by Bethany-Kris
Kaz let that comment roll off his shoulders. He’d been told worse. “As I said, there’s nothing here that belongs to your father, so be a smart little prick, and go.”
“Not until you give me what I’ve come for, Kazimir. My sister—now.”
“No,” Kaz replied, unfazed.
If this was the only thing Carmine had to toss at Kaz, the fool was going to be surprised at the outcome.
“You’re not walking away from this one, Markovic,” Carmine said, never taking his gaze off Kaz for a moment. “If I were you, I’d get on my knees and beg for a bullet.”
“That’s because you’re weak, Carmine. Unlike you, I don’t get on my knees for anyone.”
Carmine smirked, his voice lowering just enough as to not be heard by the men feet away. “Seems there is a particular slut you’ll get on your knees for, huh?”
It was the “slut” that made Kaz’s eye twitch. He couldn’t ever picture calling one of his sisters that, but Carmine had done it easily, with relish almost.
Words rarely bothered Kaz, not when he had called himself worse during his darker times, but hearing Carmine say that about Violet? It made him snap.
Before he could even check the impulse, his fist was flying, landing with almost perfect precision across the man’s jaw, just as he’d been about to say something else. It was at the perfect angle that as soon as his knuckles met Carmine’s face, he felt the crack of bone.
Even Carmine couldn’t contain a grunt of pain as his head jerked to the side with the force of Kaz’s hit. He had barely drawn his fist back when he heard the unmistakable sound of guns being drawn.
But his attention wasn’t focused on the weapons aimed in his direction, but rather to the car where a door was being opened. Kaz knew, even before the first hint of the man’s dark head showed above the roof, that it was Alberto Gallucci. And though they looked quite similar, there was definitely a difference between father and son.
While Carmine played at being a boss, it was clear that Alberto was one. He had yet to even say a word as he took his time walking past the cars, but he didn’t have to use his words to announce that he was the man in charge. It was just a known fact. Though the men never took their eyes from Kaz, they all stepped out of the way as Alberto neared.
Kaz, on the other hand, was not impressed. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure, Gallucci.”
“No, I’m glad to say we haven’t.” Alberto came close enough to be just a couple of feet away from Kaz, and barely gave his injured son a second glance. Lowering his voice just enough to not be heard by all watching, he said, “Not with you being an adult, anyway. Although I must say, I liked you better as a boy, before you thought to chase after my daughter.”
“I seem to remember that differently, then.”
Alberto rubbed his hands together, as if he was wiping dirt from them. “Oh?”
“I liked her quite well then, too, no?”
The Italian boss stiffened, but that was his only show of irritation. His face remained as cold and impassive as ever as he looked Kaz over once more, then his gaze swept to the house behind him. “I will give you one more chance to give my daughter to me and this all goes away, Kazimir.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can assure you that if you storm my sister’s home like you own the place, you might not like what Vasily does.”
Alberto smiled then—small and dark. “I think you will soon come to find you have no idea what your father will do.”
Kaz felt the brief urge to reach for the gun at his back, but he beat it down. It would do him no good at that moment, given the weapons still trained on him.
“Two minutes,” Alberto continued, “and she had better be clothed.”
“I told you—”
Alberto held up a hand, stopping Kaz. “I may not like your kind, but there is one thing we Russians and Italians have in common in our business, and that is learned respect. You have, in the highest of regards, disrespected me, Kazimir. And you will either bring me what is mine, or I will take it from you.”
Kaz’s fist clenched with the need to strike another man. He had the feeling that hitting Alberto would not end as well as it had when he hit the man’s son.
“She’s not yours,” Kaz said cooly.
She was his.
Alberto sighed, passing another look over Kaz’s shoulder. It took all Kaz had not to turn around and make sure his sister and Violet weren’t watching from the windows where they could be seen.
“Topina,” Alberto called loudly, “venire. Now.”
Kaz didn’t move, he barely even breathed. He wasn’t sure what the Italian had said, but it couldn’t have been too threatening, considering it was only a couple of words.
When Alberto didn’t get the desired reaction from within the house that he clearly wanted, his calm mask slipped a bit when his gaze narrowed.
“Fine, Violet,” Alberto said, still loud enough to carry over the yard and into the dark house. “We will do this your way, ragazza. Il prossimo scatola apparterrà al suo cuore.”
“What did you just say?” Kaz demanded.
Alberto said nothing to Kaz, simply held his hand down to his side, and opened his palm to his still groaning son. “Take my hand and get up off the ground, Carmine. I have let you whimper down there long enough. Any more and you will turn into a sniveling puppy. Get up. Adesso.”
By the time Carmine was on his feet again, his broken jaw being cradled by his hand, Alberto’s attention was back on the front door of the house.
“Twenty seconds, Violet,” Alberto informed like he was breaking bread. “I have the knife already sharpened, dolcezza.”
Kaz’s brows drew together at his words, trying to understand what the man was getting at, but he didn’t have time to ponder it for long, not when Violet came running out of the house, frantic eyes on her father even as she stopped next to Kaz.
