Page 5 of Crown of Hate

His fingers brush mine as he reaches for it, and my body short-circuits. Electricity crackles up my arm, and suddenly I can’t breathe.

I yank my hand back, gasping for air.

What the fuck was that?

2

MIKHAIL

“Something wrong,malyshka?” I ask, flashing a wolfish grin. I caught how she tensed at my touch, shaking me off like I was hot metal.

No surprises there. Alya Varkov hates me—or at least she thinks she does. But It’s child’s play compared to the way I felt about her father. That asshole deserved a fate far worse than death. He should have suffered more. By my hand.

The familiar rage bubbles up inside me. I push it down, but barely. Years of work, of carefully laying plans, all to bring him down. And when I was so close—so goddamn close to putting a bullet through his skull and watching the light fade from his eyes—someone else robbed me of the satisfaction. The memory still burns, even now.

“I’m not your damnmalyshka,” Alya hisses, her tone as sharp as a viper’s bite—only this sweet little girl doesn’t look like she has fangs. “Don’t call me that!”

A chuckle rumbles in my throat. For someone so small and delicate, Alya is quite feisty—too smart-mouthed for her own good. I find myself oddly impressed. Most women swoon at myfeet as if I’m some demigod, and most men piss themselves in fear. But not Alya. No, she stands tall, chin raised, eyes blazing.

It’s a breath of fresh air to have someone who doesn’t tremble in my presence.

My mind races, a whirlwind of dark desires. I don’t hurt women—it’s one of my few ironclad rules—but I can’t get over the idea of how fun it would be to break her.

She’s a vision of beauty, no doubt. That small heart-shaped face. Those big hazel eyes, deep enough to drown a man. Long, wavy hair that cascades down to her waist, just waiting for my fingers to tangle in them. And Christ, those breasts—full, perfect, rising and falling with each breath she takes. It’s maddening.

There are many ways to break a person. But breaking a woman isn’t violent. It’s art. It’s poetry written in gasps and moans. Breaking Alya would be my magnum opus.

I can already see it. The perfect punishment, tailor-made for her.

I’ll make her crave me. I’ll haunt her dreams, her every waking moment. Until she’s begging for my touch, my kiss, my everything. Then I’ll pin her against the wall, whisper filthy words into her ear, and strip away that venomous innocence piece by tantalizing piece. My dick twitches at the thought.

But it’s not just lust—it’s triumph. Vengeance.

A savage grin spreads across my face as I imagine her father’s ghost watching helplessly.

Take that, you dead bastard. I’ll paint your daughter’s juices all over your grave.

“You’re beautiful when you sneer like that,” I goad, drinking in her fury.

Her brows knit, then she huffs out an exasperated sigh. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I’ve heard that a lot,” I agree with a nod. She stares at me, clearly taken aback by my unruffled response as I casually tear the seal off the envelope.

“I hope someone kills you,” she says, seething. “I hope they rip you apart, limb from fucking limb.”

With my fingers half-lingering on the paper inside the envelope, I lift my head to look at her, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Such vile words from such a pretty mouth.”

She’s young and naïve. If she weren’t, she’d know the lethal stupidity of uttering such threats to a man like me. “I’ve killed men for far less than that.”

“Like you killed my father?” she laughs sardonically. “Don’t let me being a woman stop you.”

“Your father was scum,” I state coolly. “While you were lounging in your pretty castle, enjoying all spoils of his corruption, Daddy dearest was trafficking girls your age.”

“That’s a lie,” she chokes out, eyes glistening with tears. “My father would never do something like that.”

I don’t bother to correct her. People only see what they want to see. For a princess who was raised in a fortress of delusion, she’d only see her father as a hero, even when he was worse than the devil.

I pull out the letter, my eyes immediately drawn to the signature at the bottom. It’s someone I know all too well. One I dream of every night.

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