The Devil's Crown-Part One: All The Pretty Things Trilogy Spin-Off

by Monica James

  Kissing her forehead, I make my way to the exit as I have my keys and wallet on me. As I turn the corner, I stop dead in my tracks as a head of flowing golden brown hair catches my eyes.

  Дорогая?

  However, when Renata turns around, my hope fades to disappointment.

  “Where are you going?” she asks when she sees my SUV keys in hand.

  Sister Yali leaves us to talk in private.

  Clearing my throat and forgetting my nostalgia, I reply, “To meet a friend. I won’t be long.”

  “Can I come with you?” She looks at me with those big blue eyes, and against my better judgment, I nod.

  She smiles, again reminding me so much of Willow. “Thanks. I want…” she looks around, ensuring we’re alone, before whispering, “to buy a birthday gift for Mother Superior. Sister Yali just told me about her surprise party.”

  I completely forgot about the party. There is no way I will be attending, but it might be nice for Renata to do something other than cook and clean. Since arriving here, she’s ensured to pull her weight and help any way she can.

  Mother Superior and the sisters don’t expect her to do any of this, but I’ve hardly seen her. She’s too busy in the kitchen or scrubbing the floors. I don’t know if she needs to stay busy to help take her mind off things. She did shoot a man.

  He deserved it, but I’m not sure that lessens the guilt.

  I unlock the back door with the master key I have. Mother Superior has given me all access codes and a master key to the doors. She didn’t explain why, but I know it’s because she wants to give me an all-access pass in case I need to flee in the dead of night.

  Once we’re in my SUV, I turn on the radio to fill the uncomfortable silence and drive toward the exit. I punch in the code on the panel and wait for the gates to open. Usually, the Sisters don’t bother locking this gate as the children can’t get back here.

  It’s used for deliveries only. But now, security is tight. It has to be.

  The laundromat is about a twenty-minute drive, which suddenly feels like two hours because I can’t get over how much Renata looks like Willow. Now that she is safe, her walls have come down, and I can see the vibrant, carefree young woman she is.

  She radiates, just how Willow once did.

  “What?” And when she speaks, her American accent tricks me into believing that she could be.

  But no one can be her.

  Renata rubs over her nose, thinking I’m staring at her because she has something on her face. But what I’m staring at can’t be rubbed away.

  “Nothing,” I reply, returning my attention back to the road. “How are you?”

  When she doesn’t answer, I wonder if she heard me. But when she giggles, I know that she has. “How do you think I am?”

  She’s right. Until those who took from her pay, she’s merely filling in time.

  “I’ll make arrangements for your safe passage back home,” I reveal, deciding to talk to Pavel about this today. If she delivers on her end of the agreement, then so will I.

  “You can do that?” Her surprise in my competence is offending, but I can’t blame her. Serg has tainted my name. But she will see what I’m capable of when I come face to face with my half-brother.

  “I can do that,” I confirm with a grin. “If you wanted to leave earlier, however, you could always tell me where they meet.”

  She scoffs. “I don’t think so. Just because we’re playing nice doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  It was worth a shot.

  She’s a smart girl. As long as I need her, she knows she’s safe. I’m sure she won’t tell me a thing until I have her passport in hand. Her freedom in exchange for my kin’s head. It’s a fair trade.

  “Mother Superior won’t want any gifts,” I say, deciding to change the subject.

  “I know, but she’s been so good to me. I want to get her something to show my gratitude.”

  It’s a nice gesture, but Mother Superior doesn’t work that way. I know this firsthand. But I humor Renata. “What are you thinking of getting her?”

  She purses her lips as if thinking. “I don’t know. A candle maybe?”

  I can’t stop my smirk because Mother Superior has enough candles in the chapel. But I won’t ruin Renata’s fun. “Sure. Whatever you think.”

  She senses my cynicism, and snaps, “Maybe a desk organizer then because God knows she needs it.” It’s out before she can retract it, and she knows it.

  Turning to look at her, I ask, “How do you know what her desk looks like?”

