Page 18 of To Love a Monster (Oaths & Obsessions #1)

Nikolai

I stay frozen, every breath locked behind my ribs as Carl lets out a slow exhale. He shifts, leaning against something solid. I can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator behind him, the silence between each breath tight and measured.

“Authorization confirmed. Begin extraction.” Her voice lands clean and cold across the line. Carl doesn’t answer right away. When he does, there’s a flicker of hesitation beneath the smooth delivery.

“I just need a little more time,” he says. “There was a delay.” A pause. “I’ve been gaining her trust,” he adds quickly, filling the space. “She’s still a little skittish, but she’s letting me in. She came to me last night. Things were ... progressing until someone, something, smashed the windows.”

He clears his throat, covers fast. “But don’t worry. I handled it. Played it off. She didn’t question it.” The woman doesn’t respond right away. When she does, her voice is sharper than before.

“Do you believe someone’s onto us?”

Carl answers quickly, too quickly. “No. Just a fluke. Probably kids. Small town, shit like that happens.” Another pause. Her silence says she doesn’t believe him. Not entirely.

“Don’t get comfortable,” she warns. “Matteo received the message. He’s not stupid. He’ll have eyes on the girl. Possibly on you. Proceed with caution.”

“Understood,” Carl replies, his voice a little tighter now. Then she says it.

“I want her ready by tomorrow night. No delays.” My stomach knots. Tomorrow night.

“Leave it to me,” Carl says. “She won’t see it coming.”

He ends the call feed with a click. Fuck . My chair scrapes back violently as I stand, pacing once, twice. My hands are fists. My pulse like thunder. They’re going to take her tomorrow night. The words echo like a gunshot behind my eyes.

My pulse is a roar in my ears, fast and wild, too fast. I pace once, twice, then stop, dragging a hand down my face.

I need to get her out. But where? Where could I take her that they wouldn’t follow?

That the Syndicate wouldn’t burn to the ground just to find her?

And if I do move her, what then? She’ll ask questions.

Rightfully so, too. She deserves answers.

I press my hands to the table, forcing myself to breathe, to think.

I could tell her the truth. Everything. Matteo will hate it, but she deserves to be prepared.

To know what she’s up against. And if I can’t protect her every second, if something happens, I want her armed with knowledge, not blind in the dark.

But then what? Do I ask her to run, knowing she’ll look over her shoulder forever? I shut my eyes for a long second. I need to speak to Matteo. Lay it out clean and get his clearance, or force his hand. With her involved, this is so much bigger now.

I reach for my phone and hit the encrypted line to launch a video call. Matteo answers on the third ring as the screen flickers.

He’s wearing his usual dark suit with no tie. Cigarette smoke curling in lazy spirals. The light is low, just enough to cast deep shadows along the hard lines of his jaw. His eyes are sharp and black as oil. Nothing like Lila’s light eyes.

Matteo is a man who’s built empires out of silence.

He doesn’t need to be loud to be dangerous.

He builds his reputation on whispers and everyone who ignores them ends up buried.

His power is in the way he breathes through storms without flinching.

The way his presence alone clears a room before he ever has to raise his voice.

The screen flickers once, then steadies.

He’s seated in a leather-backed chair, marble walls behind him, low light catching on the gold rings of his fingers.

A glass sits untouched on the table beside him, half full and unmoved.

The cigarette between his fingers burns steady, untouched.

His eyes lift, sharp and calculated as he raises one brow. “Nikolai.”

“I’ve got the proof you asked for,” I say. No greeting, no easing in. He leans forward slightly, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “I’m listening.” I breathe once, steady. Then I speak.

“I cloned his laptop last night. Broke in while he was out. The files were buried, but not protected enough. He got sloppy.” Matteo doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move.

“There were photos. Dozens. Of Jake and his wife. They were tortured and killed. It looks like it happened inside the local hardware store.” That gets him.

Not visibly, not to the untrained eye. But I catch it.

A pause, too precise to be accidental, a twitch in the muscle near his jaw.

His fingers tighten slightly against each other as I keep going.