He didn’t think he had ever seen her look so torn.
But he didn’t reach for her … merely stood at her side. Whatever choice she made, he wasn’t going to force her hand either way.
“Violet,” Alberto said, his tone having softened as he offered his hand. “It’s time to leave.”
Her eyes shifted over the men, as though seeing them all for the first time. Kaz was sure that she would have tucked her head, walked away with them, and accepted whatever punishment her father saw fit for her relationship with him—at least until he felt her fingers slide against his, twining them as she held tight.
“I’m not leaving.”
Kaz was careful to keep his face neutral, though the surprise he felt internally was reflected on Alberto’s face as he turned to face his daughter, like he had never considered that she would defy him.
Alberto was still trying to maintain that calm demeanor though his eyes spoke a different story as he said, “Do not push me on this. Get in the car. Now.”
But even still, she remained next to Kaz, her hand in his.
She refused to move.
Not after he asked again, then asked once more.
One minute Alberto was content with merely asking, but in the next breath, all decorum fled as he snatched Violet by the arm, thick fingers digging into her flesh, enough to make her wince in pain as he attempted to draw her to his side.
Except, she had barely taken two steps before Kaz had his own gun in hand, the barrel pointed straight at one of the men in the state that he really shouldn’t pull a gun on.
He could feel everyone tense as they waited. A made man pulling a gun on their boss could potentially be a death sentence, but the enemy doing it?
He was practically asking to die.
“Let her go before me pulling this trigger is the last thing you see.”
Alberto wasn’t afraid, not that Kaz had expected him to be, but he thought he might have seen a touch of admiration in the man’s eyes. “If only you were Italian, my boy. Now, you would be wise to move that gun out of my face.”
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Kaz’s arm didn’t even twitch as he repeated himself, saying, “Let her go.”
When Alberto’s gaze shifted just slightly, Kaz was too late to see the fist coming his way. Blood filled his mouth almost instantly, and he could feel the sting of his split lip. He could hear Violet screaming, the sound of it felt like it was tearing him apart—he only belatedly realized it was his name she was yelling.
The hits still rained down on him, but Kaz no longer cared, swinging his arm, he brought the butt of his weapon across the man’s face. But he didn’t linger to see his good work, instead he headed to the street, walking into the center where the car was now trying to pass.
Even with the tinted glass, he could still make out Alberto Gallucci, Carmine on one side, Violet on the other.
“She walks away, or you don’t,” Kaz warned, aiming at the windshield, making sure Alberto could see just how serious he was. “And before your driver gets any great ideas, know that I can still kill you before he even makes contact.”
Kaz was so focused on the man that he didn’t hear the sirens, or see the flashing lights, not until they were upon him, three officers climbing out of a squad car with weapons drawn.
“Kazimir Markovic! Put down your weapon!”
Kaz kept his gun exactly where it was, but did lift his gaze just far enough to take in the officers. He didn’t recognize them, and doubted they were his father’s men, who could be bought off for the right price … so how did they know his name?
It dawned on him quite slowly at first as he took in the scene around him, realizing how it made him look. He was the only one standing there with a gun at that very moment, and as quickly as he had been surrounded just moments prior, the men had already climbed back into their cars.
This time, Kaz did smile.
He’d been fucking played.
“Markovic, we will not ask again! Drop your weapon and put your hands where we can see them!”
Turning that smile to Alberto, he didn’t take his eyes off the man as he did what he was told, placing his gun at his feet before holding his hands, palms out for them to see.
“This isn’t over, Gallucci. This won’t ever be over.”
He could almost see Alberto frown as his words penetrated, but Kaz lost sight of him as he was grabbed and shoved onto the hood of the car, his arms wrenched behind his back. He thought he heard Violet’s cries as one of the officers read him his rights; he could almost imagine he heard her pleading for him, but as he was forced up, and pushed toward the squad car, he knew he would never be able to get that sound out of his head.
Officer Barnes, from the name on his tag, had a hand to Kaz’s head and was about to push him down into the car when they all paused at the sight of Vera running out the house. At first, Kaz thought she was coming for him, but then he noticed her attention was on something past him.
And more, her curses and words weren’t spoken in English.
But Russian …
Kaz turned to look over his shoulder, trying to see who his sister was yelling at, but knew with a gut feeling who it would be.
It didn’t make sense otherwise.
How could they have known he and Violet were at Vera’s place at all?
There were only two people that knew where Kaz would go if he was in trouble, it had been that way since they were children, but only one of those two people did Kaz know would not give that information to anyone.
He didn’t know how he had his fingers dipped in this one, but Kaz didn’t doubt that his father was behind this.
He only got a glimpse of Vasily before he was being forced into the car, the door slammed shut after. Already, the fleet of cars that belonged to the Gallucci family were vanishing out of view.
Kaz didn’t have time to reflect on that, not when the officers were climbing in the car themselves, it was only moments later when they were pulling off.
“You’re lucky the boss’s daughter was there,” Barnes said from the front seat, glancing back at him. “He went easy on you for her sake.”
