Page 83 of Crown of Hate

Air stalls in my lungs and it’s suddenly too painful to swallow. “Is that all you can say?”

“I don’t know what else is there to say,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

A mirthless smile spreads across my face. I wasn’t expecting him to say it back that easily, but this… this is too cruel. “I want to leave. Tell Semyon to drive me home.”

Somehow, some small foolish part of me hopes he’ll grab my wrist and stop me from leaving. But he doesn’t even look at me as I return to the front bar to pick up my purse.

And just like that, it becomes crystal clear: he’ll never love me.

26

MIKHAIL

“Your mind’s a million miles away.”

I snap my head to Alexei. He’s watching me with that familiar, probing look—trying to read me like a damn book again. Fucking hell. “I’m listening.”

“Bullshit,” Ilya chimes in from across me, his gaze just as penetrating. “Spill it. What’s eating you?”

I straighten up and steeple my fingers in front of me. “Fascinating, this sudden interest in my personal life. Shouldn’t you channel that energy into something more useful?”

Ilya chuckles. “Oh, I would, but it’s hard to focus when the reason I’m neck-deep in this shitstorm of a war can’t even pay attention.”

I roll my eyes and reach for the glass of tequila in front of me.

With a wave of his hand, Ilya dismisses the room. Only Alexei dares to stay behind, the ballsy bastard.

“Fionn was here.” I shoot Alexei a glance. “Looks like you owe him a debt. He’ll be coming to collect it soon.”

“That son of a bitch,” Alexei growls. Still, his expression remains calm and collected despite the rage simmering in hiseyes. “About damn time. I’ve been itching to settle that debt for years.”

I shake my head. “If Fionn is here, it means the Irish mob is back in Chicago.”

“Fuck,” Ilya mutters, voicing what we’re all thinking. “We can’t afford a war with the Bratva in Russia and the Irish here at the same time. We need to deal with Akim and Boris, fast.”

I take a sip of my drink. “I’m going back to Russia in two weeks. Might be a one-way trip.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Alexei and Ilya aren’t exactly known for wearing their hearts on their sleeves, but I can practically taste their panic.

“Planning to die on us, you bastard?” Ilya asks. “Your sister will have my balls if anything happens to you.”

I pretend to cringe. “When did you become such a sentimental sap?”

“Since you became my brother-in-law,” he shoots back.

“Our friendship before that didn’t matter?” I tease back.

“Not after what happened in Russia.”

“What youthoughthappened in Russia. But we cleared that up didn’t we?”

“Mikhail—"

“Why Russia?” Alexei asks, trying to bring us back on course. It works, and I’m thankful for the excuse.

“Come on, aren’t you two the brightest lads in Chicago?” My lips curl into a razor-sharp smile. “I’m going to reclaim what’s mine. You don’t expect me to rule the Bratva in Russia from Chicago, do you?”

“Shit,” Ilya mutters, downing his drink in one gulp and immediately pouring another. “How the hell am I supposed to keep things running here without you?”

---