Crown of Hate (Soulless Empire)

Chapter 19

19

ALYA

I didn’t hear Mikhail right. The thought pounds in my skull, refusing to take shape. Akim Petrov… My father? No. Fucking. Way. It’s got to be some sick joke. As if that monster could ever be related to me. The very idea makes bile rise in my throat.

But if it’s true, then… Mikhail… he knew. He’s known all this time and kept it from me, probably just waiting for the perfect moment to pull the trigger on Akim. On me.

Mikhail takes a step towards me, and I take two steps back. My vision fogs with hot tears. “You’re lying, aren’t you? Akim isn’t my father, is he? He can’t be…”

“Alya,” he whispers, reaching for my hand.

I jerk away. His touch—once a comfort—now just feels like a betrayal. “No! Tell me you’re fucking lying!”

But the look on his face tells me he’s deadly serious. The bastard…

I spin on my heels and bolt up the stairs. When I reach the bedroom, I slam the door shut and collapse on the bed.

Akim is Alya ’s biological father plays on a loop in my head.

I don’t want to believe it. I won’t believe it. Ivan Orlov was my father—the only father I’ve ever known or needed. He loved me, protected me. The man who raised me would never have used me or tried to pawn me off as a peace offering to his enemy. If he were still alive, he would never have allowed this whole twisted situation.

My chest heaves to a point where each breath is labored. Too much has happened today. Too much to process. It’s too fucking much.

The door flies open and Mikhail barges in. I turn my head the other way. I refuse to look at the lying snake. My husband. The man who only married me to use me as a weapon against Akim.

“Alya.” His voice is cautious, probing. “Can we talk?”

“No. Get out.”

“I was wrong,” he admits. His feet are shuffling on the rug as he approaches the bed. “But I need you to understand, I didn’t keep this from you to hurt you. I didn’t plan to use it against you. Still, it’s fucked up, I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit!” I whirl on him, vision swimming with fury. “You were ready to use that information regardless of how it affected me. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t care about me then—I’m still human. You can’t just hurt people however you want just because they mean nothing to you.”

“You’re right, Alya. I’m a selfish asshole.”

Damn straight.

“You’ve hurt me too much, Mikhail. First, you killed my papa, and now this.” I grit my teeth, struggling for some control.

“I didn’t kill Ivan Orlov.” His shoulders slump, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “I would have if I’d gotten the chance, but someone else beat me to it.”

“Who?”

“I suspect Akim,” he says, and my world tilts on its axis. “Your father deserved to die for all the things he did. He was a monster, Alya. One who’d kidnap young girls and traffic them. Your papa used children to traffic his drugs. He tore those kids from their families, destroyed their lives, and left them to die.”

Each word is a hammer blow, shattering the image of my beloved papa that I’ve clung to so tightly. The man who raised me, protected me, loved me unconditionally— now painted as a monster himself. The conflicting emotions swirling inside threaten to engulf me entirely.

“You’re lying!” I scream, desperate to hold onto the last shreds of my reality. “My papa would never do that. He was a good man.”

“Why do you think I took over the Russian Bratva?” His eyes blaze with a barely contained rage that smolders my own. “Because I couldn’t stand by and watch more children’s lives get destroyed by him. That is exactly the kind of man he was.”

“How... how do you know all this?” I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper now.

Mikhail hesitates, his gaze flicking away for just a moment before locking onto mine again. But I catch it, that flicker of uncertainty, and my stomach twists. Is he hiding something else? “I have sources. People who suffered because of Ivan Orlov's heinous crimes. They wanted justice, and they knew I could deliver it and save the underworld from his tyranny.”

The walls seem to close in on me. My whole world is crumbling to dust, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.

The man I called Papa was taken from me in a violent and unfathomable way, and now his memory is tainted. Everything I thought I knew about him might be a lie.

Tears sting my eyes as I battle my emotions. Part of me wants to cling to the image of the father I had loved and lost, while another part knows it’s true.

After he died, I saw the articles about him, and the hatred in people’s eyes. But I chose to ignore it and live in my bubble of delusion.

I lied to myself.

Mikhail reaches out a hand tentatively as if unsure whether to comfort or keep his distance. “Alya, I know this is a lot to take in. But you deserve the truth. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“No, Mikhail. Don’t act like you know how I feel.” I pause, sucking in a sharp breath as panic starts clawing at my chest. “You don’t understand. You’ll never understand how I feel, even if you try.”

I’m furious with him for keeping so much from me, but I’m equally mad at myself for being so blind. Stupid. Willfully ignorant. I’ve been in the dark for so long that nothing makes sense anymore—especially not Akim being my father.

My nails dig into my palms as the memories of Akim’s threats to hurt my mama play on repeat in my head. That bastard knew. There’s no way he didn’t know I was his daughter, yet he treated me like something he scraped off his shoe. Worse. Like a puppet he could jerk around on strings of fear. And Mama? His dirty little secret. He screwed her, then had the nerve to dangle her life in front of me. My own flesh and blood, playing God with our lives.

But what cuts deeper is that Mama is a liar, just like the rest.

No matter how I turn it over in my mind, every single person in my life has betrayed me, even those I thought I could trust most. I want to shut everyone out, but there’s one person I need to hurt: Akim.

If Mikhail is right, if Akim killed my father, I’ll make him pay. It’ll be my punishment for the way he treated Mama and me.

“How are you going to take Akim down?” I ask, squaring my shoulders. “I want in. I need to be part of his downfall.”

