THE DEVIL'S CROWN PART 1 (All the Pretty Things Spinoff #1)

One-2

Once upon a time, I thought that maybe I could do this thing, this living a “normal” life. The devil lay dormant for a while, humoring me because he knew we were cut from the same cloth, and sooner or later, I would need to feed the darkness inside me. Mayhem, power, and control are what course through my veins and what made me a victorious leader.

And now, I want my f*****g crown back.

“пожалуйста,” Viktor begs, eyes wide. “Let me go. You’ll never see me again.”

“Stop begging,” I spit in disgust. “It’s quite unbecoming.” It seems Viktor needs an incentive to loosen his tongue.

Pavel reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a remote control. Viktor’s eyes widen. It’s the type of remote you’d see in a movie to make the high power explosives go BOOM. Pavel is known for his love of explosives, so Viktor knows what this is.

“You have three seconds, three f*****g seconds to tell me what I want. Otherwise, you’ll be scraping what’s left of your loved ones off the walls.” This isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. “Tell me why this city is dealing with this lowlife. He is a nobody. How has he gained the trust of all?”

He was able to worm his way into my kingdom on the merit of my mother. But unless she’s f*****g half of Russia, there is a reason he has climbed the food chain and is sitting pretty on top of it. He is where I was, and I need to know how he got there. I didn’t become the most powerful, most feared man in Russia overnight. But Serg has, and there is a reason for it.

When Viktor remains mute, my last tether snaps. “Pavel,” I order with a flick of my chin.

Viktor shakes his head wildly. “Okay! Okay!” he shrieks, his eyes begging Pavel not to push the button. “If I tell you, promise me you’ll look after my family.”

“Which one?” I ask, unmoved.

He understands this for the simple transaction it is. He tells me what I want, and I kill him quickly in return. “He is…making a name off you.”

I blink once, stunned, but I keep my emotion hidden. “What?”

“He has gained the respect of all because he neutered the feared Aleksei Popov. You are nothing because of him. You may as well have died with your friends.”

And there it is, the truth, glaring me in the face.

Serg has piggybacked his way to the top using my name while I’m forced to hide in the shadows as nothing but a leper.

I’m not totally ruined, thanks to Pavel and his connections. It seems he has allies all over the world who trust his knowledge in stolen ammunition and high power explosives. I am now his lackey, as he is the one calling the shots. But a trusted man in this business is hard to find, so we need one another.

“долбоёб!” I curse, angered that this little prick is still breathing. “I am going to take great pleasure in seeing him bleed.”

Inhaling, I center myself.

“Where is he?” This is his final chance to speak. If he doesn’t, I will cut out his tongue and feed it to him.

Viktor hangs his head in defeat. “He’s hiding out in a small farming village with your mother. The coordinates are…”

As he rattles off the location, I raise my face toward the ceiling and take a moment to savor this. I haven’t felt a victory in so long. This is just one step closer to regaining my life.

Once Viktor has given Pavel the directions to find my beloved family, I meet his eyes and see nothing but fear reflected in them. I suddenly begin to grapple with my conscience. He has given me what I wanted, so really, there is no need to kill him.

“I gave you what you wanted,” Viktor pleads, in tune with my thoughts. “Let me go. Please don’t kill me.”

But letting him go shows weakness. He won’t appreciate my leniency. It will just confirm what everyone thinks of me. Aleksei Popov lost his nerve all because he fell in love. And I did. I fell deeply and irrevocably in love, and it’s because of this that I c**k my gun and pull the trigger without remorse.

Blood and brain matter coat my face and white shirt, but I stand tall, calmly examining the mess I’ve made. A trickle of blood oozes from Viktor’s mouth as his chin sags to his chest. There is no doubt he’s dead.

Pavel steps forward, but I grip his forearm. “This is my mess. I’ll take care of it.”

A lifetime ago, I had an army at my disposal who would have been more than happy to clean up after me. But it turns out, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty. So I suppose Viktor is right. On the night my friends died, I died too.

I was once feared, respected among this land for being ruthless and cruel. But they haven’t seen anything yet. Love hurts, and now, it’s my turn to hurt love.

Viktor is buried in a shallow grave with no marker left to commemorate his resting place.

I brought a change of clothes, knowing I couldn’t go to the orphanage covered in blood. Looking at my reflection in the visor mirror, I hardly recognize myself. My brown hair has grown longer. I can now tie it back if I want, and I quite like it this way. My stubble is heavy. The usual steel blue color of my eyes is now permanently bloodshot thanks to sleep evading me most nights.

Straightening my tie, I know that regardless of this fancy suit, Mother Superior will see through the smoke and mirrors. She always does.

