Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal Book 2) (20 page)

Carmine, on the other hand …

Kaz was walking after Alberto when Carmine called out, “You touch my fucking—” but his words were cut off when Rus slammed the butt of his own rifle into the man’s face.

Once he was outside the office, Kaz’s men stripped him of everything besides his shirt and pants, leaving the rest on the floor behind them. With someone on either side of him, Alberto was unable to do anything but follow their direction

Rus was behind them, and once they transferred into the van, he drove them away from the restaurant and toward a nearby drop spot. Once they were in place and Alberto was secure enough that he couldn’t move, Kaz placed his gun on the table and lit a cigarette.

Alberto glared, his lips curled as he regarded him with thinly veiled disgust. “Just a boy playing a man.”

Taking another drag of his cigarette, he grabbed one of the folding chairs against the wall, dragging it back to set up in front of Alberto. Blowing the smoke out as he sat, Kaz asked the only question on his mind.

“Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“You—”

Kaz shook his head with a frown. “
You
forgot a key lesson when you decided to become my father’s
suka
, Gallucci. I’m a Markovic, and we don’t lose. Now, you either tell me where the fuck Vasily is holding my wife, or I’ll show you what Gavrill would have done to you if he were here.”

“You lack respect for authority, Kazimir. Had you been my boy, I would have killed you long before you caused me this much trouble.”

Looking at one of the men in the room, Kaz pointed at Alberto. “Has he heard a fucking word I’m saying?” Then back to Alberto. “I don’t think you understand the tangled web you’ve stepped in, Gallucci. Or have you forgotten what Vasily was willing to do to his own brother?”

And maybe that was a lesson Kaz should have thought of as well.

“You know who he is,” Kaz went on, not wanting to get trapped in his own head with his regrets. “You know what he’s capable of. Do you think he won’t hurt her to teach me a lesson?”

That was the fear he had meant when talking to Rus hours ago. Her death would be too easy for him, but torturing her would prolong the pain.

Alberto scoffed, looking away. “We have an arrangement.”

“I don’t think you understand. But maybe I should help you with that.” Kaz ashed his cigarette. “When my brother was eighteen, Vasily had his lover kidnapped, flayed alive, and left the rest of him for his mother to find. You think you
really
know what Vasily is capable of?”

That was enough to make Alberto jerk back, surprise lighting up his eyes, but he didn’t respond, and Kaz didn’t want him to.

“It was a lesson, you see. Vasily wanted to make sure he understood that it was his way or no way at all. Then Rus had been his favorite—I never was. So if he was willing to do that to him, imagine what he would do to Violet to get back at me.”

And there it was.

That moment of impending realization.

Alberto didn’t have to have proof of the deed because what reason did Kaz have to lie? This wasn’t about him.

“This isn’t over, Markovic. You—”

“Where is she?” Kaz didn’t care about wars that would happen later on. The only reason he wasn’t putting a bullet in Alberto right then was because that would only interfere with him getting to Violet. He just needed an answer.

“The Black Hall.”

What the hell was that?

The van door slid shut with a damning click a second before Violet was slammed down to the floor of the vehicle. Her fingernails broke against metal as she fought for purchase, coming up with
nothing
.

“Let me—”

Her words cut off when her face was slammed into the van’s floor.

Apparently, her attacker wasn’t all that interested in tying her hands and legs up, considering the man grabbed her by the hair and picked her up off the floor of the van before flinging her to the other side. Violet’s back hit the door with a crack, and tears spilled as the pain began to spread.

She stared the man down as he grinned at her from up above.

“Go on,” he told her, calm and smooth. “I like the ones that fight, girl, just not the ones that scream.”

Oh, Jesus
.

Violet dug her clenched fists against her sides, keeping her knees tucked up high to her chest, and the rest of her body as far away from the man as she possibly could.

Still, he took a step forward. “Don’t touch me.”

He just laughed. “Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Enough.”

That fucking
voice
.

Violet’s gaze swung from the man who was her current—and probably her biggest—threat, to the one driving.

Vasily Markovic.

He barely gave her a look, but for a brief second, he did meet her stare over his shoulder before his attention was back on the road.

“Make sure she’s clean,” Vasily murmured. “Especially if you’re going to leave her untied.”

Violet flinched back against the van wall when the man came closer. She didn’t want him touching her at all. As it was, the asshole might as well have ripped hair out of her head, and he likely left a few bruises behind, too.

Fuck. Him.

“Don’t touch me,” Violet repeated through clenched teeth.

“Ivan,” Vasily said, “stop wasting time.”

Violet didn’t get a blink in before the man was on her, hands pushing into her clothes and searching for what, she didn’t know. He’d said he liked the ones who fought, so she certainly didn’t mind giving him that.

And she hoped to fuck he liked the row of claw marks she put across his face.

It was only when he ripped her silk blouse did a cold spike of fear settle into Violet’s heart.

Those disgusting fucking hands didn’t stop violating until he was satisfied she had nothing hidden in her clothing.

