Violet’s hands hit Kaz’s chest hard, and while she was sure her strength compared to his was very little, he still stepped back a few inches. It was the pain in his eyes that she saw—the regret there was obvious and weighing on him.
A day—and a night—and her child was still gone.
She felt entirely out of control, and because Kaz was the closest one to her, he was suffering the consequences of her lashing out.
Violet didn’t know how else to deal.
But her husband let her fight. He let her shout and scream and rage.
“I told you!” she shouted at him. “I told you not to send us away and now—”
“Stop.”
Violet didn’t. “This is your fault! He wouldn’t have her at all if you hadn’t done this!”
There were people in the next room, just a short walk away, likely listening to their fight and waiting it out before appearing. The house was full of people—had been since the baby was taken. It was terrible of her to be fighting with Kaz like this, but she was so angry.
And God …
Worried.
Where was her baby?
Was she even alive?
“Violet,” Kaz started to say, taking a step toward her.
She held her hands up in front of her, needing the distance and the space. The anger was far easier to deal with than the pain and the fear. “You know what—no, Kaz, I don’t even want you near me right now. I don’t want to see your face.”
Ouch.
That even hurt her to say.
Kaz winced but hid it well enough by glancing away. And then as fast as he was giving her space, he was closing it, wrapping her tightly in an embrace that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get free of. His quiet, dark murmurs in her hair, and his hands splayed wide across her back made her break.
He wouldn’t let go.
Not when she asked.
Not when she hit him again.
Not when she yelled.
It was only when Violet felt the hot tears staining her cheeks did she realized she was crying, and even her chest hurt from the force of her sobs.
“I’m sorry,” Kaz said above her, his arms tightening impossibly harder around her middle. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
She knew he was.
Even with what she’d screamed at him before, she knew in her heart that this really wasn’t his fault. Neither of them could have done anything to stop this from happening. Alberto had a plan, she was just now realizing. Everything he had done before was simply the art of violent escalation to put Kaz on the path Alberto wanted him.
One where he felt it better to send his family away.
One where Alberto could easily step in and ruin everything Kaz worked so hard for.
That was exactly what he had done.
Violet only spoke when she could finally get a half-decent breath. “I’m sorry—it’s not your fault.”
Kaz kissed the top of her head. “I knew you didn’t mean it, krasivaya. Anger does terrible things to people.”
How right he was …
“Tell me it’s going to be fine,” Violet mumbled.
“You don’t like it when I do that now.”
“Lie to me.”
Kaz sighed. “It won’t be a lie.”
She didn’t know about that.
Before Kaz could reassure her, a form was darkening the doorway of the room, interrupting their moment. Violet couldn’t see who it was, but guessing by the way Kaz didn’t let her go, she suspected it was someone he didn’t mind seeing them as they were.
“Stop wasting time standing there. Speak,” Kaz said.
“We’ve got … something happening,” Ruslan said.
Kaz let go of Violet instantly but gave her a look over his shoulder that told her to stay put a second before he disappeared from the room.
Violet scrubbed her hands through her hair then down her face. Stress was eating her alive, and so was the absolute terror roaming freely in her mind and body. She was sure that was Alberto’s only wish in this whole shit show.
To terrorize her.
Well, he fucking succeeded—
Violet’s thought process stopped entirely when she heard her husband shout, “Open the fucking gates!”
Despite knowing she should stay put, Violet’s body acted of its own accord, and she bolted from the room, heading for the front of the house. By the time she got to the front doors that had been left flung wide open, she could see Kaz running down the driveway.
Violet’s heart stopped as she saw just what he was running toward.
Could it …
Why?
Carmine walked slowly, limping on his left step, with his face battered and bruised, his eyes blackened, and his nose clearly broken. But guessing by the looks of the marks, whatever attack he had suffered was days old.
Maybe even more.
But it was what was in his arms that made Violet cry out, heading for the stairs herself to follow after Kaz.
A little form, all wrapped up in a shimmering pink blanket.
The blanket Kaz had chosen to send their daughter with the morning she was taken.
What were the chances that wasn’t Anastasya in those blankets?
There was no one behind Violet’s brother. No one following him. No guns behind the gate waiting.
Violet’s foot just hit the step when one of Kaz’s men grabbed her around the waist, pulling her back and refusing to let her go.
