HEART OF MY MONSTER

11

I lift my head and stare at the cloudy sky. It’s gray, grim, and absolutely depressing, but it doesn’t compare to the dark abyss that’s currently replaced my heart.

The world has always been monotone to me—either black or gray. The only person who introduced me to a f*****g rainbow of colors has now turned black.

She’s now being ripped out of my heart and leaving a bottomless pit in her wake.

Everything has turned to ashes. All I can do is glare at the sky, feel moisture filling my eyes, and let out a raw scream.

I was ready to believe that Sasha wasn’t dead.

Anyone could’ve put that bracelet and ring on the corpse to make me think it was my Sasha.

But then, the DNA test came out as a match, and now, I’m on edge, only a few moments away from pushing myself over.

But I can’t join her yet.

It’s been a week since I saw her skeleton. They had to search for her legs since they were scattered apart.

A week in which I haven’t seen a wink of sleep, I’ve stumbled in and out of a drunken haze, and I’ve nearly started killing anyone I’ve seen walking down the street.

If the only light in my life was taken away, how dare they keep theirs?

If my world is flipped upside down, why the f**k is everyone else living as if nothing happened?

A week of Karina crying nonstop and trying to console me, only for me to shut the door in her face. Konstantin tried, too, but he was also given the cold shoulder.

Not even Anna has been allowed to touch me.

Apparently, Viktor told the family about Sasha’s identity so they know she’s a woman and my wife.

Was. f**k. I still can’t believe she became a was.

Still, I didn’t accept anyone’s condolences. I don’t need f*****g emotions. I murdered them a long time ago, and they’re not coming back.

All this dizziness, disorientation, and pure f*****g mania is a translation of my need for revenge.

We lost communication with Maksim after that text. Viktor sent men to look for him to no avail.

And with that, we lost our only lead to the Ivanovs.

As in, the founders of the Belsky Organization. I didn’t make the connection at first, but after Sasha left for the cottage, Viktor revealed that, according to the KGB intelligence, the family behind the Belsky Organization is called Ivanov.

They’re some form of aristocrats who, apparently, have always had deals with the governments in Russia and went as far as putting them in power. Until the current ruler of the Kremlin, who’s been out to annihilate them ever since he got into office.

I doubted Sasha knew any of that. Her sole purpose seemed to be revenge for her family’s murder.

However, no matter which angle I look at the tale from, there are still too many plot holes. One, I haven’t dealt with any Ivanovs in my lifetime. The only incident involving them that comes to mind is when Konstantin was kidn*pped and tortured by someone who I presume was one of them.

Their whole existence is still blurry.

Everything is.

Even Yuri disappeared off the face of the f*****g earth. Which makes me paranoid as f**k.

Losing not only Sasha but also Maksim and Yuri is like walking around with gaping wounds.

It’s been three days since I buried her in the family cemetery and ordered a tombstone with Aleksandra Morozova engraved on it.

It’s been two days since we started searching for leads for whoever could’ve ordered that hit on her.

It’s been one day since we located the most probable suspects—the Albanians.

I pull out my gun and stare at an old building on the outskirts of an ancient industrialized area in Boston.

The sun sets in the distance, casting an orange hue that will turn into red with the blood of those fuckers.

“We’re ready,” Viktor says from beside me.

Dark circles surround his eyes from how much I’ve overworked him this week. He’s barely slept, and when he has, I’ve called him to my office to dig into any information I’ve gathered.

He doesn’t complain, but he does b***h about how I need some rest and that I might drop dead.

Might as well.

I haven’t been in my room since I saw that body. Every corner is full of her presence, natural scent, and soft smiles.

It’s full of her care, her countless attempts to put me to sleep. It’s full of her tangible concern about my well-being and safety.

Every inch of me revolts at the idea of being there when she isn’t.

The thought of closing my eyes without her around terrifies the f**k out of me.

“We’re taking a left, yeah?” Damien’s eyes shine in the dark like a madman's. He’s been my companion in my mission to wipe out everyone I suspect.

This time, we expanded our options to Boston because the leader of the Albanians here, Roel, is the cousin of the motherfucker we killed a few months ago in New York.

As the new Pakhan of the New York Bratva, the most reckless thing to do is starting wars or stepping on other factions’ toes. There was an inauguration ceremony two days ago that the whole organized crime world attended, but I barely showed my face.

I don’t give a f**k about the position. I’m only using the power it gave me to figure out who’s behind that bombing, and I need to know exactly why it happened.

“Do whatever the f**k you want. Just don’t get in my way.” I don’t wait for Damien’s reply as I walk toward the building.

Viktor advised me to cover my tracks, but f**k that. I want them to see me coming and scramble like rats. My guard curses low from behind me, then runs to cover me as the men inside filter out like ants.

All I see are people who need to be dead. Every last f*****g one of them. I won’t stop until they’re all buried six feet under like she is.