Death should have made him feel something.
He was usually affected, in some small way that he didn’t notice right away, but despite having killed his wife’s mother not even a week ago, he still felt … nothing. But he was sure, at least until all of this came to an end, he wouldn’t be feeling anything.
Seated at his desk, the dismantled pieces of an AR-15 sat in front of him, all freshly cleaned and oiled. Something about the process was calming—the simplicity of his movements helping clear his mind of all the shit worrying him.
But the end was close, so close that he could almost see it. There were just a few small matters that needed to be dealt with first, and the first was right in his own home.
All day, Kaz had avoided his wife as much as he could, locking himself away in his office. He couldn’t stay gone forever, not when she had Anastasya, but as though she knew something was on his mind, Violet hadn’t called him out on his absence.
He was thankful.
But that feeling wouldn’t last long, not when he finally told Violet what was on his mind—what he had been struggling to tell her all day. Whether she liked it or not, what he would ask of her was a necessary evil.
Deciding it was best to finish his task before he headed out there, Kaz took his time as he reassembled his rifle, placing the completed piece back in its case and locking it away.
Finishing no more than fifteen minutes after he started, Kaz took a breath then took a swallow of the vodka he’d poured earlier. It seared his throat on the way down, but he welcomed the burn—his punishment for what he was about to ask of her.
Violet was curled up on the couch, Anastasya cradled in her arms as she fed. His two favorite girls.
The sight of them made him pause.
He could have never imagined that he would end up here with a girl from the other side of the bridge—the girl from the other side of the bridge. In a city of millions, she was the only one forbidden to him, but the only one he wanted to keep forever.
Violet spotted him before he could say anything, her lips slowly curling into a smile. “What?”
“I can enjoy you a moment, no?” Kaz asked, stepping further into the room.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You want something. That’s the only time you pour on the charm.”
Kaz chuckled because she knew him well. Taking a seat beside her on the couch, he cupped the back of her head, pulling her forward just enough to press his lips against her forehead then gave Anastasya a kiss as well.
That was when Violet’s smile faded. Yes, she knew him well, and though he hadn’t said a word yet, she knew something was wrong.
“Let me put Anastasya down then we can … talk.”
Violet wasn’t gone more than a handful of minutes before she was settling back beside him, curling her legs up beneath her. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”
“Your father,” he started, “it’s happening within the week.”
She blinked.
He understood her confusion because he rarely spoke to her about anything related to his business. He liked to keep certain things outside of their home if he could help it. But it was important that he explain this detail because she would want to know.
Having Alfie just as determined as he was to see Alberto dead had made the plan rather simple. Kaz had looked over and memorized everything, down to the very last detail; he knew he would be ready for anything.
The clock was ticking down.
“But before that can happen,” Kaz continued. “I need to make sure that you and Anastasya are safe.”
A moment of confusion, then surprise, and finally, anger. “No.”
“Violet—”
She shoved to her feet, taking off in a flurry to the kitchen. “No.”
Sighing as he got to his feet, Kaz followed. “It’s a necessary precaution.”
“You made a promise to me, Kaz,” she threw over her shoulder.
“And this will be the last time I ask this of you, krasivaya,” he said, catching her around the waist with an arm, dragging her back to him before she could get too far. “It won’t be long, a few days at most.”
Violet wasn’t so easily swayed. “Right. You said that last time.”
“And I’m saying it this time.”
She spun in his arms, looking up at him with such sad eyes. “I don’t like this, Kaz.”
Kaz shook his head, drawing her closer before resting his chin on top of her head, waiting until her stance relaxed before he spoke. “I love you and Anastasya more than anything in the world. Don’t ever think that I won’t do everything in my power to keep you safe. Once this is done, and not a second later, the two of you will be right back here where I can spoil you for the rest of our lives.”
A heartbeat later, Violet exhaled and said, “Make sure you come back to us, Kaz. Promise me that.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I promise.”
He’d promised her.
He promised not to send her away again, yet there Violet was, in the backseat of a black SUV, heading toward the private airstrip she hadn’t wanted to see for a long time. Anastasya sat happily in her car seat, watching the dangling toys bounce with the movement of the vehicle, her blue-gray eyes lit up with fascination.
She had no idea of her mother’s heartbreak, none at all.
The baby girl didn’t know that it could be days, weeks, or even months before she saw her father again. One of two people in the entire world who loved her more than their own life, and she didn’t even know.
Violet leaned over to her daughter, letting the baby chew on a frozen teething ring she’d been holding. At just two months old, Anastasya was already getting her first tooth on the bottom. It was barely peeking through the gum, but it was there.