“Please,” she begged, “that’s my baby!”
The man didn’t even give her a response, but Violet still fought him, even as she watched the scene unfold in front of her down the driveway.
At the same time, Kaz took the pink bundle from Carmine’s arms, he pulled the gun from his back. The barrel of the weapon met Carmine’s forehead hard enough to send him back a step.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put you down like a fucking dog!” Kaz roared.
Carmine’s response was loud and clear. “Because I know where he is—you know where he is. He’s going to be there alone; he wants you to think he has the baby.”
“Keep going.”
“I’m going to make some calls when I leave here—calls that will leave him unprotected while he’s there.”
Violet knew what she was hearing perfectly fine.
These were, essentially, the final moments of her father’s life being decided.
She just wanted her baby.
“I mean, you could kill me,” Carmine said, shrugging though it looked painful for him to do so. “And then this will continue. He’s not going to stop, not until you or her”—he nodded over Kaz’s shoulder, toward Violet—”are dead.”
A second passed and then another.
The silence was deafening.
Why wasn’t her baby crying … or something?
“He won’t hurt the baby.” Carmine’s gaze dropped to the tiny bundle that was tight to her father’s chest. “He’d never hurt the baby.”
“Where is he going to be, Gallucci?”
Carmine laughed, shaking his head. “You think I’m fucking stupid? I’m not, Russian. You and the baby come with me. I’ll drop you off where you need to be, and then I’ll make my phone calls, and only then.”
Violet could see the tension tightening her husband’s shoulders.
“Those are heavy demands,” Kaz said, “from a man who’s still limping from our last encounter.”
Carmine smirked. “That’s why I made the demands, Markovic. Get me once, shame on you. Get me twice …”
The wind picked up, carrying the rest of Carmine’s sentence away. It was cold, Violet wanted to tell them, and they should bring the baby out of the wind.
“I’ll have a gun to your head the whole time. You so much as breathe wrong and I’ll paint the vehicle with your brain matter.”
“Fine by me,” Carmine responded in kind.
The wind had picked up on the journey to the cemetery. Kaz could hear it whipping against the body of the car, swaying them just slightly, but he didn’t focus on the whistling sound. Rather, he focused on the baby that was staring at him with wide, familiar eyes.
In his darkest hours, he found himself thinking of her, his little printsessa, the light of his life. Just the thought of her was enough to quell the helplessness he’d felt over the last many hours. It had never been a question as to whether or not he would get Anastasya back, only when.
The rage that had consumed him when he’d learned she was taken was only eclipsed by the choking fear that threaded through his entire being at the idea of never seeing his little girl again.
Kaz had started to believe that it was about him, that Alberto had meant to punish him, for taking from him what wasn’t his in the first place, but after he had pushed his grief to a place that he could ignore, he saw Alberto’s actions for what they were.
It hadn’t been about Kaz at all, rather Violet.
It had always been about Violet.
He wanted her to hurt, and Kaz saw the strain Alberto’s actions had caused his wife. And since Anastasya had been taken, she had barely slept, and when she finally did, she jerked awake, shaking hands grasping the sheets.
Tonight, Kaz knew, she would finally be able to sleep through the night.
Anastasya made a happy sort of sound, wrapping her tiny, little fingers around the one he had tracing her hair. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered in Russian, conscious of listening ears.
“We’re almost there, Russian,” Carmine called from the front seat, not looking away from the windshield.
Kaz wondered what he must have looked like at that moment—a gun in one hand, aimed at his brother-in-law, and another resting on his daughter.
Story of his life—but this chapter was almost over.
The threat of rain was still prevalent when they arrived about a block away from the cemetery. This time, a fleet of SUVs wasn’t waiting for him, nor did he see the security Alberto usually kept with him.
But the street was nearly vacant, not a soul in sight. Carmine parallel parked, bruised eyes looking at him through the rearview mirror.
“Soon as he’s dead, she’s all yours.”
Kaz tucked his gun away, taking one last look at his daughter. She wouldn’t remember this day, not like he had when he was brought to this place more than fifteen years ago. And by the time he left this place, he would ensure that this day wouldn’t follow her.
“Exactly ten minutes from now, call my brother and give him this address. What I said before still stands. Your father will die today, but you … you can live a long, prosperous life.”