  Mother Superior’s door is almost always locked. So I want to know how she knows this.

  She tugs at her seat belt nervously. “I just do.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  She has seconds to reply before I pull over and force an answer from her, and she senses it.

  “I went to see her, to seek advice,” she reveals on a rushed breath.

  “Advice on what?” I ask between clenched teeth.

  She chooses to stay silent, which will not work in her favor.

  “Renata, so help me God—”

  “On my feelings for you!” she cries, glaring at me.

  I open but soon close my mouth because I was not expecting that response. Feelings? What feelings? And she spoke to Mother Superior? I’m suddenly mortified.

  “Happy?” she barks. Falling back in her seat, she folds her arms and turns her cheek to look out the window.

  No, I’m not happy. I’m confused.

  Thankfully, the laundromat comes into view, ending this very awkward conversation. Pavel is already here. I park my SUV, and Renata opens the door before I even have a chance to turn off the engine. The door to the laundromat opens, and Pavel looks at Renata and then at me. He is clearly unhappy she’s here.

  “Why is she here?” Pavel asks in Russian.

  Locking my vehicle, I don’t bother replying because I know Pavel won’t appreciate the sentiment. He will call me out for being a damn fool.

  Digging into my pocket for my wallet, I give Renata some money. “There is a bakery just around the corner. Can you ask for a Medovik? It’s a honey cake,” I explain. “And this should be enough for a birthday gift.”

  She snatches the money from my hand but then nods. “Keys?”

  I eye her suspiciously.

  “I’m sure you don’t want me joining you and your friend.” She narrows her eyes when looking at Pavel. “Once I’m done, I’ll wait for you in the SUV. I won’t wait on the sidewalk like some dog, awaiting their master.

  “Besides, it’s not like I can go anywhere without you seeing me.”

  She’s embarrassed by what she shared, and the only way she knows how to respond is to act out aggressively.

  She’s right. The SUV is parked in front of the laundromat. She wouldn’t even get the key in the ignition before Pavel shot her dead, so I place my keys into her open palm.

  “Thanks.” She marches off, refusing to acknowledge Pavel.

  This part of town is quiet with only a handful of shops run by families who don’t want any trouble. She can’t venture far, but Pavel doesn’t hide his disapproval. He walks back into the laundromat, a silent gesture that I’m to follow.

  I give Mariska, the manager, a wave, following Pavel out back into his small office. I close the door behind me. He sits at his desk, lips pinched. “You have learned nothing,” he says, shaking his head.

  Taking a seat in the torn leather chair, I turn my finger in the air, hinting if he has a point, then to make it.

  “Is it because she looks like Willow? Is that why you’re being so foolish?” So he sees the resemblance also.

  Good, at least I know I’m not losing my mind.

  “No, it’s because she has information I need,” I explain calmly, but Pavel doesn’t buy it. “She gives me an upper hand. I’ve been searching for that son of a bitch for so long. I’m done looking. I just want this done.”

  “Are you sure about that?”
Pavel asks.

  Before I can ask what he means, he reaches into his desk drawer and produces an iPad. He slides it across the desk so I can see what’s on the screen.

  Reaching forward, I see that it’s Renata’s Instagram page.

  Scrolling through the pictures, I see that her story checks out. The last picture she posted was taken in Moscow. It seems she was traveling with three girls, and they appear happy. Normal. No foul play that I can see.

  A blonde girl with a bright smile seems to be Renata’s best friend as they’re in a lot of photos together, laughing and having fun.

  Looking through the rest of her page, I see she worked in a bar back in Chicago. She had a white fluffy dog and a pissed off-looking cat. She is also one of those people who like to document every meal they’ve eaten.

  I have no idea why Pavel is showing me this nonsense.

  “Congratulations, you’ve learned how to use social media,” I quip.

  However, Pavel doesn’t see the funny side.

  Steepling his fingers in front of him, he asks, “How long did she say she was held captive?”

  “Three months.”

