Page 119 of Where the Wind Whispers

“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.