Carmine nodded.
One last glance at his daughter, Kaz said, “Not a hair on her head, Gallucci.”
Outside of the car, the wind whipped at his coat, blowing through the strands of his hair, but all Kaz could focus on was the wrought-iron gate looming ahead of him, opened wide as though welcoming him inside.
You’ll know where I’ll be.
Kaz did know—the moment Alberto had given him the name. It felt only right that it was here where everything would end—the same place this vicious cycle of violence had begun.
Strolling through, his gaze immediately sought the low-sitting bench on the north side of the cemetery where, as he had expected, Alberto awaited him, his hands folded in his lap. He appeared rather calm, but why shouldn’t he when he thought he was getting what he wanted?
And he nearly had, had he paid even the slightest bit of attention.
But his lapse was Kaz’s gain.
While Alberto didn’t look at Kaz as he approached, he knew he was there. “The poor man’s cemetery,” Alberto said, still staring out at the tombstones. “This was your father’s choice, you know—our meeting here. Hallowed ground, we’d said.”
Kaz didn’t think the man was asking for a response, nor did he think he wanted one. He wanted to talk.
“One man,” Alberto continued. “One man to end the violence between our families—that was what we agreed.” Alberto’s lips curled with dark amusement. “The bodies that have been buried since then … the number boggles my mind.”
To this, Kaz had a response. “It didn’t have to be this way. I never wanted a war with you, but you gave me no choice.”
Alberto laughed without humor. “You’re a father now. One day you’ll understand my desire to protect my daughter from men like you.”
“Men like me?” Kaz echoed. “Men like us, no?”
“I don’t believe it matters anymore,” the Italian said, now looking at Kaz with an unreadable expression. “It’s time, Kazimir.”
“Yes, I believe it is.”
“Your life for hers,” Alberto said as he drew out his phone. “As soon as I get what I want, I’ll have the girl released.”
Kaz retrieved his gun, holding the heavy metal in his hand, the spider web tattooed there stretching and pulling with the movement. How many times had he held this very gun in his hand? Countless, for sure, but he could only think of one other occasion when it mattered as much as this.
“Don’t worry,” Alberto said with all the confidence in the world. “You won’t suffer long.”
“I want you to understand that you always had a choice, Alberto—we all have choices. This thing … this fucked-up thing between our families, could have stayed a secret had you and my father just let it go.”
“Pardon?” Alberto returned, now moving to his feet. “This isn’t meant to be a discussion.”
Kaz went on as though the man hadn’t spoken. “The two of you caused your own deaths.”
“How many times must we go through this?”
“Tell me, where is Anastasya?” Kaz asked.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but if you’re still speaking, you’re not dead.”
His humor was fading, replaced quickly with annoyance as though Kaz’s question and statements were hindering him.
“You gave someone explicit instructions as to what to do with Anastasya. Who was that person?”
Alberto glared at him, the muscle in his jaw working as he ground his teeth, but very slowly, his expression shifted, and had Kaz not been looking for it, he might not have noticed the touch of anxiety in the man’s eyes.
“Go ahead,” Kaz said as he began screwing the silencer onto his gun. “Give me an answer.”
“My son would never betray me,” Alberto said with conviction. “He knows his place.”
“Your son? Right. Did you not wonder why I let him go? I couldn’t give a shit about Carmine—he would’ve died out of spite. You’re a smart man, you should’ve known.”
Alberto made a snarling sort of sound as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear, calling Kaz’s bluff, but it didn’t take long before he got the answer he hadn’t been hoping for.
Kaz shook his head, moving his hands to his front as he stared at the Italian across from him. “That’s always been your problem, Alberto. You only see what you want and not what’s in front of you.”
Pocketing his phone, Alberto drew in a breath, seeming to stand up straighter. “I’ve given them everything.”
“Except what they wanted the most—but what do I know?”
Alberto said something else, the words low and in Italian—a prayer, Kaz thought. How quickly the tables had turned. Straightening his arm, he stared down the barrel of the gun at the man who had terrorized his family.
It was almost over …
“Get on your knees.”
“Not for you or any man,” Alberto said.
“Get on your knees or I’ll put you on them.”