Still, the baby rarely fussed about it.
She was such a good girl—laid-back like her father.
“Do you want to grab something to eat before we hit the airstrip?” her driver asked. “It’ll be a long flight and plane food is garbage.”
Violet didn’t know the name of the man. Kaz had simply waved her toward the car without introduction, and then proceeded to threaten the driver with his life should something go wrong between the mansion and the private airstrip.
“Mrs. Markovic?” the driver asked.
Violet shook her head. “I’m not hungry, but thank you.”
Despite her bad mood, she knew it would do her no good to treat her driver like shit simply because she wasn’t happy. It wasn’t his fault, really. He was only doing his job, and he was, at least, attempting to be pleasant.
That was more than Violet could say for some of the other guards Kaz had put on her.
They were always respectful, but nice was another matter altogether.
“If you’re sure,” the guy said.
“It’s fine.”
Violet stared out the window, watching the road fly by with little traffic slowing their drive. She had a feeling that ‘fine’ would be her mantra for longer than she wanted to admit.
She knew this time was not going to be the same as the last time. The cell phone in her pocket being one thing that was different. She would have access to her husband by way of phone calls. They could talk, and that would help a great deal. She could let Anastasya hear her father’s voice, and they wouldn’t be completely cut off from him and their home.
But she was still heartbroken.
Too many times growing up, Violet could remember doing this very same thing. A car would show up wherever she was—be it school, home, or somewhere else—and that would be it. She would find herself shuffled into the vehicle without so much as an explanation, driven to another state, and dropped at one of their many vacation homes. Sometimes, they would fly out of the country.
Never with her father. He stayed behind.
It was the nature of the business.
It was a part of being who she was.
She just … missed Kaz.
All too soon, the private airstrip was coming into view. The driver quieted as he pulled down the runway, going toward the jet that was waiting at the very end. Hangars that were probably filled with private planes and jets surrounded the private airstrip.
“The door should be open,” her driver said.
Violet looked at him, confused. “Pardon?”
“Boss said the door on the plane would be open when we got here. It’s not open.”
She checked what he was saying, finding that he was right. The jet’s door was firmly closed, and the stairs that would lead her up to the entrance had been pushed away. Violet was pretty sure the pilot and flight attendant should be waiting at the end of the staircase, as they usually would, to greet their passengers.
It was strange.
The plane didn’t even look to be running.
“They knew what time we were coming, right?” Violet asked.
The man nodded, already leaning over to reach for the phone he’d tossed away earlier in the drive. “I’m just going to call—”
His words cut off when, without rush and in a long line, cars began to move from behind several of the private hangars.
Violet stared at the scene, watching as the vehicles suddenly began to break away from each other and their line. By the time her driver had thrown their vehicle in reverse and hit the gas, tossing Violet violently forward in her seat, they were entirely surrounded.
From every angle.
Cars behind them.
From the side.
In front.
Like a giant circle all the way around.
There was no way out.
The numb calm settling over Violet’s system was almost frightening. She could feel the fast beats of her heart, the thrumming in her throat and the fear simmering through her blood, but she was still so calm.
Her driver reached for a gun in his glove box.
Violet already knew it would do them no good.
Her father was making his final move, she realized.
Perhaps Alberto had expected this very thing—that Kaz would do what was best and right for his family as he always had, and send them away to be safe while blood painted the city red in his attempt to end it all once and for all. And in knowing that, maybe her father had decided to strike.
Was all that had come before—all that Alberto threw at them—just a lead up to this one moment?
Violet’s hand snaked across the seat and into her daughter’s car seat. She felt the softness of Anastasya’s cheek under her palm, and as the cars came closer, slowly closing them in a little more, she took that one moment to just touch her child.
She didn’t know what was going to happen.
But Violet did know a few things.
Fighting would do her no good. These people—likely her father’s men—had a job to do, and they would do it whether she fought them or not.
They wouldn’t hurt her, not enough to leave her for dead. This fact, Violet was positive of. Alberto had promised to hurt the things that meant the very most to her, but not her. The driver, however, was probably another story.
Violet couldn’t dwell on that for now.
She had more important things to consider.
Things like her child—what if they took her?
Violet’s panic came up fast and harsh, knocking her from that calm state and bringing her back down to reality.
What if he took her baby?
“Fuck!”
She heard the driver utter that one word just a single second before glass blew out the driver’s side window. He’d already had his gun out, and ready, but it did no good. Blood and brain matter painted the passenger side window and the seats as the bullet exited the right side of his head, and his body slumped over the seats.
