Page 91 of Crown of Hate

She flashes me a reassuring smile. “I know you’re freaking out, but I’m here for you. If you’re pregnant, Mikhail will be over the moon., trust me. He’ll love the baby.”

I hope she’s right, but I can’t shake the doubts. I don’t voice them, though. Instead, I just nod, and we head inside.

After what feels like a lifetime of tests, we’re finally sitting in the doctor’s office, waiting for her to read the result. My heart is threatening to break out of my ribcage while I steal glances at Dr. Jenkins, hoping that she’ll hurry up. Doesn’t she know how much the suspense is killing me? My mind is racing with what-ifs, and my fingers are drumming anxiously against my thighs. I clasp my hands together to keep them still.

I glance at the doctor again, searching her face for any hint of the news. Then she actually does look up, smiling. Her smile is warm and professional, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s about to turn my world upside down.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Zhirkov,” she says, passing me the paper with the test result. “You’re five weeks pregnant.”

My vision blurs, and it feels like the room is spinning. Five weeks. My hand moves instinctively to my stomach, as if I can already feel the life growing inside me.

I’m pregnant.

With Mikhail’s baby.

Our baby…

Joy, terror, and a thousand other emotions war within me, but one thought blazes through all the others: How the hell am I going to tell Mikhail?

28

MIKHAIL

“What the hell do you mean you lost them?” I bark, pacing my study. My trigger finger itches. It’s taking every ounce of self-control not to shoot these two incompetent assholes in their fucking heads right now.

Igor and Dimitri stand before me, heads bowed like scolded schoolboys. Neither of them has the balls to give me a straight answer. But their silence speaks volumes, and it’s pissing me off even more.

Sure, my sister is a speed demon, but how in the name of all that’s holy did she manage to win a race against two men who’ve spent most of their miserable lives driving recklessly?

And Alya—my wife, my everything—why is she so dead set against having bodyguards? She’s complained about them before, but it makes no sense for her to be so strongly against it. Why would she and Kira go out of their way to avoid them? Unless…

A cold dread settles in my gut. They’re hiding something. They’re going somewhere Alya doesn’t want me to know about.

I whip out my phone and try to call Alya. One ring. Two. Three. Nothing. Same story with Kira. Radio silence from both of them, and my stomach’s tying itself in knots.

“We’ll find them, Chief,” Igor says.

I freeze mid-pace, fixing him with a glare that could melt steel. “Last time you spouted that bullshit, Akim had my wife in his car and threatened her. Remind me why I haven’t already chopped both your heads off.”

They don’t say anything, and I know they’ve been waiting for that other foot to drop since that incident. But I guess I’ve been a little fucking busy. Too busy to be as ruthless as I should be, as I once was.

Alya has changed me. And it might be the death of her.

“It won’t happen again, Chief,” Dimitri assures. “We’ll find her.”

I snarl. “If anything happens to her, you’re both dead men walking. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, Chief,” they answer in unison.

“I won’t fucking forget it this time.”

Goddamnit.

I wave them off like the useless flies they are. Once they’re gone, I collapse back into my chair, rubbing my temples. Think, Mikhail, think. Kira wouldn’t take Alya somewhere dangerous; that much I know. But my sister can be reckless sometimes. And we’re supposed to leave for Russia tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.

If anything happens to Alya, my plans will be ruined.

I will be ruined.

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