Page 30 of To Love a Monster (Oaths & Obsessions #1)

Lila

I sit curled into the corner of the couch, my eyes flicking from the window to the door and back again. My phone’s on the coffee table next to the files we’d just gone through. Nikolai’s been gone for less than an hour.

I breathe in, out, and repeat. Trying to calm myself but every tick of the clock feels louder than the last. My fingers twitch and the mug in my hands is still half-full of cold tea.

It’s fine. I’m fine . I tell myself this over and over again. Nothing is happening tonight . We’re just going to prep everything. Come up with a strategy. Nikolai said Carl wouldn’t make a move until tomorrow. That tonight was just for baiting the hook, not triggering the trap.

I try to redirect the spiral. Try to think like him, cold, clear, and calculated. He said I’d be safe, that the perimeter is tight, that the cameras are up. That no matter what happens, he’ll see everything.

Still, something inside me won't settle. I set the mug down and stand. Maybe I just need something a tad stronger to take the edge off.

Wine. Yeah, now that sounds like a plan. I’ll have a glass of wine, take a deep breath, and maybe listen to some calm music.

I move toward the kitchen, the floor creaking beneath me. I reach for the cabinet where I know the bottle is, already picturing the soft glug of red liquid into glass. And that’s when I hear it, a knock at the door.

It’s not loud, not frantic. Just three soft taps.

The sound cuts through the cabin like a blade and my whole body locks.

My hand freezes on the bottle of wine. My heart feels like it’s stopped as the knock sounds again three more times.

There was no lead up to it. No wind, no footsteps before it.

No sound of a car pulling up outside. Just.. .

“Lila?” a voice calls from the other side, smooth and familiar.

I swallow, every muscle in my body tightening like a wire pulled too tight.

He shouldn’t be here yet, he was only meant to come tomorrow night.

My hand is still wrapped around the wine bottle and I set it down carefully, like it might shatter if I move too fast. My fingers are trembling and I press them flat against the counter, trying to breathe past the sick twist in my stomach.

He knocks again, harder this time. Like he already knows I’m standing here, like he can smell the fear.

I force myself to breathe. Sure, it’s not part of the plan but if he’s planning to strike tomorrow night then maybe he’s just coming by to set the trap.

To make plans to see me tomorrow, like what I was going to do anyway.

This isn’t going one hundred percent according to plan, but I can’t let my nerves show and risk him becoming suspicious.

So I walk over, put on a big smile and turn the knob.

He’s standing on the porch like he owns the air around him. His shoulders are relaxed, one hand is tucked into the pocket of his tailored jacket and the other is holding a bottle of red. The smile on his face is easy but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

They’re darker tonight, almost sharper. Watching me like a vulture watches a rabbit that doesn’t know it’s already bleeding.

His posture is casual but there’s a tension underneath.

A stillness that makes my stomach twist. “Sorry to drop in unannounced,” he says, voice honey-warm.

“Thought I’d catch you before the day slipped away completely. ”

Remember the plan. I tell myself. Act normal. Keep him talking. Be who he thinks you are . His face appears the same. Same disarming smile and the same perfectly disheveled hair. But something’s different now, like his energy is slightly off.

“Oh, Carl! Hi,” I say, and my voice doesn’t even shake. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Couldn’t wait,” he says. “Thought I’d have you try this new wine I picked up and see if it’s something you like.

” He lifts the bottle slightly, cradled like a gift.

“Also wanted to ask if you’d be up for supper tomorrow night.

Just two friends having a good time. I’d really like to get to know you better. ” It’s said lightly, very casually.

My mouth moves before my brain catches up. “Oh, that’s great.” Every instinct in me is screaming to not let him in but I step aside anyway, forcing my lips into something that looks like a smile. “Come on in. You can open it up and I'll grab the glasses.”

Before I even finish my sentence, he steps inside like the place belongs to him, like my invitation was a formality he never needed. His eyes flick over everything, fast and practiced. A quiet sweep of corners, windows and shadows. Not admiring, but assessing.

Then he veers straight into the kitchen and opens the drawer next to the sink, pulling out the bottle opener as his gaze lands on the baking tray by the stove, taking in the burnt rosemary and blackened chicken.

