Page 34 of To Love a Monster (Oaths & Obsessions #1)

Nikolai

T he steel stairwell groans beneath my boots as I make my way up the side of the building, each step tightening the coil in my chest. The floodlight overhead flickers like a dying heartbeat, casting the rooftop in erratic flashes of gold and shadow.

I know this is a stupid decision, I knew it the second I walked into the open with nothing but a gun and a promise I don’t know if I can keep.

But this isn’t a strategy, it’s pure desperation.

I should be flanking, planning, waiting like Matteo ordered me to.

Reading the terrain like I’ve done a hundred times on missions before.

But all I see is her, bleeding and crying, calling for me and knowing I let her down.

Each second feels like skin peeling back from bone. So I keep going, even though every instinct I’ve trained is screaming at me to say that this is exactly what she wants, to get the beast riled up and have him come charging.

And I am. Charging, foaming at the mouth and walking straight into the flames without a fucking care. Because if there’s even a chance she’s here, then I’ll take the bullet, I’ll take every bullet.

I reach the top, gun drawn, and my heart pounding like a drum in my ribs. The wind slices past me, sharp and cold, dragging the scent of rust and mildew past my face.

Then I hear it again. Lila’s voice, a scream so raw and terrified tearing through the silence.

I don’t think, I just move, sprinting toward the sound, rounding the ventilation shaft and tearing past a rusted pipe cluster.

The rooftop is a maze of debris, old pallets, stripped wires, forgotten machinery.

I scan the area until I see it, there at the far end of the rooftop is the silhouette bound to the chair.

The floodlight is glaring overhead like a spotlight on a corpse and my pulse spikes.

“Lila!” I shout, closing the distance in three strides, boots skidding on gravel as I just pray that she looks up to see me there, to know that I’ve come for her.

My hand reaches out and grabs the edge of the chair, yanking it hard and the whole illusion comes crashing down.

It’s a mannequin. A fucking hollow plastic torso in tattered clothes with rope cinched around its wrists, duct tape slack over where a mouth should be.

Next to it, tossed on the ground, is a speaker.

It’s still playing her scream on a loop and suddenly my stomach lurches.

My knees nearly give as the scream repeats again, distorted now, more echo than agony but the damage is done.

It rips through me like nails, like a punch to the gut that doesn’t stop landing.

I take a step back and it feels like the whole roof tilts beneath me. That’s where the scream came from, that’s what I followed. It was a lure, a trap. And I knew it. Every fiber in my body screamed it the second I pulled into the lot.

But that didn’t stop me, because I wanted to believe. Needed to believe that she was close. That maybe, just maybe, I could still stop this. The scream cuts off mid-note. No fade, no echo. Just pure silence. Like someone hit pause.

My jaw clenches so tight my teeth grind. The rage claws its way up my spine, hot and blinding. Even knowing it was bait doesn’t dull the fucking sting, because now I’m standing on a rooftop with nothing but shadows and all I can see is her face as it was on that goddamn feed.

Still and bleeding on the floor. I’m too late. Again . And then I hear a voice behind me that turns my blood to ice.

“I always did love your reaction time,” Annalise says, smooth and precise.

I spin around to see her leaning against the access door frame casually like she’s waiting for a drink order.

Her blonde hair is swept back into a tight braid and her sharp cheekbones catch the light, that same old smirk curling her mouth.

The one that makes you feel like you’re about to be devoured whole.

“You should’ve known better,” she says, stepping forward.

“But I’ll admit, seeing you storm in here all guns-blazing? It’s nostalgic. Sexy.”

My grip tightens. “Where is she, Annalise?”

“Oh, Nikolai,” she sighs. “Always so keen on being a savior.” Her boots echo softly as she moves closer, eyes never leaving mine. “Funny thing is we both know you’re just so much better at being the monster.”

My jaw locks. “You don’t know who I am.” She continues to step forward, her movements slow and deliberate, hips swaying as if she’s still got her claws in me and knows exactly where to dig.

She laughs, low and breathy. “Don’t I?” She steps in, toe to toe now.

