by Bethany-Kris
She still didn’t understand.
“How would Vasily have made a difference?”
Kaz spat out another bitter laugh. “Because he would have made a different choice. See, I had a choice today—you, my child, or my brother. Do you get it yet? Do you understand the choice I had to make?”
Violet just blinked, feeling so unsteady on her feet.
Like the floor was about the swallow her whole.
“My father.”
It didn’t even come out as a question.
He hadn’t explained to her what had come before the shooting, or why it occurred. There was really no time, and there were too many people around listening and wanting information.
Now … now, she understood.
“He made you choose,” Violet whispered.
Kaz looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “My mother—what’s she thinking—is right. Vasily wouldn’t have made the choice I did. No matter how much he loved his wife, she could be replaced with another. One of his daughters? Fuck, he has three. He can afford to lose one. But one of his men—his sons? Even the one who disobeyed him, shamed him … no, he would have never made that choice.”
Violet let out a shaky breath. “It’s ok—”
“Don’t. It’s not.”
“You’re not Vasily.”
He nodded, though it looked a little sardonic with the way he sneered. “You’re right, I’m not. Because I’m that fucking selfish, yes? I couldn’t pick my wife because I can't live without her, and I didn’t pick my daughter because I couldn’t stand the thought of living with you knowing what I’d done. So I picked someone else—even if I love him, too—because that was the easy way out. And she ...”
Kaz choked out another laugh, waving wildly again at the doors. “She doesn’t understand because I wouldn’t ever say these things to her to explain. I would never want to make her understand just how much of a bastard her husband really was; I wouldn’t want her to feel the way I feel right now.”
“Kaz …”
Violet saw the way his hands shook, and his face hardened, though pain filled his gaze. She stepped forward, close enough to grab him and force him to stop moving; close enough to hug him tight, so tightly that her arms ached. She just wanted to hold him together.
Because that was what was happening …
He was falling apart.
She felt his hands find her sides, squeezing painfully hard, but she didn’t say a thing or ask him to stop.
When his face buried into her shoulder, his words and sounds muffled from the thick fabric of her ruined, bloodstained coat, Violet shivered.
Not because he was close … not because he had calmed a bit.
No, because he used her, the closeness, the elevator, and the privacy to scream, letting her coat muffle a shout filled with so much rage and agony. She held on to him tighter, wrapping one arm all the way around his back and letting her other hand tangle into his hair to weave within the strands.
She had never hated her father more than she did at that moment. Alberto was still, in a way, doing what he had promised. Violet was stuck, not quite knowing what to do or how to help her husband when he was so clearly struggling to maintain control over the events happening around them.
It was killing him, and if it didn’t, it eventually would.
Violet would be the one watching all the while.
Her heart hurt.
“You made the right choice,” Violet told Kaz.
For him, he had.
His choices didn’t have to reflect what others would have decided.
“Should I tell Ruslan that, too, yes?”
Violet didn’t respond.
She didn’t know how to.
Five minutes later, Violet walked out the elevator with her husband like nothing had happened. They looked no different than they had when they’d gone in, dry-eyed and expressionless masks firmly back in place.
What else could they do?
He would do anything for her. How many more times did he have to prove it?
She could do this for him.
Hours crept by as Kaz remained at his brother’s bedside. Men came and went, and after a few last reassurances from Rus’ doctors, Kaz had finally been able to convince Irina and the girls to leave. Alfie had reassured him with a clap on the shoulder that he would take care of them, even convincing Violet that she and the baby needed to come as well.
Now, he was alone, left with the guilt of the choice he’d made.
And that guilt, that all-consuming emotion, was only made worse because he still didn’t regret the decision he made, not as he was hearing the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor connected to Rus.
How many times had he thought Rus was infallible?
This wasn’t the first time Rus had been shot, not even the second, and more damage had been done to his body than anyone could fathom—what was once more? The question had plagued him relentlessly as he raced across the city and even when he slammed on the brakes and hopped out of his car.
That fear …
He wondered if Rus had felt the same when he found him all those months ago, a breath away from death. Did he feel as helpless as Kaz felt when he’d come upon his body, his blood staining the asphalt, thin lines of red streaking down the street?
But even seeing him there, he knew he would have made the same choice because hearing Anastasya’s wails and even Violet’s cries had felt like music to his ears.
They were alive.
And selfishly, that was all that had mattered to him then.
Now, knowing that Rus would be okay and that infection was all they had to worry about while he healed, Kaz allowed himself to feel the guilt of his actions and the ramifications of his choice.
Once Rus woke up, he would have to explain what had happened, and he wasn’t looking forward to his brother’s reaction.
“Sir!”
Kaz glanced up a second before Nathaniel—the man who ran Rus’ club, and his sometimes lover—appeared in the doorway, his gaze barely landing on Kaz before he was looking for Rus.