Stepping from my SUV, I do a quick sweep of the orphanage grounds. This is my safe place in more ways than one. But I can never be too sure, which is why I’m carrying two guns beneath this jacket.

Locking my vehicle, I sprint toward the back door. I’m late thanks to Viktor. But the moment I step into the orphanage, I suppress those thoughts because it seems almost blasphemous to think about him in this place of worship.

“You’re late,” Sister Margaret whispers, ushering me inside quickly.

“I know, sorry,” I apologize, thankful she was able to sneak me in through the back door. “Has Mother Superior noticed?”

Sister Margaret looks down her nose at me. Of course, she has. Nothing slips past her. “Come.”

We scurry down the hallway toward the dining hall where tonight’s celebrations are being held. Thankfully, the beautifully decorated room is packed full of guests, so no one notices me as I snare a glass of grape juice from a waiter’s tray and blend in with the crowd.

“This wouldn’t be possible without the efforts of many,” Mother Superior says from the temporary stage at the front of the room. She seems to scan the room until her attention lands on me. “Our angels don’t do it for recognition; they do it because they have a good heart.”

I throw back my drink, not wanting acknowledgment. If only she knew where I was an hour ago, she wouldn’t be so quick to sing my praises. I robbed four children of their father tonight, and I don’t feel a thing.

But I smile, nonetheless.

“Thank you for coming tonight. It means so much to us. Our children are a gift from God, so let us celebrate life and love.” Mother Superior’s speech is received well as the room applauds her loudly. But she’s not interested in praise. She’s here because these kids are her life.

Mother Superior is the glue that holds this orphanage together. Yes, I may be behind the money that has helped keep this place afloat over the years, but she has made the orphanage a home for the children and also for me.

God knows she should have thrown me out when I came to her, seeking refuge. But she didn’t. If it weren’t for her, I don’t think I’d be standing here today. She saved Willow and me. And for that, I will be indebted to her for the rest of my life.

“Nice of you to arrive,” she says softly, interrupting my thoughts.

“You know I don’t like these sorts of things,” I reply lightly. What I speak of is this fancy event the orphanage has thrown to attract new investors and hopefully potential people who want to adopt.

The orphanage is at full capacity, but Mother Superior would never turn a child away. I give her what I can. A job Pavel organized was able to help with the vital facelift this place needed, but my funds are running low.

In the past, money wasn’t an issue, but now, it is. I live in a shack in the mountains. I tell myself it’s because I want to live off the grid to evade my enemies, but honestly, it’s all I can afford. I was once surrounded by wealth and riches, but now, I barely have five thousand dollars to my name.

My suit, this Rolex, the Cuban cigars, everything I own, it’s all stolen from the men I’ve killed. To play the part of king, one must dress like royalty. I now understand the saying beggars can’t be choosers all too well.

“I know. But you are the reason the orphanage has undergone such changes. You’re the reason these children—”

But I hush her gently. “You are the reason, Mother Superior. I won’t hear of anything else.”

She purses her lips, knowing not to argue.

It pains me that she must throw such an event. I hate that it seems she’s almost groveling to the rich assholes to throw her a f*****g bone. I was once rich. I’m still an asshole, but at least I gave to this place without Mother Superior having to beg.

I know what it’s like to be hungry, to be unwanted and have nowhere to call home. If only I had a Mother Superior in my life when I was younger, things may have turned out differently for me. This place is special to me because I can relate to every single child in here.

Clenching my jaw, I realize this is merely temporary. Once I find my half-brother and murder his traitorous ass, the natural order will be restored. Until then, both Mother Superior and I are at the mercy of others.

“Ski! Ski!” screams a lively voice before my leg is ensnared by two small hands.

Peering down, I can’t stop my smile. It feels foreign because it’s genuine. “Why aren’t you in bed?” I playfully scold Irina in Russian.

She responds by poking out her tongue.

Irina has been here for five months. She was left at the orphanage gates with nothing but the rags that hung off her emaciated frame. She was riddled with lice and so malnourished that the doctors originally thought she was four. Upon further examination, they guessed she was somewhere closer to seven.

Her vocabulary is almost nonexistent, so Mother Superior knows almost nothing about Irina. These circumstances have made Irina one of the unfavorable children among potential adopters. She’s been returned countless times like some dog at a pound by the do-gooders who thought they could “fix” a troubled child. But they soon realized they weren’t cut out for the hard work.

Insufferable quitters.

Irina speaks to no one, bar me. I don’t know why, but the moment we met, she took a shining to me. I dare not tell Mother Superior my theory that I probably remind her of the company her family may have kept.

Regardless of the reason, I don’t care. Seeing her freckled face and blonde pigtails thaws whatever is left of my deadened heart. Just as I’m about to pry her from my leg and give her a hug, a spark of fire unexpectedly tackles me from behind.