Page 58 of Crown of Hate

The car door swings open from inside before I can touch it. Akim sits on the far side of the backseat, looking infuriatingly calm and collected. He’s leaning back against the leather, legs crossed, face partially obscured by dark sunglasses.

“Leave us,” he orders.

His voice makes my scalp prickle.

The driver and bodyguard in the front seat exit without a word. The driver cocks his brow at me, a signal for me to get in.

I reluctantly obey, fidgeting as he closes the door, sealing me in alone with Akim.

The scent of his expensive sandalwood cologne assaults my senses, and I have to fight the urge to gag.

“Why did you ask me to come here?” It’s a struggle to hide the tremor in my voice. My eyes sting, but I try not to cry.

His lips twitch in what must be amusement. He takes off his sunglasses and peers at me now. “That’s not a nice way to speak to your father’s best friend, is it?”

A knot forms in my stomach at his tone. Christ, I can’t breathe, and if I stay here any longer. I might just actually throw up. “You tried to pawn me off to Mikhail like I was a piece of property.”

“Pawn you off? You wound me, child. The marriage I proposed was merely a peace offering.”

“I’m not a bargaining chip. You don’t get to use me for peace offerings.” Mikhail might never have forced me into marriage if Akim hadn’t planted the seed. Sure, I’m more than happy as Mikhail’s wife now, but still—Papa would have gone ballistic if he knew that Akim tried to pawn me off.

Akim chuckles darkly. “Such righteous indignation, coming from a woman who seems quite content playing house with the daddy’s killer.”

A tang of guilt splinters through me. It’s the one thing I’ve tried so desperately not to think about for some time now. I’ve come up with a thousand excuses, even tried to convince myself that Mikhail couldn’t possibly have had a hand in my papa’s death. But deep down, I know the truth. I can’t escape it. It’s glaring right back at me.

“What do you want?” I crook. I can’t even bring myself to look Akim in the eyes—the shame is too much

“Justice. I want him to pay for what he did, little one.” His voice is suddenly softer, almost gentle. “And I need your help to do it.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the perfect mole. Daddy’s little girl, now Mikail’s closest confidante. You’re the only one who can bring him down.” He pulls out a small device from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and holds it out to me.

I glare at the device, then my gaze skitters back to his face. “What is that?”

“Your chance at revenge. A listening device. Plant it wherever he meets with his men. I need to find out everything he’s planning.”

I run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the car, leaving my brain a muddled mess. I’m trapped between two hells—betray the man I love, or dishonor my father’s memory… “I can’t. Mikhail will kill me if he finds out.”

“I’ll be listening. I’ll save you first if anything goes wrong,” Akim says, his tone almost fatherly. “Just trust me.”

“Trust you?” I scoff, anger flaring up again. “Why should I after everything you did? Sorry, I can’t. Don’t even think about contacting me again.”

I shove the door open, but Akim grabs my wrist before I can leave the car. His grip on me is tight and painful. I writhe, but it only makes him hold me tighter. “Let me go!”

“I hear your mother’s health is improving,” he drawls.

The mention of my mother stops me cold. But then a wave of white-hot rage and bone-deep terror floods through every part of me. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

He smiles, but there’s nothing warm about it now. “Then you know what you have to do. Help me, or I can’t guarantee her safety.”

I don’t even realize I’m crying until I feel tears streaming down my face. “You’re a monster!”

“No, child. I’m just loyal. Justice for your father is all that matters to me now. If I have to threaten you or your mother to get it, then so be it.”

I gape at him, my mind struggling to process his twisted logic. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s lying. Everything he’s ever told me is a lie. “This isn’t about my father. You’re just using his name as an excuse for your own sick games.”

He reaches out, and I flinch as he wipes away my tears. His touch makes my skin crawl. “I don’t owe you an explanation. Now take this!”

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