Page 95 of Crown of Hate

A sharp knock at the door makes me jump.

“Chief, we have to leave now, or we’ll be late,” Alexei calls from outside.

I look from Mikhail to Mama, who manages to give me a reassuring nod. My nerves are screaming, but I know arguing is pointless. “Fine.”

Mikhail and Mama leave the room first.

I snatch my bag from the bed and pause at the doorway, taking one last look around. Who knows when—or if—I’ll ever see this room again. I have so many memories here, good and bad—laughter, tears, love… I silently pray I’ll get the chance to come back again someday, even if it’s just to visit.

A car is already waiting by the entrance when I make it downstairs. I climb into one of the tinted, matte black Mercedes with Mikhail. Igor and Dimitri follow in another car behind us.

Mama, Alexei, Semyon, and some other men are taking a different route to the airport.

For the first few minutes of the drive, Mikhail and I sit in tense silence. Then, he reaches for my hand and doesn’t let go. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I turn to look at him. “Are you?”

He nods. “I’m happy.”

If he’s actually happy, he’s doing a piss-poor job of showing it. Sadly, his words aren’t enough to convince me, but I don’t push it. If he wanted to talk, he would.

Mikhail opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get a word out, a car rams into ours from behind.

The force of the collision is so intense that I nearly faceplant into the dashboard. But Mikhail’s arm shoots out to shield me, his reflexes lightning-fast. He swerves hard to the right, then floors the accelerator.

“What the hell is happening?” I pant, panic clawing at my throat.

He spares me a quick glance from the road. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

His eyes flick to the rearview mirror. “We’re being followed.”

He’s too calm. Way too calm for someone being followed on a deserted road in the pitch-black night.

I crane my neck, searching desperately for a glimpse of Igor and Dimitri’s car. They’re not behind us. There’s no car behind us. “Where are they?”

“Something must have happened,” he answers. “Akim must have caught on.”

I reach for my purse and start to rummage it for my phone. “I’ll call Dimitri and see what’s up.”

“No.” He steers us onto a slightly better-lit road that at least has streetlamps.

The darkness and silence are eerie, and although there’s no other sign of human life, terror is creeping under my skin like ice water in my veins. “What do you mean no?”

“Call Alexei. Tell him what’s happening,” Mikhail barks. “Now!”

“Mama—” I trail off. Shit. How could I forget about Mama. If Akim’s men are here, they might have gotten to her first. I quickly dial Alexei’s number.

He answers on the first ring. “Mrs. Zhirkov. Is everything okay?”

“Alexei, we’re being followed,” I blurt out, voice trembling.

“Where are you?” Panic and urgency crackle through his voice.

“We’re…” I look around frantically for any kind of landmark. But there’s absolutely nothing. This place is deader than a graveyard. “I can’t…”

“She’ll share our location with you,” Mikhail yells. “Tell Semyon to take her mother to the safehouse and join us at the airport.”

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