“You smell that?” he asks, his tone light, but there’s something sharp glinting underneath. “Burnt rosemary?”

I freeze, just for a second, then nod. “Dinner went to hell earlier. I completely forgot it was in the oven.”

He lifts the tray slightly and peers down at it. The skin is crisped to a deep, flaked charcoal. He smirks and lowers it again. Then casually reaches for the wine and pours it into a glass without waiting. “That’s a lot of food for one person,”

I shrug, forcing a casual tone. “I was going to have it for supper and then leftovers for lunch tomorrow.” He hums low in his throat, like maybe he buys it. Maybe not. Either way, he doesn’t press.

He takes another glass down from the cabinet, one for me, and pours wine like we’ve done this a dozen times before. He swirls it once, then holds it out to me. “Here,” he says. “Try it. I think you’ll like it.”

I hesitate but only for a breath, then I take it, fingers brushing his for the briefest second. I don’t sip, just nod and hold it. He takes a long drink as he turns and asks, “Mind if I sit?”

I shake my head, and he moves past me to the living room, slow and deliberate as he sinks into the couch like he’s settling into his favorite chair.

My hand tightens around the wine glass like it might anchor me in place before I float out of my own skin. Then, while his back is turned, my fingers slide to my phone on the counter. I keep my body still, as still as possible, my expression neutral as I type out a quick message.

He’s here.

I hit SEND but there’s no confirmation. That’s when I see that there’s no signal bar. Shit .

Then I see Carl freeze as his gaze drops to the table, his eyes landing on the files I forgot to clear. He tilts his head, brow furrowed with vague interest and he reaches down, opening one of them slow and casual, like he’s flipping through a takeout menu.

I try to see which one it is, but he slips a photo out before I can get a glimpse.

Tucks it between his fingers then drops the folder back onto the table like it bored him.

He settles his glass on the coffee table and stands, turning enough for me to see that he has Jake’s photos gripped in his hand.

My throat closes and I glance down at my phone again but there’s still no signal. I switch to airplane mode and back again but there’s still nothing but dead silence. Then Carl chuckles, it’s a low, rolling sound, like he’s enjoying something far too much.

“You can try texting him all you want,” he says, holding the photo between two fingers like it’s a joke, “but Nikolai won’t be getting shit.

” I don’t speak, don’t move as a smile spreads across his face, sharp and unkind.

“It’s a little trick I picked up in Morocco.

Portable jammer. Covers most basic signals within a thirty-foot radius.

” He taps the side of his coat pocket. “Nikolai’s not the only one who knows how to fuck with tech, you know. ”

I finally find my voice but it feels thin and fragile. “What do you want from me?” I hate that he can hear the fear behind it. My pulse thrums in my ears and I can feel it everywhere, my wrists, my throat, the center of my spine.

He knows about Nikolai. He’s standing in this room with a goddamn photo in his hand.

And if he really jammed the signal... Then that means Nikolai probably doesn’t know he’s here.

That thought alone nearly knocks the air completely out of me.

If he doesn’t know what’s happening, then I’m alone. Really alone and royally screwed.

Carl doesn’t answer as he steps closer, closing in as he holds up the picture like it’s a playing card. “So,” he says, tilting his head slightly, “what do you think of this? How do you like my handiwork?” My stomach drops and I don’t answer. The blood in my veins feels too loud, too hot.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t usually get my hands dirty, you know.

Not part of the job description, at least not mine.

I’m more of the ‘observe, infiltrate, extract’ kind.

Clean and efficient. Paid for silence, not mess.

” He glances at the photo again, his mouth curling at the edge.

“But that one?” His eyes flick up and meet mine. “That one I enjoyed.”

He doesn’t wait. “You know what I remember most about Jake?” he asks, voice dropping. “The sound he made when I broke his jaw. It was like solid glass cracking underwater.”

I swallow, bile rising.

“He fought,” Carl continues. “I’ll give him that. Even after we started on the girl, he tried to crawl to her. Couldn’t see out of either eye by then, but he still moved. Still begged.” He pauses, eyes gleaming like he’s replaying it in his mind.