  Pavel nods, gesturing with his head toward the iPad. “You don’t find it strange that not one comment on her pictures asks where she is? If she’s been missing for three months, wouldn’t you think a parent, sibling, family member, friend, anyone would comment on her photos, asking where she was?”

  I quickly scroll through her comments on the photos and see that Pavel is right. If she were missing, surely someone would reach out to her, asking where she was.

  “She has an older sister. Scroll down to the bottom. They seem quite close. I can’t imagine she’d be so quiet that her baby sister is missing. Unless—”

  “Unless what?” I question, peering up from the iPad.

  “Unless she’s not missing at all.”

  “So what is she then?”

  Pavel shrugs, and he seems genuinely baffled. “I don’t know her, so I can’t tell you that.”

  This is bad. “Did you find out anything else about her?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing that’s of interest to you. She seems relatively boring. But Alek, something isn’t right with her. What would Aleksei Popov, when he was king of this fucking city, do?”

  Leaning back in my seat, I sigh. “I’ve been too lenient with her. It is because of her resemblance to Willow,” I confess. “But she knows Serg. Of that I’m sure.

  “I just don’t know how. She has no contact with the outside world. I don’t know what her motivations are.”

  “Well, it’s time you found out,” Pavel says sternly.

  She knows barely anything about me. If she were sent by Serg to spy on me, he’d have come for me by now. Patience isn’t a virtue of his.

  I try to think like him. How are they connected? What would I do if I were him?

  Her resemblance to Willow can’t be a coincidence. But I don’t understand what her connection to him can be. There are too many what-ifs.

  “When do you meet with Santo?” Pavel asks, changing conversational pace.

  “I’m just waiting on his call. I guess even if I was having second thoughts about doing this, I don’t have a choice now.” I may need all the manpower on my side now, depending on just who Renata is.

  Pavel nods. “I was just thinking that. Until you find out who she is, consider her an enemy, Aleksei. You remember what you used to do to your enemies?”

  “Yes, мой друг. I don’t need a reminder.” He thinks I’ve lost my nerve. But not in this circumstance. If Renata is a mole, then she will be dealt with accordingly.

  “Good. No matter our past, I hate to see you being made a fool of.”

  Leaning across his desk, I pass him the iPad. I’ve seen enough. “Not for much longer,” I affirm, standing. “Whether Renata or Santo leads me to Serg, I will find him and Zoya, and they will pay, pay painfully for what they’ve done.”

  Pavel nods his approval. “Good. You need to make an example of them both. And you need that example to be very public. It’s the only way you’ll reclaim your status.”

  He’s right.

  And if Renata is a spy sent by Serg, then I will need to make an example out of her too.

  “When that time comes, I hope you’ll do me the honor of standing by my side.”

  I don’t wait for an answer. That’s not how Pavel and I operate. We say what we need, and then we’re on our way.

  I bid him and Mariska farewell as I leave the shop.

  Renata is waiting in the SUV. When she sees me, she turns her cheek to look out the window. Every action I now scrutinize in ways I didn’t before, but I should have.

  I don’t hint that anything is amiss as I open the door. The box on her lap means she found the Medovik, and there is a gift bag by her feet. However, I don’t say anything. Starting the engine, I drive back to the orphanage, strategizing how I’m going to approach this.

  I have no idea what her objective is, but I intend to find out the moment we return. The question remains, what happens when I do? If she is working with that son of a bitch, she leaves me no choice.

  Gripping the steering wheel, I realize I don’t know if I can do it. The only message Serg will understand is her mutilated corpse, delivered on his doorstep in a box and wrapped with a red bow. I’ll ensure she tells me everything and only then will I show mercy by delivering death.

  My stomach turns in disgust, but Renata made her choice. And she chose the wrong side.

  When the orphanage comes into view, the significance of what I’m prepared to do in a place that is holy isn’t lost on me. I have disrespected the entire foundation of the orphanage. From consorting with Ella to now, having murderous thoughts, just reinforces the fact that I’m a bad man.

