Page 32 of To Love a Monster (Oaths & Obsessions #1)

Nikolai

T he gravel crunches under my boots as I pull up to the cabin. I kill the engine, step out, and the silence hits me like a fist. There are no birds, there’s no wind, just that sharp, unnatural calm that has my mind racing with only one thought, I’m too late.

My fingers twitch toward the gun at my side. My pulse ticks louder with every step up the porch as I see the front door is ajar. The wood underfoot creaks as I push the door open even more. The air inside is thick with something sour and metallic. Blood.

My eyes sweep the room fast, noting that the living room is in disarray. There’s a wine glass shattered near the coffee table, all of the files scattered except for one that lies open. The one with Jake’s photos in. His picture is smeared with a fingerprint, faint but red.

And Lila’s phone is on the floor, her screen is up and still on. A single notification blinks across the screen like a pulse. 1 video. Playback paused.

I pick it up and my thumb hovers for a second before I press play.

The video is from the vent camera and the first frame hits like a sucker punch to the gut.

There she is. Smiling and laughing. She has that soft, nervous edge she gets when she’s trying to pretend everything is normal.

Trying to be sweet as she plays the part he expects and she looks beautiful. Brave.

But I know what’s coming next. Carl steps into frame and the screen takes on a weight I can feel in my spine.

He moves like he owns the room, like he’s already decided how the night ends.

I watch him pour wine and talk, drifting through her space like it belongs to him.

He brushes past her, too close, and she laughs again but I see it, the tension in her jaw.

The way she doesn’t blink enough, the way she keeps glancing at the door like she’s waiting for me to burst in.

My jaw clenches when I see the moment everything shifts. His expression changes just slightly, like a mask slipping. I see her check her phone and type something quickly. Probably a text to me. I see her glance at the screen and I can already guess what she saw. No bars, no way out.

Her face stills but only for a heartbeat and then she’s smiling again. Then it begins. I see the files, the moment he finds Jake’s photo. The second her eyes dart, just barely, toward the camera vent, toward me, and it kills me knowing she was trying to tell me she needed help.

I see him corner her and step into her space.

Her shoulders tighten, her hand flinching back as he lifts the photo.

The way he speaks to her, low and intimate like he’s sharing a joke no one else is in on.

I want to look away, but I can’t. I see her grab the knife, her knuckles white as she grips it like a lifeline.

And then I see him grin. He wanted her to try, wanted to see the fear change shape.

Then he moves in, closing the space and pressing her against the wall like he’s done it a hundred times. Like her body belongs to him.

She fights, but he bends her wrist at an angle that makes my teeth clench, his grip crushing until the knife clatters to the floor. Her expression shifts from fear to rage, and for a second, I see her break through it.

She spits in his face and he flinches, just barely.

And then she drives her knee up between his legs.

I surge forward, even though I know it’s useless, just muscle memory.

Like I could reach through the screen and tear him apart as she runs past him.

Fucking brilliant. Her form’s tight and sharp but he recovers too quickly.

He catches her by the hair and yanks her back with a force that jerks her entire body off balance. She screams and her hands claw at him, nails catching his cheek, but it only makes him angrier.

He throws her to the floor, her arm hits first and she lands on her elbow before rolling onto her shoulder. I see the pain ripple through her body as she folds in on herself, breath knocked clean out of her lungs. He looms over her and wipes his mouth.

Then he speaks. I can’t hear it clearly through the video, it’s too muffled, but I don’t need to. I see his mouth form the words. “I’ll make sure you kiss it better later.” My hands are shaking, rage blooming behind my ribs like fire given air.

And then he crouches. Leans in close to her as she tries to crawl back. She’s dazed, bleeding but not broken, until he punches her in the temple. Her head snaps sideways. The sound is sharp and blunt, flesh against bone. The camera catches the way her body jerks once then goes slack.

Her body is sprawled across the floorboards, blood trailing down from her hairline as one arm is bent wrong beneath her. Her face is turned toward the vent, toward me.

I press my knuckles to my mouth hard. Just to feel something real, to keep from screaming.

