Lies of My Monster (Monster Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

I tap my chest, fruitlessly trying to eliminate the knot that’s growing there.

No, it’s not their revenge. It’s mine, too.

I lost as much as they did. And I don’t only mean my parents and the rest of my family, but also my identity and my femininity. I’m nothing more than an entity of violence now who can never go back to the way things were.

That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on retribution, but right now, as Kirill battles against death, I can’t think about that lifelong mission.

My main concern is getting him out of here alive. I might not have been able to save him on that hill, but I’ll put my life on the line to ensure his safety now.

“Lipovsky.”

I turn around at the sound of Viktor’s voice, and my face flies sideways from his brutal punch. My cheek stings and red drips on the hospital tiles from my lip. I can feel my mouth swelling within a fraction of a second.

That hurts.

What’s with people slapping, hitting, and punching me today? And that’s not counting the metaphorical stab I felt when my own uncle shot Kirill.

Why can’t this day fucking end already?

Despite the pain, I stand erect and face my assailant. Viktor’s expression has never been welcoming, but as he stares at me right now, I have the urgent need to run before he squashes me between his fingers.

“I told you I’d punch you. In fact, I’m in the mood to shoot you, but I need you to answer my questions first.”

“If you shoot me, we’ll have less security for Kirill. You and I both know we need all the help we can get under these extraordinary circumstances, so why don’t we call a truce?”

“Fuck that. How could you let this happen? In fact, care to explain why he was shot right in front of you?”

I purse my lips. If Viktor finds out the truth, a punch will be the least of my problems. He’ll kill me without thinking twice.

And I can’t just die before making sure Kirill is home safe and sound.

Sure, he might be the one to kill me once he wakes up, but I’m ready to face his wrath and everything he has to dish out as long as he’s alive.

I wipe the corner of my lip with the back of my hand. “That’s not important right now. If we don’t get him out of here soon, he’ll be in mortal danger.”

“Haven’t you heard what the doctor said? We can’t move him out of the ICU before he wakes up.”

I know that, I do. But the threat of an attack from my uncle is imminent at this point. I can’t hurt the only father figure I have or indirectly cause harm to Mike and even Babushka.

She might have disowned me, but the three of them are all I have left.

But at the same time, allowing anyone to hurt Kirill is out of the question.

“What happened, Lipovsky?” Viktor insists.

“He’ll tell you when he wakes up.”

“Bullshit.” He grabs me by the arm and shakes me until he nearly dislodges all my cells. “What’s the deal with you, little fucker? You’re always roaming around him and sticking close, despite your subpar skills. Are you perhaps threatening him with something? Why would he put trackers on you and follow you all alone to the middle of fucking nowhere?”

He…put trackers on me? Plural?

Now, it makes sense that he could follow me so closely. I honestly thought the only tracker he could put on me was the one on my phone, but, of course, he’s always one step ahead. He must’ve slipped one in my jacket when he kissed me or something.

God, to think that I could’ve prevented this whole nightmare by checking my belongings makes me want to scream.

“Answer me.” Viktor shakes me again.

I twist my arm free from his brutal hold and raise my chin. “I told you to ask him when he wakes up. Our priority is to get him out of here before we’re attacked again.”

“Listen to me, Lipovsky—”

“No, you listen to me, Viktor! I know you’re suspicious and want to find out what happened, but I’m telling you that now is not the time. You need to channel your energy into flying him out of here, and only when he’s safe can we talk about this.”

He reaches an open-palmed hand to me, but before he can bash my head against the nearest surface, a nurse peeks from around the corner.

The smile on her face falters upon seeing the tension between us, but she still says, “The patient just woke up.”

My stomach dips, and an urgent need to cry hits me again, but I manage to rein in those emotions as I kill the distance between us and ask in a word vomit, “Is he fully conscious? Were there any side effects? Did he speak? Can he breathe without the machines? Did the doctor mention anything about his ability to fly? Will there be any complications due to cabin pressure?”

She offers me a kind smile. “You can ask the doctor all of those questions.”

Viktor and I basically jog to the room Kirill is being treated in. The bodyguards, probably mercenaries, judging by their aloof stance, are stationed by the door.

Through the glass, I catch a glimpse of the doctor and another nurse injecting something into Kirill’s IV drip.

His eyes are open, but they’re unfocused and look almost dead. Their intense blue color is dull and washed out, like the endless snow in Russian winter—lifeless and without purpose.

Heartless and…cruel.