Monstrous ends, p.1
Monstrous Ends, page 1
MONSTROUS ENDS
FORGOTTEN CITY: BOOK THREE
K.A. KNIGHT
Monstrous Ends (Forgotten City Book Three).
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Written by K.A. Knight
Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading.
Proofreading by Norma’s Nook Proofreading LLC.
Formatted by Mallory Kent.
Cover by TrifBookDesign.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
BONUS CHAPTER
About K.A. Knight
Also by K.A. Knight
Are you ready for the end?
PROLOGUE
LYRA
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” I mutter as I shove files and folders into my bag as quickly as I can, my head jerking up at every sound. I could be found any minute now. It may be the middle of the night, and I may have bribed a guard with a date to let me up here, claiming I just like exploring skyscrapers—stupid, I know—but soon enough, they will realise who I am and just what I’m doing here.
I shove as many files in my bag as I can before leaping from the chair and racing through the empty offices of Nano Industries. I stop, my eyes going to the elevator then back to the chairman’s locked office.
Don’t do it, Lyra.
I’ve never been able to pass up a story, however, and this one?
This one is going to be incredible. I can see the headlines now—Corrupt Scientific Lab Exposed for Its Wrongdoings. I’ll be back on top in no time, not to mention smearing it in Dad’s smug face.
Hiking my bag higher on my shoulder, I hurry to the door and drop to my knees, pulling out my trusty kit and picking the lock as swiftly as I can.
It’s a skill I learned when I was a kid. It was either that or stay locked in my room all the time.
Pushing open the door, I scurry across the luxurious carpet, ignoring the stunning views of Athesa beyond, and plop my ass into his leather chair, wiggling the mouse to bring his computer to life. The lock is easy to bypass if you know how, and I do.
Life made sure of it.
I learned as much as I could about . . . arts that might further my career—breaking and entering being one. Hey, I never said the job was all clean and squeaky, but it sure is fun. I stick the USB in and start copying emails and folders before one catches my eye. Hovering the mouse over it, I finally relent and click. There are video files inside, and I pick one at random. The screen opens, and my jaw drops at the contents.
I stare at the video in shock when I hear footsteps.
Quickly downloading it to a flash drive, I lock the computer and run from the office. The footsteps are closer now. Someone’s checking offices. “She has to be here. You idiot, we need to get her out before they realise she’s here.”
Oops. I veer from the elevator to the stairs, placing my hand on the door when a light hits me. “There she is. Get her!”
“Sorry, got to go!” I call as I push through the door and fling my chubby ass down the stairs. I might have hips, an ass, and a belly to show for my love of food, but damn, can I move. Everyone always thinks the curvy girl is bad at sports, and I love to shove it in their faces that I’m not.
I just hit the bottom floor when the guards’ radios crackle.
“She’s a fucking reporter! Stop her now, she accessed files!”
That’s my cue to get the fuck out of here.
I sprint through the reception area and break out into the night air. I don’t slow my steps, not even when I hit the pavement. I keep running, aiming for my bike, but when I skid around the corner, police are surrounding it and talking into their radios.
Fucking dirty cops.
Spinning around, I spot an alley and head for it, intending to lie low, but the bloody guards call after me, notifying the cops of my presence.
This is turning into a really fun night. Let’s hope I don’t end up getting arrested again. I have a feeling not even my father could save me this time.
“Hands up! You are under arrest for trespassing and theft!”
I turn with my hands in the air, grinning into the bright light of their torches as I start to back away. “Um, I’m kind of busy today. Can we do the whole handcuff thing tomorrow maybe? Not that I’m not into it, I like being tied up as much as the next girl, but tonight really isn’t a good night.”
“Stop moving!” the man barks.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find I’m almost to the alley and the darkness beyond.
“See you later, boys!” I grin as I take off running.
Fuck, I have nowhere to go. I can’t go back; they’ll be watching my apartment and my work, which leaves one option—the slums.
I really need to stop trusting random phone calls, though I suppose this one might have just cracked open the story of my life . . .
Two weeks earlier . . .
I bend my knees, my eyes locked on the edge about two meters away. My hands grip the tiny ledge I currently hang from. Blowing out a breath, I push with my knees at the same time I let go. I reach for the other edge, and my fingertips brush over it before I start to fall back.
