Page 11 of Sergei
“He’s more than that. He’s a monster.” I tried to fight back the tears as I asked her, “You really think I can survive going back?”
Mila’s jaw trembled, but she didn’t reach for me. She didn’t show even the slightest sign of compassion. She simply shook her head and said, “You have to go back. You know what they’ll do if you don’t. You know what they’ll do to me if they find you here.”
Her words hit harder than Alek’s fists ever could.
I felt like the ground had been ripped from under me. My own sister, my last hope, was telling me to return to the man who would eventually bury me. “Mila, please…”
“I’m sorry, Alina. I can’t. I just can’t.” She pointed to the door as she told me, “You have to leave before it’s too late.”
“But where would I go?”
My heart sank at the thought of going back out there alone with no one to turn to. Mila sensed my desperation, and her eyes darted away from mine, fixing on the floor as though the answer might be written there in the cracks of the old linoleum.
She didn’t speak at first, just stood there, arms wrapped tight around herself. Finally, after what felt like forever, she whispered, “I don’t know… What about Viktor? You two were always good friends. Maybe he could come up with some way to help you.”
Viktor.
His name cut through the fog with a tiny flicker of hope.
But that hope quickly faded when I remembered I hadn’t spoken to him in years. I had no idea where he was or how I would track him down. “I don’t even know where to find him.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Mila darted over to the cabinet and pulled a wad of cash from the drawer, then shoved it in my hand. A change of clothes followed, along with a box of cheap hair dye. I didn’t botherlooking at the color. It didn’t matter. I needed to do what I could to disguise myself, even if that meant going platinum blonde or a dark shade of red.
She looked at the pile like she was checking to see if she’d forgotten anything, then stepped back and said, “Now go before it’s too late.”
I swallowed hard, hoping it would push down the lump in my throat, but it stayed, bitter and unrelenting. I stuffed what she’d given me into my suitcase before starting toward the door. When I stepped into the hall, the cold hit me like tiny knives against my skin. I turned back to Mila for one last plea, but before I could speak, she started closing the door.
The second it clicked behind me, I started to tremble, not just from the cold, but from the fear coursing through my veins. When I reached the sidewalk, I didn’t call for a cab. I needed a moment to think, so I just started walking.
I walked block after block, and I tried to muster up the courage I had deep within me. I wasn’t a coward. I’d never been a coward. I told myself I was done playing victim, and I meant it. I would not go back to Alek. I wouldn’t do it. I would die first, so that left one option.
I had to find a place to hide, just until I could figure out my next move. Maybe Mila was right. Maybe Viktor was the answer. He was certainly the only one I could think of. With him in mind, I made my way to the local library and found an open computer.
As soon as the screen lit up, I typed in the name, Viktor Volkov.
Just seeing his name brought back a thousand memories.
I hadn’t seen him in years, but I could still remember his deep green eyes and his kind smile. It was hard to imagine that I hadn’t heard his voice since he graduated high school. There was a time when our families were tangled together like roots from an old tree. We’d basically grown up together, and since we werethe same age, we were thrown into each other’s orbit, whether we liked it or not.
There were times when I wasn’t sure how Viktor felt about having me around. He was quiet, standoffish, and often impossible to read. But once he decided you were worth the time and let you in, he gave everything without a single hesitation. He was kind in a way that felt rare. It certainly was for me.
He had an old soul and often viewed things differently than others, but I liked that about him. I liked that if he saw someone cross a line, he would call them on it and cut them down without second thought. And it didn’t matter who they were, and sometimes his blunt honesty could knock the air right out of you.
I liked that about him, too.
There was never malice in his actions. Only truth.
And when he was in a good mood, everyone knew it. He was funny in that dry humor, cutthroat way that slipped under your skin and stayed there. Just thinking about how he could make me laugh made the heaviness in my heart feel a little lighter.
Maybe, just maybe, he would open his door to me.
Someone coughing behind me brought me back into reality, and I turned my focus back to the computer screen. The search results were thin. He was mentioned in his father’s obituary, but not much more. My stomach twisted into a knot as I scrolled through one dead end after the next.
There were a few close matches, but after digging a little further, I realized it wasn’t him. It felt like I was chasing smoke, but I kept at it. And then, like a ray of light, I saw his name listed on a property in Little Rock, Arkansas. A few more strokes of the keys and a name popped up on the screen.
The Black Crown.
