Page 96 of Crown of Hate

“Yes, Chief,” Alexei responds crisply.

“Alexei, please take care of my mother.” I sniffle to fight back the tears stinging my eyes. “Promise me.”

“Semyon will keep her safe. I’m coming to find you both now.” Alexei hangs up.

I quickly send him the location and tuck the phone between my breasts, then reach over and snag Mikhail’s phone from his pocket.

He doesn’t look away from the road when he asks, “What are you doing?”

“Buying some time for Alexei. Just in case… he needs to find us.” I draw in a breath, but it’s not enough to calm my frayed nerves. “I’m scared, Mikhail.”

He finds my hand and squeezes it tightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” I cup my stomach protectively. “If something happens to them?—”

“Nothing will happen to them,” Mikhail cuts me off, his voice firm. “We’ll survive this. All three of us.”

I want to believe him. I know he’d move heaven and earth to keep us safe, but we’re alone on this godforsaken road and Mikhail is still just a man. I want to protect him too, even though I feel about as helpless as a kitten right now.

I twist around, peering back into the darkness. “I think we lost them. No one’s been following us since the collision.”

“We can’t let our guard down. Akim wouldn’t have his men chase us if he wasn’t dead set on killing us.”

Just then, a pair of headlights cut through the darkness behind us. My heart jumps into my throat. I squint, trying to make out the license plate. Relief floods me when I recognize it. “It’s Igor’s car.” But as the car gets closer, color drains from my face. Igor is slumped in the passenger seat, his body still. “He’s… he’s dead.” Then I see the driver and my heart stops. Dimitri is sitting there with a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

“Do you see Dimitri?” Mikhail asks, firing the car to go faster.

“He’s behind the wheel.” I should be relieved that he’s safe, but something is horribly wrong. Fuck. The cars roaring up behind him confirm my worst fears. “He’s working with Akim.”

Mikhail’s face contorts with shock. “What?”

Before I can answer, I’m slammed against the car door with bone-crushing force. Everything happens in a blur of chaos and pain. Glass shatters, metal screams, and we’re spinning, tumbling, falling.

One second, I’m upside down, and the next Mikhail is tearing free his seatbelt and lunging for me. He catches me and wraps himself around me like a human shield.

The sickening crunch of metal on pavement is the last thing I hear before blackness swallows me whole.

The acrid stench of gasoline drags me back to consciousness. My head is throbbing when I force my eyes open. Mikhail is sprawled next to me, motionless and bleeding.

“Mikhail,” I croak. “Wake up.”

I try to raise my hand to touch him, but I’m too weak. My body refuses to move. I can’t fucking move. Every inch of me is screaming in agony.

My desperation to rouse Mikhail intensifies when I hear footsteps crunching over broken glasses. Someone’s coming.

“Mikhail,” I plead again. Although the movement sends daggers of pain through me, I manage to raise my hand to his face and tap his cheeks. “Wake up, dammit.”

He doesn’t even twitch. Panic threatening to choke me, I put a finger under his nose. A weak puff of warm air brushes my skin, and I nearly sob with relief. He’s alive. He’s alive, at least. That’s enough for now.

The footsteps draw nearer. If it’s one of Akim’s men, he’ll kill Mikhail without hesitation. I need to distract him somehow.

My mind races, grasping at straws. There’s only one shot. By some miracle, my phone is still tucked between my breasts. I find Mikhail’s phone lying next to him. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I grab it and unbuckle my seatbelt. Every movement is pure agony as I drag myself out of the wreckage. My entire body feels like it’s been put through a meat grinder. My muscles scream in protest, and the darkness is whispering seductively, begging me to give in.

I can’t succumb to it, not when Mikhail’s life is at risk. I need to save him. I refuse to die until I know he’ll make it out of this hellhole alive.

But it’s not one of Akim’s men I find a few paces from the car. No. It’s the devil himself.

Akim stands there, puffing on a cigar with a disturbing look of amusement on his face.

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