I jerk to a stop not far down and grunt in disappointment as I lower myself to the ground, glaring up at the fucking tiny ledge. A hand claps my shoulder as I turn with a grumble. “You’ll get it, Ly, you always do. Hell, you can out climb every man in here.” Todd grins at me, his god-awful green shirt stating proudly The Colimv Zone. His harness leaves nothing to the imagination nor does the skintight pants he wears.
Unclipping my rope, I rub my hands together and glance back up at the wall of death. No one has managed to climb it yet, but I’ll be damned if I’m not the first. My friends call me an adrenaline junkie, and my therapist says I do all these crazy stunts and sports to prove I can so no one can question my size and worth.
I’ve never been a small girl. I have curves, and I love them, but when people look at me, they think I’m unfit when nothing could be further from the truth. I love the shock on their face when I prove them wrong, not to mention I actually enjoy climbing. “I know.” I grin just as my phone starts ringing loudly in my bag on the bench beyond the mats. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.”
“Yup, otherwise you’d be here climbing all night.” Todd laughs as he steps off to help someone else. He’s not wrong. The gym, climbing area, and pool are open all night long, and since I’ve always been a night owl, I spend most of my evenings off here, working out my frustration from work.
Wiping off my chalked hands, I unzip the bag and grab my phone as I take a swig of water. The number is unfamiliar, which isn’t a surprise. After all, you don’t get many tips or unidentified sources by using caller ID.
And that’s why I’m the best in the business.
“Hello, Lyra from the Gazette and News speaking,” I answer.
There’s heavy breathing for a moment, and I’m about to hang up, thinking it’s that repeat caller weirdo who jerks off. Men have made it their mission in life to sexually harass me since I started in this career, since reporters are usually stick thin and effortlessly beautiful. They either love me or hate me, with my big breasts, ass, and curves that won’t stay contained even in SPANX. Added to my resting bitch face and no shits given attitude, it’s fair to say I have made just as many enemies as friends.
“I know something, something huge, something that will change everything,” the man finally murmurs.
I grin. “I’m listening.”
“You know Nano Industries?” the voice hisses.
“Who doesn’t?” I mutter, sipping my water. I’ve always suspected they were dirty. No company is squeaky clean, but I’ve never liked their CEO. He’s a sleaze, but I was always warned away from investigating. I might get away with a few not so legal endeavours, but they were always
Like my father.
“They have been doing illegal experiments, experiments to create a new species. Not only that, but they have also been going through the wall and nobody knows why, and now women are starting to disappear,” he says hurriedly.
I grab my notebook and take shorthand notes, ignoring the world around me. “Do you have proof?” I demand, my interest piqued. Excitement races through me. If this is true, then they will have to let me investigate, but first I’ll have to go rogue to get what I need and then take it to my bosses.
“You’re an investigative journalist, get it yourself. It’s all locked up in their tower, but they don’t want anyone knowing what they are doing there. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he snaps and then hangs up before I can ask more, the prick.
As tips go, it’s shady, but I’ve worked with less.
And my intuition is telling me the man was scared of being found out, which makes the tip truthful. If it is, then this could change everything. No, I need proof before I take this to anyone. Not only will it ruin people’s lives, but it could ruin my own. They could shut me down and hide me in a black site forever with the money and power they have.
I need to be sneaky about this.
Or maybe I don’t.
I could go in with the ruse of interviewing their CEO and then sneak a look . . .
That just might work.
Okay, it didn’t work. I was thrown out, but I did manage to grab a key card on my way. Not only that, but I also found my next way in. One of the guards was very appreciative of my body, and I plan to use that to my advantage.
After all, an investigator is only as good as her bag of tricks.
That night, I dress in heels and my tightest, shortest black dress. I even slick back my black hair and outline my blue eyes. I go the whole nine yards, which I only usually do when I hunt for dick.
Yeah, you heard that right.
After all, I don’t have time for attachments or complications, and as much as men say they want a woman who only wants sex, sometimes they are worse than females. I have a man for nearly every day of the week, but when they start to get attached, I have to hunt for fresh meat.
