by Bethany-Kris
Violet spun on her heel to face her father, and he slammed the door shut, and flicked on another tiny light bulb that barely did the job of lighting the small space.
All over again, the walls seemed to close in on Violet.
“You never liked the dark when you were a child,” Alberto said, taking one step away from the door.
Violet forced her panic down, keeping her gaze on her father and not the black walls surrounding her. “I’m not a child now.”
“Clearly. But I’m not quite sure what to think of you now, either. A lady doesn’t seem to fit what with your recent behavior. No lady would go on acting as you did with that Russian.”
She beat down the urge to correct Alberto again.
“Why am I here?” Violet chanced a look at the dark walls, wishing the room was bigger. She didn’t like small spaces, either. “And what is this place?”
Alberto smiled, but it came off cold.
She had no doubt he meant for it to.
“This, Violet, is the Black Hall. And I wanted to show you it.”
That answered nothing.
“Why? To frighten me with it because it’s small and dark?”
Alberto chuckled, waving a finger at her. “Smart, but it’s actually much bigger than you think. And there are chains on every exit door. The walls are so thick that no one can be heard screaming when they’re brought here, and even better, no one would say a thing if they were heard. But no, that isn’t why I brought you here.”
Violet clenched her fists at her sides, confused and wary. “I don’t understand.”
“All it takes is a room like this, and a few days to ruin a man’s mind.”
“So?”
“I want you to take a good look around you right now, imagine it being cold, dark, and small. Then consider the only light you get is when someone comes in here to beat you at least once a day, but sometimes twice if they’re in the neighborhood.”
Violet backed up a foot, wanting to be further away from her father. She didn’t know this man at all—he was not who she knew.
“Careful,” Alberto said when Violet’s back almost hit the wall. “Don’t touch, it’s probably still wet.”
She didn't look over her shoulder, but did ask, “With what?”
“Take a guess.”
“No.”
Alberto shrugged. “Your mind will do it for you. And believe me, that is more than enough.”
It already had, but Violet refused to even go there. This was just another one of her father’s games—a head game to mess with her mind, and trick her into compliance.
She didn't want it to work but she wanted out of this fucking building.
“I want to go home,” Violet said.
“Soon,” Alberto promised. He waved a hand high, gesturing at the room, but maybe he meant the building. “I wanted you to see, Violet.”
“See what?”
“What I will do to Kazimir Markovic before I kill him, should he ever put his hands on you again.”
With guards on either side of him, hands on their guns as though they had to worry what Kaz’s next move would be, he was walked down the hallway, bypassing a number of cells, where inmates were shouting, or otherwise asleep. Though smaller and far younger than a number of the men that made up the block he was housed in, no one bothered him.
While his name felt like a burden sometimes, this was not one of them.
As they continued on, they didn’t stop at the first door to the left where the large room was where the inmates were allowed visitation, but kept going, finally stopping at another door where Kaz’s guard to the left had to look up at the camera in the corner of the wall before a buzz could be heard, and they were allowed inside.
Through there, and the corridor adjacent to it, Kaz’s shackles were finally unlocked, giving him the chance to rotate his wrists, after having the metal rubbing against them for so long. His guards stepped to the side, but one said, “You got ten minutes,” before he gave the door opposite him a push, and gestured for Kaz to walk outside.
Breathing in the fresh air, Kaz dug into the pocket of his uniform for his cigarettes, plucking one from the pack then bringing it up to his lips.
“Those things are going to kill you, Kazimir.”
He turned slightly, just enough that he could see Vasily waiting for him, standing out of view of the cameras that lined the roof—or maybe he had someone to shift the angle for the time being.
“Maybe so,” Kaz said with a shrug. “But it could be worse.”
Vasily’s brows lifted as he said, “Oh? How so?”
“You could be standing at my back.”
Kaz almost grinned as Vasily’s humor fled. He’d had enough time in the thirty days he had already been locked inside to think on just how he had ended up here. The right people could have been easily bought off in a matter of days for a weapon’s charge.
And yet, nothing.
Kaz had no choice but to take the deal they offered, knowing that because he already had a felony on his record, he could have been facing a number of years behind bars, as opposed to just the six months he ended up with.