Four years Kaz had known the man, and not once had he ever seen such a broken expression on the man’s face. He had always been so careful, Rus too really, never showing anything as to their relationship because of how others would react.
Especially Vasily.
Had he known about Nathaniel, Vasily would have made it a point to make an example out of him.
For one unguarded moment, Nathaniel looked at Rus the way Kaz knew he looked at Violet. Kaz didn’t interrupt, giving the man as much privacy as he could by turning away, though he did not intend to leave his seat.
A second, maybe two, passed before Nathaniel cleared his throat. “How is he?”
When Kaz looked back, all traces of emotion were gone from his expression. They weren’t the only ones feeling the pressure of battles both won and lost. “Stable. He’s got at least another week in here. They want to make sure he stays clear of infection.”
Nathaniel dug his hands into his pockets, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “You didn’t have to call me.”
Kaz shrugged, patting his pockets for the pack of cigarettes he had on him. “I would like to think that if the positions were reversed, he would make sure Violet was here.”
“It’s not—”
“No worries,” Kaz said before the other man could finish, getting to his feet. “Your secret has always been safe with me. I need a smoke, so I’ll give you some time. There are a few of my men out here already, but anybody who even looks remotely Italian tries to come in this room, you have my blessing.”
He had given his men the same order.
Taking the elevator down to the front entrance of the hospital, he stepped out the door, immediately stepping over to his left where the lights couldn’t reach. When he got that first big inhale, burning nicotine saturating his lungs, he felt a bit of that pressure inside his head dissipate.
A plan.
That w
as what he needed.
Until now, he had been playing defense, waiting for the moment Alberto made a move against him to strike out. Now, he needed to take a page out of his father-in-law’s book and hit him where it hurt.
And he didn’t have to hurt him, not really. He just needed Alberto to come out of hiding, to show his face once more to give Kaz the opportunity to end this once and for all.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been out there with his cigarette dangling from his lips when a taxi braked to a sudden stop in front of the hospital, and a girl in a modest black dress scrambled out of the back, practically throwing a twenty at the driver as she started for the entrance.
It wasn’t until she got to the light did Kaz actually recognize her.
Kira …
Rus’ something.
He still wasn’t sure how all this shit worked. “Hey.”
Kira slowed, blinking and squinting at him until he came back toward the building. “Kaz, hey.”
“I would have called,” he said, walking with her into the building and toward the bank of elevators. “But I didn’t know how to contact you.”
“Right, yeah, I know. Nate called, so it’s all good.”
Despite the flippant way she’d said that, Kira looked nervous about something. It could have been worrying about Rus, but watching her, he didn’t think that was it at all.
“Something wrong?”
She looked up at him with wide eyes. “It’s just been a long night.”
Yeah.
He understood that all too well.
Violet had just gotten Anastasya laid down in bed when the shouts started from down below. Then the slamming doors followed.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
One right after the other.
She could distinguish her husband’s shouts, though she couldn’t understand what he was saying, given his rage spilled over in Russian and she wasn’t quite that good with the language yet.
Especially not when he was speaking fast, loud, and angry.
Violet, knowing she should probably stay out of Kaz’s way for whatever was happening, decided against her inner voice and quickly made her way down the hall and then the stairs to the ground floor. She didn’t want yelling and nonsense in the house where Anastasya was sleeping.
Kaz had been holed up in his office for a great deal of the day, and then he’d just left without much of an explanation.
She didn’t even hear him when he got home because she was busy with the baby.
Unless he’d just gotten home.
Violet just rounded the corner in the bottom hallway that led to the main entrance when something crashed—glass shattered, more Russian spewed from her husband, and someone else groaned.
Jesus Christ.
What was going on?
Violet only caught sight of a man being shoved out the front door before Kaz shouted something at him. Then he slammed the door with yet another loud bang.
“Kaz!”
Her husband barely reacted to her scolding.
In fact, he didn’t even make eye contact with her before he was brushing past her in the entryway and heading back the way he had come—from his office, obviously.
Violet hurried behind, now deciding that she wouldn’t let him figure it out and calm down. Something was wrong, although if she were honest, things had been wrong for a while.
And getting worse by the day.
She knew her father’s games and the violence was wearing on Kaz.
She saw it in his attitude and the way he was snappier than usual. To anyone, really. She was not an exception to the rule, though he did temper his reactions whenever it was just him and her alone. In those moments, he was almost back to his normal, relaxed self.
Or as much as he could be.
But his behavior was showing his stress, too.
His frustration led him out of the house more often than he was in it. He missed dinners, a doctor’s appointment for the baby, and brushed off those who only wanted to help.
And he did all of this with the response that he had shit under control.
Violet didn't think Kaz did—not at all.