By the time he was done, Violet had pushed herself into the very far corner, tucked her knees up high again, and glared at the man. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

Vasily chuckled dryly from the driver’s seat, and seconds later, the van pulled over. Without explaining his motives, he exited the seat, slipping into the back as Ivan took the wheel and they began moving again.

She tried not to let the unsteady movements of the vehicle taking corners bother her too much as Vasily stared her down. He knelt down a foot away from her, pulling a white cloth napkin from his pocket and holding it out to her.

Violet didn’t give the item a bit of her attention.

She knew how men like Vasily Markovic worked.

What seemed like a nice gesture was nothing more than a lie. He was a fucking snake—what comfort he might offer her was only a ruse, something to distract her into compliance so that he could suffocate her when she trusted him enough to turn her back to him.

“Fuck you,” Violet spat.

Vasily cracked the tiniest of smiles. “You surprise me, girl.”

Good for him.

Violet turned her face away but kept one eye on Vasily all the while resting back against the seat, one leg outstretched and his other bent at the knee.

“Tell me about the wedding,” Vasily said, not a hint of emotion in his tone. “I hear women love to fuss about that sort of nonsense, yes? Tell me about it.”

Violet kept her lips shut.

When she didn’t give him what he wanted, Vasily leaned forward a bit with a sigh. “Had you been my child, girl, this never would have happened. You see, my oldest girl had a fancy for a young man—Cain, I believe his name was—and I didn’t approve. There were no warnings for her. You see, I simply rid him from her life. Simple and easy.”

A chilled shiver worked its way up Violet’s spine, but still, she kept quiet.

Vasily let out another chuckle. “As your father should have done for you, I think. I might even have turned a cheek to him spilling Kazimir’s blood, considering all the trouble he’s caused me over the years. I have no patience for rebellious brats, you understand? I overlooked Kazimir’s behavior because I had no other choice. Now, he’s forced my hand. Yet
Alberto
seems to believe there is something worthy about you—something fixable in your rebellion.”

“I’m not a child,” Violet said, hatred coating her every word. “It’s not a phase he can wait to pass or beat out of me, you fucking idiot.”

Had Vasily been her father, Violet never would have disrespected him so blatantly, not with her tone or her curses and name-calling. She would have known better.

And maybe she should have this time.

But she didn’t know Vasily Markovic well at all.

She didn’t even see his fist coming until he knocked her out.

Violet awakened slowly; pain bloomed in all different spots of her body, but it focused the most on her jaw and her lower back. She blinked, but only blackness stared back at her.

Confusion settled deep into her stomach as fear welled in her heart.

Sliding her hands along the floor, dirt and grime smeared against her palms. Letting out a painful whine as she pushed herself up, she ignored the nausea swelling in her throat and the haziness in her vision.

Where the fuck was she?

She couldn’t
see
anything.

“Kaz!”

Her shout echoed.

Like a giant hole of nothingness surrounded her.

Panic settled in deep as she tried to stand, but she only became even more disoriented on her feet. Because she wasn’t even sure what the fuck she was standing on. All the blackness staring back at her gave nothing away.

There was no light.

A damp smell.

She reached out for the wall and came up with air.

Violet’s tears welled, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the anxiety to calm enough for her to think. As a child, she’d hated small places. She’d hated the dark even more.

She vividly remembered a nanny her mother had hired when she was about six who had once locked her in a small closet while playing hide and seek by accident. She’d fallen asleep waiting for the nanny to find her, and when she’d woken up surrounded by darkness and in a small space, she’d quite literally had a meltdown that shook the whole wing of the mansion with her screams.

Apparently, her father and others had been searching for her, thinking she had somehow gotten outside and past the security.

It took them hours to realize she was still in the house, locked in that fucking closet.

Violet never saw that nanny again.

Even now, as an adult, that memory still clung to her mind whenever she woke to darkness and nothing else.

Violet opened her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t see anything staring back at her. She forced back the anxiety and ignored the throbbing in her eye as she put her hands out in front of her and walked forward. It was only a few steps before her hands came up against something solid. Feeling around the space, she felt four walls and, eventually, a goddamn
door
.

One with no knob.

Or so it seemed.

There was also no light switch.

The more Violet searched and came up with no way out of whatever fucking box she was in, the worse her panic became until she was gasping for breath and sobbing.

Another memory bubbled up hard and fast as she beat her fists against the door and screamed her frustrations. Maybe it was the musty smell of the place that did it—like rotting garbage and heat rolled into one. Or maybe it was the smell of paint in the air like someone had recently put a layer of paint over the old batch.

But what color would they have painted it being as dark as it was?

Black.

The Black Hall.

Her father’s threat all those many months ago …

Alberto had clearly changed his plans. Kaz was not the one inside the Black Hall.

She was.

Violet’s backside met the floor as she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing away the tears and wishing she could calm down enough to figure out a way out of there.

No one would hear her, she remembered her father saying.

The place was a maze.

Violet just … cried.

As time ticked on, Violet found she was more confused than ever because she didn’t
know
how long she had even been there. She heard no sounds, saw no light, and couldn’t distinguish time to say what had already passed since she woke up.