But six months in a cell was still fucking torture for him.
“You came here for a reason, Vasily,” Kaz said, taking a drag from his cigarette. “What do you want?”
“I’m offering you a chance for you to move on once you’re out—to focus on what’s important. If you want it, your position will still be yours, and there will be no bad blood between us and the Galluccis. Alberto is willing to let you be free.”
Laughing without humor, he shook his head. “And what makes you think I give a fuck what Alberto Gallucci is willing to give me?”
“Kazimir—”
“Understand something. The second you arranged this,” Kaz said gesturing to the number stitched on his uniform, “was the very second you were dead to me. Did you think you were punishing me? Sticking me in here for a few months? Was this supposed to be my lesson?”
“Your actions have consequences, Kazimir—whether you like it or not,” Vasily retorted, that familiar fire entering his words. “You are not above my rules, boy, or have you forgotten your place? This was nothing new. Playing the victim will get you nowhere.”
“Is that what you think this is?” Kaz asked. “Me playing the victim?”
“No, I think you’re acting like a child that got his favorite toy taken away.”
It took great focus to keep his emotions in check, but Kaz had had a full month to prepare for this face-to-face, and he wasn’t ready to tip his hand just yet.
“I honestly believe that’s what you think, too. Violet was never a toy. She wasn’t a fucking possession that I fucked around with when I was in the mood. She meant something to me.”
“Meant?” Vasily questioned. “Does she not mean anything to you now?”
“Why did you come here, Vasily?”
“Is it such a foreign concept that a father would want to check on his son?”
Kaz smirked. “Only when that father was the one that did it to him.” Taking one last drag from his cigarette, he flicked the butt across the yard, watching it skip along the pebbles before settling. “You’re a fan of your warnings, no?” Kaz asked as he looked back to his father. “Here’s one for you. When you looked into the abyss, it didn’t stare back—it winked.”
Vasily shook his head. “What does that mean?”
Kaz tapped his throat on either side with two fingers, smiling even as Vasily glared. “Watch your back.”
Leaving him standing there, Kaz headed back into the building, holding his arms out so the cuffs could be put back on him, and he could be taken back to his cell. He didn’t doubt that he had gotten his point across.
Besides the meeting with his father, the rest of his night was rather uneventful, much of it spent counting down the minutes, first until dinner was over, then showers, and finally, when it was lights out.
Then there was always that hour in b
etween that felt like it took the longest, that the money he’d been shelling out ultimately meant nothing. But just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard footsteps, then saw an arm appear in front of the bars, slipping the device through them.
Kaz had the small cell phone in his hand, dialing the only number added as a contact inside before the guard could even walk off.
His heart beating fast, his mind in shambles, he waited, listening to each ring like it would be the last, and then finally, after the fourth ring, the call connected.
The voice was soft, tentative, almost afraid, but the sound of it was enough to make him feel like he could breathe again. “Kaz?”
Smiling, he rested his head against the cinderblock wall, closing his eyes as he said, “It’s good to hear your voice, krasivaya.”
Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to three very young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, a snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a spouse calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something ... when she can find the time.
Find Bethany-Kris at:
Her website,
or on Facebook,
on her blog,
or on Twitter - @BethanyKris.
Sign up to Bethany-Kris’s New Release Newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/bf9lzD
With a degree in Creative Writing, London Miller has turned pen to paper, creating riveting fictional worlds where the bad guys are sometimes the good guys. Her debut novel, In the Beginning, is the first in the Volkov Bratva Series.
She currently resides in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and two puppies, where she drinks far too much Sprite, and spends her nights writing.
Find London at:
Her website,
or on Facebook,
or on Twitter - @LMAuthor.
Copyright © 2016 by Bethany-Kris and London Miller. All Rights Reserved.
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted material is illegal and punishable by law. No parts of this work may be reproduced, copied, used, or printed without expressed written consent from the publisher/author. Exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in reviews.
eISBN 13: 978-1-988197-15-9
Editor: Nina S. Gooden
Proofreaders: Eli P. & Tesrin A.
Cover Artwork © London Miller
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations, corporations, locales and so forth are a product of the author’s imagination, or if real, used fictitiously. Any resemblance to a person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