Tonight, I’m doing that, but not in the way I usually would.
I won’t fuck this guard, but I will make him think I will if it’ll get me what I want, which is inside that building.
Okay, so it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I actually had to pretend to date the idiot. After two weeks, I finally got fed up and gave him an ultimatum.
It worked, and I managed to get into the building, but two weeks later, I’m running through the slums, looking for a place to hide. The police won’t let up, searching shacks and huts to find me. Whatever I took, they really want back, and they are willing to kill anyone who gets in their way to do it.
This isn’t a game anymore, or even a story.
My life is at risk, and not even my name or my father could save me now.
I need to find a place to hide and go through what I stole so I can figure out how to use it to keep me alive, because the way they are firing into nothing tells me they plan to kill me and pry it from my cold, dead hands. No wonder the man on the phone was so scared. Whatever I’ve stumbled into, it’s much bigger than I could have ever dreamed of, and now I have to survive the night to be able to tell the story.
Luckily, I was always good at hiding, something that was important in my childhood.
Hours later, I’ve moved eight times, and I’m starting to realise they are going to tear this place apart looking for me. I begin panicking, unsure where else I can go, knowing they are cornering me near the dump. My eyes go to the wall near me.
Fuck, it’s a really bad idea.
Terrible, really.
I am willing to take my chance with the monsters, however, that may or may not exist over definitely dying tonight on these filthy streets. Yep, I’ll take that choice any day, and they won’t follow me there.
Ignoring my screaming instincts, I hurry into the dump, wrinkling my nose at the rotting, leftover food. Sadness claws at me when I see skinny, starving children and adults sorting through it for anything to eat.
I have no time to help them, though, not when I can hear the police’s footsteps. I weave through the huge, stinking piles of rot, slip under the chain-link fence that houses the dump, and break out right before the wall. I desperately scan the surface, searching for a way in.
I’m a good climber, but I’m not that good.
No, I need a hole, a tunnel, anything . . .
A door!
With no other option, I rush towards it, and when I twist the handle, it opens. I hesitate only for a moment before plunging through the wall and into the forgotten city of monsters.
ONE
SAMAEL
Sitting on my throne, made from the skulls of my enemies, I smirk as I watch my people. The drinks are flowing, their inhibitions are lowering, and the music from the band is loud and angry, just the way we like it. The darkness of this old prison feels like home. The cold, scarred concrete is littered with blood, weapons, and much more. Tables and chairs are scattered around, with women and men bent over them—some fucking, some fighting. I watch as one man throws a male from another, slitting his throat before taking his place behind him and slamming into his ass.
Everything goes here in my land.
There are only two rules.
One—I lead.
Two—we kill every human we find.
My role isn’t easy. I might have created the paradise for the lost, broken, and mad, but it doesn’t mean they follow me willingly. I fight every day for my position, the dead bodies of those who challenge me littered around the lands. Currently, I watch the snarling newbie heading towards me like I knew he would. He’s been eyeing me all night. He’s a big bastard, I’ll give him that, with jagged scars that show he’s fought well and survived.
I don’t know where he came from, but I don’t care.
All I care about is the disrespect he gives me when he spits at my feet. It’s a challenge. I place my half full chalice on the arm of my chair and push a female from my lap, her mouth leaving my cock. I don’t bother putting it away as I meet him head-on. Before he can speak or move, I smash my fist into his chest, rip out his heart, toss it away, and turn before his body even hits the floor.
The bloodshed makes my people roar in satisfaction. Grinning wider, I grab my drink, toss it back, and throw the chalice away as I sit and crook my finger at the woman, forcing her mouth back to my cock so she can serve her king.
They do so willingly, wanting the position. They think it earns them my favour, but it never does. I don’t give a fuck about any of them; they are all entertainment for me. The only reason I let them into my lands is because I cannot patrol and protect it alone, and plus, all that alone time . . .
Well, it isn’t good for my sanity, or whatever is left of it.
Grunting, I slam into her mouth and hold her there as she chokes, forcing her to drink my cum before I push her away. She scrambles back, wiping her mouth, and I settle down to enjoy the festivities.
Many more fights break out, and the bodies are hauled away. As the night progresses, my people become more inebriated, and I enjoy it.