  I drive through the gates and park the SUV. This doesn’t have to happen. I can find another way. But when I think about what is at stake, I realize the answer is no, I can’t. I need this to happen now.

  Just as she opens the door, I gently grip her wrist. “Would you come to the basement with me? I want to talk to you about what’s going on with us.”

  She blinks once, licking her glossy lips as she turns over her shoulder to look at me. This is the first time I’ve acknowledged an “us.” But it’s just not the way she thinks.

  I can sense her suspicions and almost hope she’ll say no. But I know she won’t.

  “Fine.” She shrugs from my grip, exiting the vehicle with the box and gift bag in her hands.

  We stand feet apart, not saying a word as we commence our walk toward the basement. It feels like a death march, and I suppose in some ways it is. When we get to the basement door, I unlock it and gesture for Renata to proceed first.

  She doesn’t see the significance in my action because when she’s halfway down the staircase, I close and lock the door behind me. There is no way for her to escape.

  Once we’re down the stairs, she places the goods onto the table and turns to look at me, arms folded across her chest. “So what do you want to talk about?”

  There is no way to sugarcoat this, and I will not take any pleasure in torturing her. So, I stand at the bottom of the staircase, prohibiting an exit.

  “I want to know why you’re here,” I calmly start, watching her closely. I’ve come to learn Renata is an excellent liar, so I need to watch for any signs of deceit.

  “What do you mean?” she asks, matching my cool composure. She doesn’t sense any threat—yet.

  Leveling her with a cold stare, I reply, “I mean, what’s your connection to Serg?”

  She opens her mouth, but I place my palm out, stopping her. “Save your breath. I’m not interested in your lies. You have one chance and one chance only to tell me the truth.”

  When she snickers, I realize this is going to get messy. “I am telling you the truth. Now, get out of my way. I’m done with your paranoia.”

  She stalks forward, attempting to shove past me, but I stand firm.


  I can see in the way her lower lip quivers and her pupils darken that she’s frightened. But she doesn’t back down.

  “I’ll scream,” she threatens, eyeing me viciously.

  With a smirk, I say, “Good. I like it when they scream.”

  She must be able to read my determination because she slowly backs up, frantically looking around the room for an exit. There isn’t one.

  I follow her slowly, never taking my eyes off her. She reaches for whatever she can find, throwing it at me. I dodge flying books, ornaments, and whatever else she can use as a weapon. Her reaction proves her guilt.

  It angers and saddens me all in the same breath.

  She bumps into an old cabinet, yelping in fear. “I don’t know anything!” she cries as tears fill her eyes.

  But she does.

  “I wish I could believe you, малышка, but I don’t. Which is why I’m going to hate what I have to do.”

  “What do you mean?” she asks, a tear spilling down her cheek.

  “You know what I mean,” I state with no emotion as I reach into my pocket and produce my knife.

  Her eyes widen when she focuses on the blade. “Please don’t,” she whimpers, shaking her head. “Serg kidnapped me. I’m telling you the truth!”

  The cabinet prohibits her from moving, so I slowly walk toward her. She is frozen in fear. “I know that you’re not,” I calmly argue. “If that were true, then why doesn’t your social media have one inkling supporting this claim?”

  She grips the cabinet behind her so hard, her knuckles turn white.

  “I’d think if your story was, in fact, true, then there would be at least one comment from your friends and family asking where you were. But it seems nothing is amiss. And that’s because you’re not actually missing, are you?”

  She shakes her head, more tears now falling. “Please, no,” she cries, which is the first time I’ve seen her cower in the face of fear.

  Thus far, she’s been nothing but strong, but now, she’s frightened because she knows I’ve found out her secret. And now, I must deal with her accordingly.

  “I’m sorry, малышка. I really am, but I cannot allow a spy to live.”

  My words incite a fire under her, and she attempts to make a run for it, but I lunge for her wrist, drawing her into my chest. She struggles madly, screaming at the top of her lungs. I place a hand over her mouth, ignoring the bile rising at what I’m about to do.