Page 63 of Crown of Hate

Each word is a hammer blow, shattering the image of my beloved papa that I’ve clung to so tightly. The man who raised me, protected me, loved me unconditionally— now painted as a monster himself. The conflicting emotions swirling inside threaten to engulf me entirely.

“You’re lying!” I scream, desperate to hold onto the last shreds of my reality. “My papa would never do that. He was a good man.”

“Why do you think I took over the Russian Bratva?” His eyes blaze with a barely contained rage that smolders my own. “Because I couldn’t stand by and watch more children’s lives get destroyed by him. That is exactly the kind of man he was.”

“How... how do you know all this?” I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper now.

Mikhail hesitates, his gaze flicking away for just a moment before locking onto mine again. But I catch it, that flicker of uncertainty, and my stomach twists. Is he hiding something else? “I have sources. People who suffered because of Ivan Orlov's heinous crimes. They wanted justice, and they knew I could deliver it and save the underworld from his tyranny.”

The walls seem to close in on me. My whole world is crumbling to dust, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.

The man I called Papa was taken from me in a violent and unfathomable way, and now his memory is tainted. Everything I thought I knew about him might be a lie.

Tears sting my eyes as I battle my emotions. Part of me wants to cling to the image of the father I had loved and lost, while another part knows it’s true.

After he died, I saw the articles about him, and the hatred in people’s eyes. But I chose to ignore it and live in my bubble of delusion.

I lied to myself.

Mikhail reaches out a hand tentatively as if unsure whether to comfort or keep his distance. “Alya, I know this is a lot to take in. But you deserve the truth. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“No, Mikhail. Don’t act like you know how I feel.” I pause, sucking in a sharp breath as panic starts clawing at my chest. “You don’t understand. You’ll never understand how I feel, even if you try.”

I’m furious with him for keeping so much from me, but I’m equally mad at myself for being so blind. Stupid. Willfully ignorant. I’ve been in the dark for so long that nothing makes sense anymore—especially not Akim being my father.

My nails dig into my palms as the memories of Akim’s threats to hurt my mama play on repeat in my head. That bastard knew. There’s no way he didn’t know I was his daughter, yet he treated me like something he scraped off his shoe. Worse. Like a puppet he could jerk around on strings of fear. And Mama? His dirty little secret. He screwed her, then had the nerve to dangle her life in front of me. My own flesh and blood, playing God with our lives.

But what cuts deeper is that Mama is a liar, just like the rest.

No matter how I turn it over in my mind, every single person in my life has betrayed me, even those I thought I could trust most. I want to shut everyone out, but there’s one person I need to hurt: Akim.

If Mikhail is right, if Akim killed my father, I’ll make him pay. It’ll be my punishment for the way he treated Mama and me.

“How are you going to take Akim down?” I ask, squaring my shoulders. “I want in. I need to be part of his downfall.”

Mikhail’s eyes widen in disbelief. “I’ll handle it myself. I can’t let you get involved, malyshka. It’s too dangerous.”

“Screw what you want,” I snap. “You don’t get to decide for me. This is about my papa.” I swipe my hand over my hair. “Monster or not, he was still better than my so-called biological father. Please, let me help.”

Mikhail sighs heavily, then reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch is still gentle despite everything. “If that is what you want, fine. I won’t stop you. But promise me you’ll step back when it becomes dangerous.”

I know I won’t be able to stop, no matter how dangerous it becomes, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I lie to him, smooth as silk—just like everyone lied to me. The betrayal cuts deep, but now I’m playing the same game. “I will, I promise.”

“Good.” He takes my hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I lied to you, but your safety is all that matters to me now.”

“And your safety?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “Don’t you care about your own life?”

A mirthless smile plays on his lips as he peers into my eyes. “My life means nothing to me in the face of my goals. I’ll take back my place as Pakhan or die trying, malyshka. There is no in-between.”

My chest is so tight it feels like it might explode if I take one more breath. I hate how he speaks about his life as if it’s worthless. As if no one would care or miss him if he died.

Because I would. Goddammit, I would—even if he is a deceiving bastard.

I can’t imagine living in a world where there is no Mikhail. I haven’t told him that yet, but the mere thought of something happening to him rips my heart to shreds.

I want to tell him how I feel, to make him understand that he can no longer treat his life so carelessly. But the words stick in my throat, muddled by fear and anger. I’m a fucking coward.

His brows knit with concern as he scrutinizes my face. “Are you okay?”

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