Violet, watching men begin to slide out rather gracefully from their vehicles, scrambled for her daughter. Her hands shook as she unbuckled the baby’s harness, and she pulled a now crying Anastasya from her car seat.
“Mama’s here,” Violet told her, holding the baby closer and grabbing the fluffy blanket to wrap her tightly inside. “I’m right here, sweet girl.”
It didn’t help.
The noise from the gunshot and breaking glass had stunned the baby. It pissed Violet off.
Anastasya was just a baby.
She didn’t understand these people or why they were doing these things.
She was innocent.
Nearer the men came …
Violet hit the lock button on the SUV, hoping to at least deter them for a bit longer. Just enough for her to dig in her purse, her hand still trembling as she searched for the item that would likely do her no good.
She was far outnumbered.
There were too many men for her one.
Still, she grabbed her gun as she watched an arm come up and smash the back passenger window, blowing out the glass.
Violet already had her hand raised, her gun aimed and ready. She whispered an apology to the baby as she pulled the trigger, knowing it would only scare her daughter more.
Anastasya cried loudly as Violet watched heated metal plug into the man’s forehead. She was already cocking the hammer back and aiming again as another man came up to the window.
Fuck them.
If they were going to take her—or her baby—they were going to have to fucking work for it.
Violet just pulled the trigger a second time when the glass from the back window behind her was punched out, too. She hit her target, the bullet plowing into the man’s left eye, but then her gun flew from her hand when someone grabbed her hair and yanked hard, sending her flying backward in the seat.
Cursing, Violet held tight to her child as doors were opened and men were climbing in. She heard their Italian, and their English. They warned her, and another promised.
“Give us the child,” she heard.
“Stop fighting, princess,” another told her.
“Fuck you,” Violet spat.
Violet didn’t listen. She broke every single fingernail against the faces that shadowed her vision. She felt the heel of her stiletto stab into the soft flesh of one of the men’s groins hard enough to make him vomit down the backseat.
And then …
Then Anastasya was gone.
Ripped from her arms as another man grabbed her ankles and pulled her the opposite way. Violet flipped over onto her stomach, kicking her foot out at the man and hitting him in the face as she clamored back toward the way her daughter was going.
Doors were slammed closed on her, and she crashed into it as the man walked away, her daughter’s bright gray eyes filled with tears over the man’s shoulder.
No.
No, no, no.
The words were screamed inside her head, but Violet didn’t even realize she was screaming it out loud too until her throat ached.
“Please don’t take my baby!”
Didn’t they understand what they were doing?
Didn’t they know what Alberto would do to her baby?
By the time Violet was able to get out of the SUV, the cars were already pulling away, disappearing far faster than they had come, and leaving her screaming on her knees for what they had taken.
Something so precious …
They had no idea they were driving her baby girl to her death.
None at all.
Violet, tear-stained, bloody, and sobbing, stumbled back to the SUV. She searched for her phone, but it took far too long for her to find the fucking thing. Dialing Kaz’s number, the call rang and rang and rang. It was rare for him not to pick up a call—rarer for him not to answer one from her. Her hands shook so badly that she almost dropped the phone when she ended the call and tried again.
He still didn’t answer.
Where was he?
Violet let out a sound that could only be described as pure agony when Kaz’s voicemail picked up, and she screamed into the phone for him to fucking pick up.
Her words were just a vomit of pain.
The baby, the baby, the baby.
Took my baby.
The voicemail cut off, and the call dropped.
Violet’s tears flowed freely as the phone sat in her hands. She had never felt more useless in those moments—never more incapable.
But there might be one thing she could do.
Maybe.
Violet wiped her tears away and turned on the phone again. She dialed a number that she hadn’t willingly called in longer than she could remember.
She sucked in a deep breath, willing the shakiness from her tone to leave so she could speak.
Unsurprisingly, the call went to voicemail.
The familiar voice spoke his message to the caller. “Alberto Gallucci.”
That was all his voicemail had ever said.
When it beeped, Violet started talking.
“Her name is Anastasya Liliya Markovic.”
And she kept talking.
Even when the voicemail time ended and she had to call back.
Five messages, then six.
Eight.
Nine.
Every moment of her daughter’s life from the second she’d taken her first breath to the moment she was taken away.
The most private moments, and the cutest seconds.
The struggles, the exhaustion, and the laughter.
Things she didn’t think her father deserved to know.
Things he could have been a part of had he just loved her enough.
Things he missed.
Things that proved her daughter was human.
Beautifully innocent, so entirely loved, and human.