Boss? Kaz was trying to piece together what the man was saying when it clicked. The reason why he didn’t recognize them was because they worked for the opposite side.
They were on Alberto’s payroll.
Shit. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?
The panic must have shown in his face because the one driving laughed.
“Don’t worry, Markovic,” the officer said looking away from the rearview mirror as he pulled onto the interstate. “You’re not going to die tonight.”
Violet yanked her arm out of her father’s grasp, turning in the seat to stare out the rearview window. It killed her—killed her—to watch the police shove a handcuffed Kaz into the back of a police car. It wasn’t long before her view was obstructed by moving cars, and then their vehicle was taking a corner, leaving the scene behind.
She felt the hot tears crawl down her cheeks, her breaths coming out hard and fast with each one.
The man who had attacked Kaz—she hadn’t seen him rush in from the side until it was too late. She should have warned Kaz somehow.
“Turn around,” Alberto said, calm and seemingly happy.
Violet didn't listen.
Carmine was too busy holding his broken jaw, cursing in a mumbled way every so often, to care about his sister or his father.
The next box I hold will belong to his heart.
That’s what her father had said.
It was the only reason she came out of the house, even knowing she shouldn’t.
That fear—the terror—sent her running.
But it wasn't quite enough to make her go when her father demanded she should. She didn’t belong with her father, she wanted Kaz.
“Violet, turn around and sit,” Alberto said.
She still didn’t give him what he wanted.
Without warning, her father grabbed her arm and twisted, making pain shoot through her shoulder as he forced her to sit in the seat properly.
Alberto didn’t let her go, his fingernails digging into her skin.
Violet hissed. “Let me go.”
“There, that’s better,” Alberto said like she hadn’t uttered a thing.
“Daddy—”
For the first time since she had come out of the house, she saw a real anger flash in her father’s eyes and settle deep into the scowling lines of his face. “Do not call me that like you want to find some sympathetic part in me. You are twenty-one, not a child. You know how to follow my rules. And I will no longer keep treating you with the kid gloves I have in the past, Violet. You …”
Violet blinked, feeling another swell of tears fall from the corners of her eyes. “What?”
“You couldn’t have hurt me more—betrayed me more—than how you did with that Russian.”
“Kaz.”
Alberto didn’t give a thing away when he asked, “What?”
“He is not the Russian, his name is Kazimir.”
“You are being foolish,” Alberto spat. “A foolish, stupid girl who spread her legs for a pretty man and nothing more.”
He could have slapped her and it would have felt better.
Violet refused to show how his words cut her. “Then why not leave me to be with him, huh? If I shamed you so much, why not let me go and be the whore you clearly think I am?”
Stay, she had wanted to say. Stay with Kaz.
A man who loved her.
Who would protect her at all cost.
Who never treated her like her father did.
“Because you are not his,” her father said sharply, his fingers digging in harder on her arm. “You are mine.”
“I’m not,” Violet whispered. “Not after this.”
Alberto’s gaze narrowed, but he finally let her go. “Fix your face.”
She didn’t make a move to do what he said, letting her tears stain her cheeks even more.
Her father waved a hand at the driver. “Chris, take us around to the Kitchen.”
<
br /> The driver glanced at Alberto in the rearview mirror. “Boss?”
“The Kitchen—to the Black Hall,” Alberto demanded.
Violet didn't know what her father was talking about, but it couldn’t be good considering even Carmine had lifted his head and was staring at Alberto like the man had grown a second head.
“What?” her brother mumbled.
“Make it fast,” Alberto said, never taking his gaze off Violet.
What was going on?
Violet watched streets fly by and eventually become more familiar, until they were in the bowels of Hell’s Kitchen and coming to a stop at what looked like a rundown, decrepit building that might, at one time, have been an apartment building.
“Stay in the car, I do not need you for this,” Alberto told the driver, and then Carmine. He grabbed Violet’s arm, pulling her with him as he exited the back of the car. “Keep quiet, and keep up, darling.”
She didn’t like how he’d used that endearment with just a hint of sarcasm and condescension, but chose to do as he said.
At that point, it wasn’t like Violet had much of a damn choice.
It wasn’t long after they entered the shamble of a building before Violet figured out why her father had called it Black Hall. Darkness enveloped the entire place but when a small, flickering light bulb was turned on, black halls stared back at her from every direction.
Alberto pulled her along, opening a door to another set of halls, and a staircase. Again, the place was black all over, even with the bit of light.
Violet couldn’t understand why they would paint the place black like it was, and it almost felt like the walls were fucking closing in on her because it seemed so small. Her heart rate picked up, thundering. Anxiety simmered through her bloodstream.
“What—”
“Shut up,” Alberto said.
Violet snapped her mouth shut, letting her father continue to drag her along like she was a doll and nothing more. The more she breathed in the air of the building, the sicker she felt. It stunk with a musky, earthy tone, but also with something she couldn’t describe. Something that smelled like rotting meat and garbage.
Finally, her father pushed open a door at the end of yet another long, small black hallway. His hand found her shoulders, and he shoved, pushing her inside first.