asshole is being more daring than usual lately. It’s mostly due to a lack of sleep, which I should probably be apologetic for.

The thing is, I didn’t ask him to be an annoying shadow. He picked that position himself, and he needs to take full responsibility for it.

“Was that Viktor?”

I slowly turn around at Sasha’s voice. I fully expected her to go to sleep, or pretend to, and to have to wake her up for round two.

Good thing no waking will be happening, since it’s guaranteed to make her cranky.

She stands by the stairs, wearing a woolen dress with a cut-out in the middle. It’s one of the pieces of clothing I had delivered here earlier today when I devised this plan to corner her in a place where it’s only the two of us.

No Karina, Rai, Anna, Kristina, or my fucking guards.

What? She chose to direct her attention toward them instead of me, and I’m not a fan of being a side character in my wife’s life.

I head to the minibar and pour two glasses of vodka, then offer one to her. “Yeah. Viktor.”

She takes a sip and side-eyes mine. “Since when are you a vodka person?”

“Since I’m trying to placate my wife.”

She stops herself before rolling her eyes, but she smiles and hides it by taking another sip.

I mirror her, tolerating the bland vodka. Now, I’m sure my Russian ancestors would turn in their graves and curse me to the lowest pit in hell for that statement. Viktor even accused me of being a ‘fake Russian’ for slandering the holy messiah of his existence.

Maksim also said I should apologize to his Russian blood.

Lucky for them, my beautiful wife loves the drink, and, therefore, I’ll refrain from any unnecessary shit-talking.

Sasha takes her vodka seriously. She sits on the sofa, her stance somewhat relaxed as she relishes every sip. My attention is completely stolen by the soft features of her face and the wet blonde strands that fall to her neck.

But the masterpiece is the large hickey I left on the side of her throat earlier. The belt’s red marks surround it, bruising her skin as evidence of who owns her.

Spoiler alert: That would be me.

After a few moments of silence, she raises her head, and her eyes widen the slightest bit when she finds me leaning against the cabinet and staring.

She clears her throat. “You’re really asking Viktor to look for Makar?”

“Someone’s developed eavesdropping habits.”

“I didn’t mean to… I just happened to be passing by.”

Just how much of the conversation did she hear? Thankfully, she couldn’t have listened to Viktor’s atrocious comments, since those certainly don’t play in my favor.

“If you asked Viktor to search for him, that means you don’t know where he is.”

“Or what he’s done.”

“Or that,” she repeats in a low, soft voice.

“Do you believe me now?”

She takes a long sip and releases a sigh. “I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”

“Do you think the men who attacked us tonight were sent by your family?”