How long had she been in there before that point?

The sounds in the darkness were the worst. A creak of a floor, the drip from above, and the squeak behind the door she rested against.

They played games with her thoughts, making her think someone was there, someone could hear her, if only she screamed just a little bit louder, maybe.

But no one came.

She didn’t realize how hard she was crying until that was all she could hear.

Just her own breaths.

Her own sobs.

Her own fingers dragging across the floor …

Her sounds were so loud that she didn’t hear the voices echoing from behind the door until whoever it was, was beating on the wood.

“Violet …
krasivaya
… I’m right here, yes? It’s fine.
Violet!”

She heard Kaz’s voice through her panic, shredding away those fears that had been eating her alive. She managed to slide away from the door when he ordered her to, and then wood gave way to more darkness.

But there was light.

From phones. And a flashlight, it seemed.

Violet only saw Kaz coming for her.

And the darkness went away.

It was never supposed to be this easy.

Kaz knew it the moment he had gotten into the building, ready to kill everything in sight if it meant getting to Violet before anything could happen to her. Sure, a few people died, and Rus even took a bullet in the shoulder, but they had ultimately been able to get Violet out without much harm.

Besides the black eye that was making him want to do murder, she was no worse for wear.

Too easy.

Vasily had been nowhere to be found, and despite sending men over every inch of the Black Hall, there was still no sign of him.

Kaz was more frustrated than ever, not liking to leave Vasily in the wind, especially after what he had just done to Violet. His father wasn’t one to back down, and Kaz was sure this wouldn’t be the last he saw of him.

But for now, he had Violet—and that was all he needed.

In the back of the Escalade, Violet stretched out across the seat, her head in his lap as he gently stroked her hair. He didn’t ask her to break the silence, leaving her to her thoughts for the moment. He wasn’t sure of what all had happened in that place, but he wasn’t going to rush her to tell him—Vasily was going to die regardless. The details would only let him know how bloody to make it.

He didn’t take them back to his place, and once he was in the mood to deal with it, he was getting rid of it entirely, a task that should have been done long before now.

Instead, he took her to one of the many gifts he had bought her for the wedding.

The mansion was meant to be a surprise he would show her once he was free long enough to show her, but as of now, it was the best place for her to be since no one knew about it.

As they drove through the gates and up the mile-long driveway, Kaz thought of everything he would have to handle the moment he stepped foot off the property.

Vasily was at the top of his list, and whether his father wanted to admit it or not, he wouldn’t stop—not until he was dead and in the ground.

Then there was his burgeoning problem with the Italians. After his show of force, war was imminent, and nothing was going to call the Italians off him now. But Kaz knew that was inevitable. Even if not for Violet, Alberto would have wanted to make an example out of him regardless.

Sometimes, all it took was a spark, and Kaz had given him one.

But as the SUV rolled to a stop, and he had the back door opened as he helped Violet out of the car and held her in his arms, he didn’t care.

The only thing he cared about at that moment was his wife.

Violet buried her face in Kaz’s jacket, tucking her arms in around his sides, and decided she liked it there just fine. She didn’t care who was watching because, right then, she needed her safe place.

Kaz, from the moment she met him, had been that place.

“I called him a fucking idiot,” Violet mumbled.

Kaz tensed briefly, but then his arms tightened around her frame. “Vasily?”

“Yes.”

He made a sound that came off somewhere between appreciation and concern, however he managed it. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard someone call my father that and live to tell about it.”

Violet scowled. “He hit me.”

Kaz didn’t respond, but his disgusted grunt was more than enough for her to know he was pissed and ready to
kill
.

Peeking over his shoulder, Violet found the place where they had finally arrived. The large mansion sat atop a slightly raised hill, looming high above everything around it. Victorian pillars framed the marble entrance, the paved walkway giving way to a stone path shortly before the stairs.

Violet blinked, unsure of what she was seeing.

“Who lives here?” she asked.

Kaz drew her impossibly closer, turning them at the same time but keeping her tucked into his side. His hand tangled into her hair, tipping her head to the side enough for him to press a kiss to her mouth.

“We do—
will
—as of now,” Kaz said quietly.

Violet just stared at the mansion, taking in the little details and the empty driveway. Glancing behind them, she found cars parked behind their SUV, and men standing at the vehicles, waiting and unmoving.

Some she recognized from the wedding.

Others she just knew—like Ruslan.

“Ours?”

Kaz smiled down at her. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t give you the house of your dreams, hmm?”

Violet swallowed hard, clenching her hands into his jacket and holding him to her side. He wasn’t going fucking anywhere if she had any say about it. Not after today.

“When?” she asked.

“It’s been in the works for a while,” he admitted.

Because he’d always known where they were going, she realized.

He’d never wanted anything different.

Violet’s lips split into a wide grin, despite the pain it caused in her eye. Kaz instantly took note of her flinch, his hand coming up to stroke her cheekbone just below the bruise she must have sported.

“This won’t happen again,” he promised.

Violet nodded but said nothing.