“I know exactly who you are. Or did you forget that I’m the one who made you.

I saw your potential when we first pulled you out of that supply tunnel in Krovik.

You were half-dead and bleeding out, too angry to die.

Don’t you remember how I saved you? How I showed you how to reach your full potential? ”

“You think I forgot?” I growl, voice low. “The cuffs, the blacked-out room, your people taking turns carving lessons into my skin while you watched from behind the glass like I was a fucking project.”

“Aw, you do remember,” she whispers. “I remember your eyes. How long it took before you spoke, before you broke.” She leans in, voice curling against my ear.

“And then how beautifully you grew into who you were always meant to be.” I say nothing.

The cold wind bites across my skin, but it’s her voice that chills me.

“Like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Just beautiful to witness. You were a gift then,” she says.

“Fierce, brilliant, untouched by guilt. Matteo never understood what he had, but I did.” She runs a finger down my chest like she’s dusting off a relic.

“You could’ve ruled beside me, Nikolai. You almost did. ”

“Oh, was that the plan until you decided to use me to draw Matteo out and left me to die?” I snap through clenched teeth.

Her smile is almost wistful. “We all have a role to play,” she says, with a shrug like she’s discussing the weather.

“To be honest, I had hoped you would survive, but after witnessing the damage, I didn’t think it was possible.

” She pauses, eyes glinting. “But when I heard you did?” Her voice lowers, almost reverent.

“I knew I’d see you again, my love. But I had to time it just right.

Back then you were still too young. Too angry and too wild to control.

But my, oh, my, you’ve certainly grown into an incredible asset, haven’t you. ”

She looks at me like I’m something she lost once and always expected to find again. But all I can think about is the last time I saw her face through smoke, pain, and blood as the roof caved in and everything went dark. I thought she died that day. I grieved for her. And God help me, I loved her.

Even when Matteo dragged me out half-dead, even when I couldn’t walk straight or breathe without choking on ash, some part of me still thought maybe she had meant it. That maybe the way she looked at me hadn’t been part of the game.

Then I learned the truth. I was always just a tool. She fed me false intel, used my face to draw Matteo out, and then left me behind like a stray dog.

And when Matteo found me, what was left of me, I wasn’t just broken.

I was hollow. And the worst part? It wasn’t the scars, the emotional damage or months of physical recovery that gutted me.

It was the fact that she had planned it and I never suspected a thing.

Every word, every touch, every fucking kiss.

She played me, watched me fall, and then simply walked away.

So now, as she stands here in the flesh smiling like this is some twisted reunion, I can barely hear her over the sound of my pulse crashing like waves in my ears.

She leans in closer, her face so close to mine I can smell the familiar scent of vanilla and wildflowers clinging to her skin. “I missed you, you know,” she says. “Missed us .”

Her gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate.

Like she’s unwrapping the past between us piece by piece.

“The way you moved...” she murmurs. “The way you looked at me when I gave orders. That flicker in your eyes when you thought I was watching. How your hands would tremble, just a little, right before you touched me.”

There were nights I couldn’t sleep without hearing her voice in my head, sharp as glass and low as sin. Nights where I could feel the echo of her breath against my skin, the taste of blood and command in her kiss.

She didn’t just touch me, she rewired me.

Broke me open and stitched her name into the open wounds.

And the worst part? For a while, I craved it.

Back then, there were no lines. No right, no wrong.

Just the missions and the raw pull of the fight.

The heat between us felt more like a fuse than a flame.

I let her lead because I wanted to follow her, until I realized I was never meant to make it out.

A smirk curls the corner of her mouth. “I doubt your little cabin girl ever got to see that side of you. She doesn’t belong in your world, Nikolai.

She’s soft, sweet, and, oh, so breakable.

” Her tone drips with mock concern. “Too delicate for a man like you. What does she know about blood and war? About what it means to really please someone like you? That little girl of yours,” she murmurs, voice curling around the words like smoke, “she doesn’t see you, Nikolai.

Not really, not like I do. She thinks you’re some wounded animal she can tame with soft hands and tender glances. ”