She thought he was losing control slowly, that he felt like he was behind in whatever game her father was playing, and that he would wind up the loser. He probably didn’t know what was going to happen next, or where Alberto’s next play was going to come from.
She understood why he was behaving like he was.
She just didn’t know how to help him.
Therein was the difference.
“Kaz, wait,” Violet yelled at his back as he took a right and headed up the stairs.
“Not tonight, Violet.”
“Kaz!”
“Zatknis’!”
Violet stumbled on the bottom step, stunned that he’d told her to shut up without so much as a moment’s hesitation. “Kazimir!”
“Not tonight, Violet. Fuck.”
Her hand tightened hard around the wooden banister, her anger rising at his cold dismissal. Yet all she saw as he rounded the top of the stairs was his back before he disappeared.
It took all of three seconds for the shock to wear off before Violet’s anger took hold again, and she flew up the stairs, her blood rushing in her ears. She could count on one hand the number of times her husband had treated her like he just had—one time, only tonight. They had their occasional spats, ridiculous arguments that were settled before either of them were even in bed sleeping the same night.
This was not the same.
Sure, she understood very well that this was nothing more than a by-product of the situation they were currently in. Kaz’s stress was manifesting in the worst way—he likely felt as if he was failing her, himself, and their family.
She knew all of this.
It didn’t stop her from feeling that bubbling rage as she shouted his name once more, and a slamming door answered her back.
Once she was on the second-floor wing, she realized Kaz had disappeared into the main bathroom, down the hall from his office. She briefly considered going to their bedroom, letting him figure his shit out, and then waiting for him to come to her.
But pride was a bitch.
Violet wasn’t about to allow this evening to happen again. Not the business in the house or the fighting while the baby slept. Surely not his rejections or his horrible fucking behavior.
It just wasn’t going to continue.
Simple as that.
She found the bathroom door locked when she tried to turn the knob. Behind the door, she heard cursing, then the exhaust fan turning on before the sound of rushing water followed. The shower had been turned on.
Violet took a breath, willing her emotions to calm.
It would do neither her nor him no good to fight right now.
It was not the time for that.
They couldn’t afford to be in a situation where they were angry with one another.
“Kaz,” Violet said outside of the door, “please let me in.”
“Go to bed.”
That was it. That was all he offered.
Violet’s irritation spilled over as she knocked harder on the door than was necessary. “Open up, now.”
Kaz didn’t bother to respond at all that time. In fact, she heard the water begin to pour down a bit heavier than before, telling her that he had likely changed the settings in the large stand-up shower to drown her out.
Fucking ass—
Violet stopped that thought from going any further, knowing if she did, then her father would win. She had no doubt in her mind that this was all a part of his stupid games. Alberto probably wanted Kaz and Violet in situations where they had no one to turn to but each other, and that would also force them against each other should the desire arise.
He was a fucking bastard like that.
And why wouldn’t he want it to happen?
Why wouldn’t he want Violet to be distanced from her husband, or vice-versa?
“Last ti
me I’m going to ask, Kaz,” Violet said softly, knowing he probably couldn’t even hear her now. “Let me in.”
Again, she got nothing.
Although she wasn’t surprised at his non-response.
She wasn’t sure if Kaz honestly believed the locked door would stop her, but Violet was far from stupid. She made her way down to their master bedroom, grabbed one of the many items from her vanity, and headed back to the bathroom.
Sticking the long, extra-strong bobby pin into the small hole on the doorknob, Violet twisted it in just the right spot, turning the knob, and felt the door unlock under her handling.
Her husband wasn’t the only one who could pick a lock.
To be fair, he had a great deal more talent than her simple trick.
Violet tossed the bobby pin aside as soon as she had the bathroom door open and stepped inside. Already, the heat from the shower had started to fog the space.
Jesus.
How hot did he have the water turned on?
Violet didn’t focus on that for long …
Not when she could clearly see the pain her husband was in behind the sliding shower glass doors.
With his back to the brown tiles, Kaz had his head tilted back, his hands covering his face, and the hot stream of water pouring down on him. It looked like every single muscle in his body was a live wire—taut as hell and ready to snap. He trembled all over, from his legs to his strong arms, the ink covering his body coming off sharper in color because it was wet.
Whether he was shaking from his anger, or something else, Violet didn’t know.
Without her permission, her body moved forward, closer to Kaz.
Softly, she said his name.
He didn’t hear her.
She could hear him, though, even over the exhaust fan and the rushing torrent of water, behind the glass, making his noise muffled … he was shouting behind his hands. Pure rage spilling from his heart and out his mouth, disappearing into his own hands and washing down the drain.
How many times had he found himself doing this very thing over the last little while? Did he expel all of his emotions like this—hidden and behind closed doors—because he didn’t want her to see or know?