Mikhail’s eyes widen in disbelief. “I’ll handle it myself. I can’t let you get involved, malyshka. It’s too dangerous.”

“Screw what you want,” I snap. “You don’t get to decide for me. This is about my papa.” I swipe my hand over my hair. “Monster or not, he was still better than my so-called biological father. Please, let me help.”

Mikhail sighs heavily, then reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch is still gentle despite everything. “If that is what you want, fine. I won’t stop you. But promise me you’ll step back when it becomes dangerous.”

I know I won’t be able to stop, no matter how dangerous it becomes, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I lie to him, smooth as silk—just like everyone lied to me. The betrayal cuts deep, but now I’m playing the same game. “I will, I promise.”

“Good.” He takes my hand and presses a soft kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry I lied to you, but your safety is all that matters to me now.”

“And your safety?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “Don’t you care about your own life?”

A mirthless smile plays on his lips as he peers into my eyes. “My life means nothing to me in the face of my goals. I’ll take back my place as Pakhan or die trying, malyshka. There is no in-between.”

My chest is so tight it feels like it might explode if I take one more breath. I hate how he speaks about his life as if it’s worthless. As if no one would care or miss him if he died.

Because I would. Goddammit, I would—even if he is a deceiving bastard.

I can’t imagine living in a world where there is no Mikhail. I haven’t told him that yet, but the mere thought of something happening to him rips my heart to shreds.

I want to tell him how I feel, to make him understand that he can no longer treat his life so carelessly. But the words stick in my throat, muddled by fear and anger. I’m a fucking coward.

His brows knit with concern as he scrutinizes my face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I collect my hands from his. I can’t bear his touch right now. It makes me want to lean in and kiss him fiercely. Too much has happened today, and I need him. I want him to pin me down and fuck the melancholy out of me, but I can’t. I still haven’t forgiven him for keeping Akim’s identity from me. The wound is still too raw. “I’m just?—”

His phone rings, cutting me off. He pulls it from his pocket, and I catch a glimpse of Ilya’s name on the screen.

“I’ll take this,” he says. Then he gets to his feet and walks out of the room, leaving me to my swirling, chaotic thoughts.

I fight the urge to follow him and eavesdrop on the call. I know the call is about the Russia Bratva, and I want to know every detail, just in case Mikhail leaves anything out in an attempt to protect me.

Lying on my back, I stare at the ceiling, allowing my thoughts to wander in whatever direction they want. But they keep circling back to my mama and Akim’s affair. Did my papa—Ivan—know I wasn’t his biological child?

He loved me so much that I never would have questioned our biological bond if not for tonight’s revelation. Asking my mother is the only way I’ll get the full truth, but she’s sick now, and I don’t want to jeopardize her treatment by confronting her about Akim.

I’ll wait until after her treatment to get the details.

I’m on the verge of drifting off to sleep when the door opens and Mikhail returns. His shoes clink on the marble floor as he approaches the bed. His cinnamon scent filters into my nostrils as he sits beside me.

I twist my neck to look at him. “Is something wrong?” I ask, taking in the unreadable expression on his face. I can’t tell if he’s angry or not.

“There’s a party on Friday night. A gala. One of Akim’s trusted allies will be there. Arsen Krugovoy. I’m bringing you with me.”

My face splits with a smile. It’s Wednesday, which means the party is only two days away. That means I’ll have a chance at my revenge sooner than expected. “Is there a dress code?”

He shrugs. “I’ll get you something decent.”

Mikhail’s idea of “decent” arrives the next morning, and it’s anything but.

The dress is a masterpiece of contradiction—expensive yet daring, classy with a dangerous edge. It’s the kind of red that doesn’t whisper, it screams. It’s strapless, with a neckline that showcases a generous amount of cleavage. Louisa’s gaze meets mine in the mirror as she helps me into it.

“What do you think?” I ask, twirling. The fabric swirls around me like a crimson tornado.

She scrutinizes the dress for what feels like the hundredth time. Then finally gives an approving nod. “The boss has an eye for beautiful things.”

From the way she’s smiling, I can tell she doesn’t just mean the dress. She’s talking about me. I blush. “I know.”

And damn, do I agree. Mikhail’s taste is impeccable. Along with the dress, he has picked out a silver purse and heels that complement it perfectly. They’re stunning and look absurdly expensive.

A traitorous thought sneaks in: How is he so good at picking out nice outfits for a woman?

The answer is obvious: Experience. Other women. A confusing blend of pride and jealousy wars inside me—pride at his exquisite taste, and jealousy at the thought of him dressing up other lovers.

“Tell him I love the dress,” I manage to tell Louisa, pushing those feelings aside. With two days until this high-stakes party, Mikhail has been a ghost. He’s holed up with Alexei and Semyon, plotting and planning, obsessing over our safety.

We’ve barely shared two words, let alone an actual meal. My time with Mikhail has been little more than fleeting moments, snatched between his endless work. And dammit, I miss him, but I don’t want to interrupt his work. Although, part of me wants to storm into his study, demand his attention, and remind him I exist beyond this mission. But I hold back. The stakes are too high for distractions.

Still, as I admire my reflection, a wicked little thought crosses my mind. After this party, after we’ve set our plans in motion… well, let’s just say Mikhail won’t be forgetting about me anytime soon. I’ll climb that man like a goddamn tree, sit on his face, and ride myself to heaven.

Then I’ll get my revenge.