Page 66 of Monsters Carve Thrones
My knees finally gave out. Laura caught me as I sank to the floor. She knelt beside me, pulling my head into her shoulder. My arms wrapped around her like I couldn’t stop myself. Like I just needed someone, anyone, to hold the pieces together for a few more minutes. I cried then, the hardest since they took her. And she didn’t say a goddamn word.
She just held me while my soul bled out.
Steam billowed around me as I shut off the water. I stood there for a moment, palms pressed against the cool tile, letting the silence wrap around me. Silence almost sounded...weird now. I had gotten used to screaming.
My skin was raw from scrubbing. The blood was gone, but I still felt it. Still smelled it. My chest ached, and my ribs were tight with pressure that refused to ease. I grabbed a towel and dried off, then slipped into a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a black tee shirt that clung slightly to my damp skin. My hands trembled a little as I raked my fingers through my wet hair, pushing it back. I caught my reflection again on the wayout–eyes red-rimmed, jaw clenched, dark circles blooming beneath my eyes like bruises.
Better than before. But only just.
I stepped into the hallway, bare feet quiet against the floor, and padded toward the living room. Laura was curled into the corner of the couch, a soft blanket over her lap. She looked up when I entered, offering me a gentle smile. Bless her, she was acting as if she wasn’t looking at a man who’d lost himself in someone else’s blood just hours ago.
I gave her a weak one in return. It was all I could manage. But it was honest. I crossed the room and sank into the opposite side of the couch, the cushions sighing beneath me. My muscles ached with exhaustion, but I welcomed the weight. It made me feel like I was still tethered to something.
The sun finally dipped below the skyline outside, the last streaks of orange fading into blue. A hollow quiet settled over the room. It was a quiet that begged my mind to wander too far. Nico entered from the kitchenette, a cardboard pizza box in hand. Kieran followed behind him, cracking his knuckles as he settled into the armchair.
“You good, man?” Nico asked, tossing me a sideways glance as he flipped open the box.
I nodded once. “Getting there.”
“You look like shit,” Kieran added, but there wasn’t any bite to it. Just worry, thinly veiled with sarcasm.
“Feel worse,” I muttered.
Nico pulled out a slice and handed it to me without a word. I took it, the smell of grease and garlic hitting me like a wave. My stomach growled on cue, surprising even me.
“Thanks,” I said.
We sat in silence for a minute. Laura pulled her knees up under her chin. I caught her watching me again, her expression unreadable. I didn’t deserve the kindness in her eyes. But Iwas grateful for it. Grateful for all of them. They were the only reason I hadn’t torn myself apart yet. I took a bite of the pizza and stared out the window.
Kieran leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “You really think he’d bring herhere?Warsaw’scrawlingwith old enemies. Hell of a risk.”
“He’s arrogant,” Laura replied, her arms crossed tightly. “He wants to keep her close. Somewhere isolated, but not so remote that he can’t control the flow of information. And he probably thinks no one would look this far east. And that maybe he fled west.”
“He’s wrong,” I said, my voice cold and flat as I glanced at the laptop screen on the coffee table. “I’ll tear every fucking city in this hemisphere apart if I have to.” A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the hum of the radiator. The windows were fogged from the cold.
Nico finally spoke. “We should visit Witek now. He’s the most connected after Stepan. Lives above a butcher shop in Praga. Real low profile. Not heavily guarded.”
“Then we go tomorrow,” I said, shutting the laptop with finality.
Laura gave me a long look that said she’d counted how many pills I’d crushed in the last seventy-two hours. “Do you really think that’s the best idea?”
I didn’t answer. Just lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and stood. The balcony was narrow, the rail slightly worn from decades of weight and wind. Warsaw stretched beneath me, a mess of concrete, old rooftops, and steel cranes cutting into the sky. The city lights were blurred behind low-hanging fog, and the cold was sharp as shit.
I stood there in silence, cigarette burning between my lips, the taste bitter on my tongue. Behind me, faint sounds drifted through the hotel room walls–Nico and Kieran laughingover who snored louder, Laura pouring herself a glass of cheap red wine. They were pretending to be normal.Tryingto hold it together.
But I couldn’t pretend. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t fucking breathe half the time. My fingers shook as I pulled out the oxy. I crushed another pill on the railing, dragged the powder into a neat line, and snorted it. My eyes watered, but the relief came fast, thick and warm, like syrup in my bloodstream. The panic dulled. My heart didn’t feel like it was trying to beat through my ribs anymore.
But she was out there, hurting and alone.
And I hadn’t fucking found her. I hated myself for it. My fists clenched around the railing again, so tight my fingers went numb. I finished my cigarette and flicked it into the street five stories below. Then I turned back into the room, the high already fogging the edges of my mind. Sleep would come now, thankfully.
***
The smell hit me before we even stepped inside–raw meat and rot, like death trying to wear perfume. Goddammit. The bell over the door gave a soft ding as I pushed it open, the cold air outside quickly replaced by the humid stench of the shop. It was dim inside, a flickering fluorescent overhead casting the pale tile floor in sickly light.
Witek stood behind the counter, carving into a slab of pork with a cleaver. The tattoo of a tiny dragon on the base of his bald head gave him away. He didn’t look up. “Closed,” he muttered in Polish.
“Not for us,” I said.
