by Bethany-Kris
Anastasya didn’t react, her nap uninterrupted.
So Alberto stayed like that. Holding the baby while she slept, talking to her, and then when she finally awoke, he opened the drawer in his desk and pulled out one of the few premade bottles of formula he had picked up for her. He fed her then changed her dirty diaper from the supplies he’d put in the same drawer.
Wide awake, the baby’s gray eyes stared at him in amazement.
“Hello,” he said softly, “I’m your grandpapa, child.”
The baby smacked her little pink lips, a smile forming.
This could have been different, he knew.
This whole situation could have been better.
If only …
Alberto sighed, reaching over to grab his phone off the desk. Putting it on speaker, he dialed the number for Francis, waiting for the younger man to pick up.
All too soon, Francis did, and Alberto said, “Find my son and tell him he’s needed.”
“Carmine is—”
“I’m aware he’s in a bad state; do as I asked.”
Carmine, as he usually did, made his father wait even after he’d been given an order to appear. Hours, actually. Alberto allowed it to pass, if only because his son was injured, and he had little desire to listen to the boy whine about it.
When Carmine did finally darken the office’s doorway, he passed the child his father was holding a look, recognition drifting over his face. “Tell me you didn’t take the Russian’s child.”
Alberto handed the now sleeping baby over to her uncle. He hadn’t made many people aware of his entire plans—Carmine was one of those people who did not know. “I made a promise.”
Carmine barely passed the baby a glance. A new father himself, Alberto thought Carmine might have some affection for the newborn, but he didn’t seem to care.
That was fine.
He only had to do his job, after all.
“Take her to the airport. All the information is in this folder,” Alberto said, digging through his desk. He found what he needed, a small folder filled with documents of a new identity for Anastasya. “Katie is waiting; she will take her for the first leg of the trip.”
Carmine nodded, taking the documents Alberto handed over.
He was a monster, to be sure.
He was angry.
He hurt.
But he’d harmed a child once, nearly killed an innocent boy with a bomb he had ordered to be set. And if not for that bomb, if not for his choices all those many long years ago, this all could have been so different.
Alberto knew that too well.
And so while he would take his daughter’s child from her, as he had promised to do, and while he would kill her husband so that she could finally understand the full consequences of her actions, he would never end the life of an innocent child.
It might have seemed like that was his plan—he was sure Violet would go on after all that had happened thinking her baby was dead by her father’s hand.
But no …
After all, she only needed to think it was true.
The pain was the very same.
It was time to finish out his promises.
Alberto Gallucci always kept his word.
“Where’s my daughter?” Kaz demanded the second the call connected.
Alberto’s laughter felt like nails on a chalkboard. “How does it feel, hmm?”
“Do not fuck with me.”
“I’d like an answer to my question,” Alberto said, amusement dripping from his tone. He was enjoying this—whether the kidnapping or Kaz’s panic—the Italian was thrilled.
“What question?”
“How does it feel to lose? How does it feel, after coming this far, to still be one step behind? I would be tired if I were you, Russian.”
Kaz’s fingers tightened so hard around the device in his hand that he feared he would shatter it before they’d even finished the call. Every step he’d made … it had all been to avoid this.
The moment when his plan had to change …
The moment when he felt a slice of fear through his gut at how this could end …
Hadn’t this been what he meant to prevent—the very thing he’d hoped to avoid?
His concentration wasn’t meant to be lacking, especially with what he intended to do, and the only way he could ensure that there wouldn’t be a problem for him was if he knew that Violet and Anastasya were safe. Alfie had already sent Vera and Irina out of the country.
One last step.
It was supposed to be one last step.
Tamping down the anxiety he felt, Kaz asked the one question he hoped to never have to. “What do you want?”
“She’s a beautiful girl, you know. Looks just like her mother, and like you, unfortunately. Babies, such precious gifts. It hurts when they grow up.”
Kaz was losing his patience. “Just tell me what the fuck you want.”
“A life for a life seems fitting.”
Kaz didn’t have a single clue what he was going to do, or even how he was going to win this one, but there was still no hesitation as he said, “Done.” There was nothing he wouldn’t give to have his daughter back.
His own life be damned.
“Time and a place, Gallucci.”
Alberto’s response was immediate. “I’ll see you where we first met all those years ago.”
Three beeps in his ear told him the Italian had hung up, leaving him standing there with his phone in hand as he resisted the urge to break it, the weight of his decision bearing down on him. It was easy, at the moment, to agree. It wasn’t about him, he reasoned.
It was about his daughter.
His wife.
Kaz had vowed to protect them—to do everything in his power to make sure they stayed that way. The good life was what he had promised them, and he still planned to deliver.
Violet wasn’t going to be happy with what he would say, but it had to be done.
For her and Anastasya.
It had to be done.
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 Alb
erto 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.”