“I pulled local police reports. Two days after they were reported missing, an anonymous tip came in, claimed they were guilty of fraud. Said they fled the country to avoid prosecution, so it was enough to shut the case down. Warrants were issued and the search was dropped.” I hold his gaze.

“They didn’t run, Matteo. They were silenced. Executed . Someone rewrote their story so no one would keep looking.” Matteo exhales slowly through his nose, the smoke from his cigarette coils up like a serpent, slow, patient, deadly.

“I knew Carl was a plant,” he murmurs. “I just didn’t realize he was that fucking embedded.” He leans back a fraction, the weight of what I’ve said folding into the corners of his expression.

“There’s more.” That brings his eyes back to mine. Harder now.

“Go on,” he says, flicking ash off his cigarette and narrowing his eyes.

“I didn’t just grab the data, I got into his phone. Managed to secure real-time access. Every call, every message. GPS. It’s clean, passive clone feed. He won’t notice.”

His expression doesn’t shift, but I can feel the pulse of interest behind his stillness. “And?”

“A few minutes ago, he received a call from an encrypted line. The woman on the other end, she gave him the go-ahead. Told him she wants Lila ready by tomorrow night, after dark.” His face doesn’t change, but something cold settles in his gaze.

I speak the last part slowly, knowing full well he is not going to like what comes out of my mouth next.

“I recognized her voice.” Matteo blinks once. Waits.

“It’s Annalise.” Matteo leans back, slowly, like something venomous just slithered into the room.

“I thought she was in Berlin.”

“Apparently not.” A beat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matteo mutters, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “That woman doesn’t touch field work. She doesn’t move unless there’s blood money involved. If she’s on this, there’s a good chance that she’s the architect.”

“Not just that,” I say. “She’s given the signal. If Annalise is actively involved in this and openly communicating with field agents, then the Syndicate’s done planning. They’re moving.” Matteo’s eyes sharpen to ice. Annalise. The White Widow in Syndicate circles. High command and never public.

Never seen unless she wants to be and well known for orchestrating high-level abductions, political pressure, blackmail campaigns. But this ... this feels a bit more personal.

I hesitate to speak again, just long enough for him to notice. Matteo leans forward again. His eyes flicker when he sees it, the shift in my posture, the tension behind my silence. It’s like he already knows what I’m about to say, what I’m thinking. But I say it anyway

“Matteo, I don’t think Lila should be left in the dark anymore.”

“No.” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. His tone is flat and final.

“She’s exposed, Matteo. I’m gaining her trust, but so is Carl. Her guard is down with both of us. That makes her vulnerable.”

“She’s always been vulnerable,” he snaps, but it’s not anger, it’s control. “That’s why you’re there.” I hold his gaze.

“You asked me to keep her safe,” I say, my voice low and steady.

“And I have. I have spent every second since being assigned to this job doing what I can to keep her safe. I’ve done it without asking questions.

” I lean in slightly, words clipped and exact.

“But I can only protect her to the full extent of what I’m capable of . .. if you trust me to do my job.”

I hold his gaze. “I need room to move, to tell her what she needs to hear, not just what keeps your conscience clean. Right now, I’m playing defense with one hand tied behind my back.

You want her safe?” I shake my head. “Then stop treating her like a ghost you can lock away in silence. She’s already in the middle of a fucking battlefield getting fired at from all angles.

She just doesn’t know it and in my experience, that’s what gets people killed. ”

He’s silent for a few moments as he leans back, the cigarette finally reaching his lips again as he takes a long drag. Measured and precise.

“You want to tell her everything?” he asks, voice cool enough to blister, like frostbite hiding beneath a calm surface.

“That she was born into blood? That the name she wears isn’t hers?

That everything she’s built for herself is balanced on a lie I crafted to keep her alive?

” He exhales smoke, leaning forward on his desk again, eyes narrowing.

“You think that won’t shatter her? That she won’t spiral? Think she won’t run from you the second she finds out you knew all along and didn’t say a word? That you were sent by a stranger to watch her?” His voice drops lower, darker now.

“Or worse, what if she doesn’t believe you at all? What if she thinks you’re manipulating her?” he pushes but I interrupt before he can carry on.