I’ve seen blood and broken bodies. I’ve tortured and buried people with my own hands.

But nothing has ever hollowed me out like this.

Like watching her collapse on that floor and knowing I couldn’t stop it.

That I wasn’t fucking fast enough. That she trusted me to protect her and I failed.

He stands over her, chest heaving, knuckles flexing like he’s deciding whether to hit her again. Blood streaks his cheek where she clawed him. He mutters something under his breath, too low for the mic to catch. Then he turns and looks right into the vent camera, right at me.

And he smiles. Slow and measured, the kind of smile that’s meant to draw blood without a single touch. “You’re not as good as they said you were,” Carl says. His voice calm. “Honestly? I expected so much more.”

He tilts his head, studying the lens like he can see straight through it.

“You’ve got this whole reputation goin’ on.

Ghost in the wire, nightmare in a suit. The silent one.

The cleaner . But what I see?” He chuckles, soft and sharp.

“I see a man playing soldier with his heart cracked wide open. You’re weak. ”

He shrugs, like it’s a shame, like I’ve disappointed him. “You almost had me, Nikolai. Almost made me believe you still had your edge. But that’s the thing with arrogance, it makes you soft. Makes you blind.” His smile twists, darker now.

“And falling for the girl?” He clicks his tongue. “That was your real mistake. You know better. You’ve seen it a hundred times. It’s always the ones who care that lose their grip first.” He glances back at Lila’s limp body like it’s a broken doll on the floor. Like it means nothing.

“I noticed my phone felt ... off,” Carl says, still staring dead into the vent camera. He steps closer, the shadows cutting sharper across his face as the light from the kitchen flickers behind him.

“Too much lag, too clean a signal. Someone had their claws in it.” His lips curl.

“At first, I thought it was the network. Then I remembered who’s been sniffing around.

” He taps the side of his head like it’s a game of charades, like the answer was obvious all along.

“Clever trick, Nikolai. Almost worked. Almost, but not quite.”

He leans in now, closer to the lens until the sharp edge of his features distort slightly with the proximity, his eyes like razors. “So I thought ... why not give you a show?”

His grin widens but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “She’s sweet, your girl. Mouthy, but sweet. You know the type. Fire in the eyes, tremble in the hands.” He straightens, rolling his shoulders like he’s shedding the weight of performance.

“You got sloppy,” he adds, the venom in his voice now smooth. “You let your ego write checks you couldn’t cash. Let your feelings get involved.” He sneers. “And look where that got you. Watching. Completely helpless, just like her.”

He taps a finger against his chin. “Got to admit, I was a little pissed you got the first few rounds with her. But that’s all right. I don’t mind waiting my turn.” He straightens again, cracking his neck like he’s shaking off something beneath the skin.

“I’ll be sure to give her a proper sendoff before the auction.

After all, I worked too hard to let her go without a taste, and the first buyer’s already circling.

He’s got a thing for damaged ones. Says it makes them easier to train.

So, really, I don’t think he minds if I put her through a bit of training.

” He steps back, just far enough to let the shadows eat the edges of his face.

“If you want to say goodbye...” he says, voice dropping, “you know where to come.” He pauses, then adds, almost gleefully, “Same spot we left Jake bleeding out.” His eyes flick sideways, toward something offscreen.

His jaw tenses and he turns away but stops and looks back over his shoulder one last time.

“Oh,” he says, and this time his smile is pure malice.

“Annalise sends her regards.” Then the screen goes black and everything inside me detonates.

For a second I just stare at the phone. The silence it leaves behind is louder than the video.

My reflection stares back at me in the black glass and something in my chest snaps, clean and final.

I grip the phone tight until the plastic gives.

Until the screen fractures like bone under pressure.

My knees hit the floor hard. The air leaves my lungs, but I don’t make a sound. The scream lives somewhere deep, far below speech, building like fire in a sealed room, blistering under my ribs and threatening to burst from my spine.

The cabin blurs around the edges and I press my forehead to the floorboards, my fingers curling into fists so tight I swear I feel blood rise beneath the nails.

He took her, he fucking touched her, and he made sure I watched.