Still, Alberto remained where he was—stubborn as only Gallucci men could be. Kaz respected him for it, had expected nothing less, but that didn’t mean he made idle threats.
Aiming, he put a bullet in each of Alberto’s knees, sending the man toppling to the ground with a shout, blood already pooling into the dark material of his trousers.
“If you have last words, now would be a choice time.”
Alberto sat up as much as he could. “I’ll see you in hell, Kazimir.”
Kaz nodded once. “Say hello to my father.” Another squeeze of the trigger had the man’s head jerking back with the impact of the bullet.
Stowing his gun, Kaz stared down at the body for a moment longer before heading back out the way he came, feeling as though the weight of the world was lifting with each step he took.
Rus was waiting for him outside the cemetery, whatever emotions the man was feeling hidden behind sunglasses. Spying Kaz, he pushed off his truck, shooting a nod in his direction before he and the three men he had come with started past him—there was a mess to clean up.
“Did you check his pulse?” Carmine asked when Kaz got close, not moving from his perch even as Kaz opened the back door. “Bastards like him never die the first time.”
Anastasya was still awake, babbling, smiling wider when she got a good look at Kaz. The sight of her happiness made his chest feel tight. Nothing else mattered, not anymore.
“Let’s get you home, printsessa.”
Violet’s world had stopped turning at some point.
She thought maybe it had happened when her child was taken from her, but she quickly realized that was not the case at all.
Her world came to a standstill when she was forced into the mansion by one of her husband’s men, but she had to watch her husband and child disappear into a vehicle, and then … drive away.
She didn’t even get to see Anastasya.
No time, Carmine had said.
Kaz had to make hard choices—Violet understood that. Between the two of them, he was better at it, frankly.
That didn’t mean she felt good about.
Violet sat by the windows in the living room, watching the long length of their driveway as the wind began to blow. The few, scattered snowflakes that had started to fall were blown in every direction, and the trees bent hard from the wind.
Anastasya was too little to be out in this.
She would get sick.
Violet didn’t allow her thoughts to stray much further than those things. She knew that if she did, then the fear would take over her again. It could be as simple as a thought about what was taking so long, or why hadn’t Kaz called yet, and there she would be … fucked.
She had to trust her husband.
He knew what he was doing.
He would come home, and he’d have their child with him.
He would.
Violet didn’t know how long she sat there on the window ledge, watching the wind blow and the driveway fill with snow. She purposely avoided looking at the large, ornate clock filling one-half of a wall across the room. A watched pot never boiled, after all. Long enough that it became darker outside, and the men in the mansion started to murmur among themselves in the next room.
For the most part, they left her alone.
She was thankful for that bit of graciousness.
Even behind the window and safely inside the warm house, Violet could still hear the wind whistling outside.
It chilled her right down to the bone.
It almost sounded like crying whines scratching against the window.
How appropriate …
At some point, Violet must have turned her head to look at the clock, even after she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, because the next thing she knew, lights were coloring up the wall. Headlights—from someone driving up the driveway.
She didn’t even wait to look out the window and see if it was her husband.
No, she flew off the damn window ledge, bolting out of the room and making her way to the front of the house. The men in the next room trailed after her, one demanding she leave the door closed as her husband had said.
Violet didn’t listen.
She threw the door open just in time to see Kaz’s SUV pull up. He’d refused to take whatever Carmine had come in, demanding to take his for the car seat that was in the back for the baby.
Violet’s heart finally started beating again.
Her lungs took in a real breath.
A hand snaked around her wrist just as she tried to go out the door to meet her husband, but she managed to jerk out of the hold, and it wasn’t more than a blink of time before she was down those front steps.
Kaz’s arms were already open—peace reflecting in his eyes.
Violet didn’t ask when she found his embrace.
She didn’t ask what had happened.
She didn’t want to know.
But she knew, even as he hugged her tighter and kissed her mouth softly, that it was over.
It was all perfectly fine.
“I think the baby’s hungry,” Kaz told her.
She could hear Anastasya’s soft coos coming from the back seat of the SUV.
The wind, as hard as it was, barely registered to Violet’s overworked senses.
“Krasivaya, let’s get the baby inside,” Kaz said quietly, “and get back to life.”
Because life for them was loving.
“Yeah, okay.”
She held him for another thirty seconds first.
Kaz let her.