Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(21)

“When are you coming back?”

In the time they had been in Chicago, whenever he had left to attend to business with Konstantin, she had never asked that. Perhaps it had been an unspoken rule in her household not to ask questions that wouldn’t be answered, so for her to be asking him this now … it told him exactly how freaked out she was.

“I’ll be there within the hour. Just hang tight.”

He hung up before she could give an answer, the grip on his phone tightening as he looked at Konstantin. “It’s time to move.”





The leaves could change colors, time could transcend all things, but Vasily Markovic knew that life was a funny thing—which was why he was exiting his car at the crack of dawn and heading for the graveyard a few blocks down.

How often had he passed this very one, barely sparing it a glance as he continued, the visual of it fading to the back of his mind, but today, he was forced to view it again … for the same reason he had stepped foot in one all those years ago.

From what he could see, Vasily was alone in the graveyard, but one glance at his watch let him know that he wouldn’t be this way for long.

Finding a bench off the pathway, he took a seat, gazing out toward the tombstones a short distance away. What would his say once he was buried?

And more, who would mourn?

Not his children, he knew. He had loved them and given them the world and anything they could have possibly wanted, yet they still betrayed him at every turn, both publicly and privately.

For the longest time, he had forgiven their mistakes and made allowances for things that his own father would have killed him for, but they were not grateful for this.

Especially not Kazimir.

His youngest son had been his legacy, the person who would carry on their name and would one day sit in Vasily’s seat. He’d spent years grooming him, steering him to become the perfect soldier, but Kazimir had other plans.

He rebelled, even when there was nothing to rebel against, simply because he could. It was a trait of his, one that had gone unchecked for years because Vasily had no mind to worry about such things.

Perhaps that was why the blame for Kazimir’s recent actions could be laid at his feet.

He should have quelled the boy’s curiosity in the girl back when he still could have. Or at the very least, he should have used a firmer hand with him.

But at the moment, he didn’t have time to ponder what should have been—he could only change the present.

And if Kazimir thought his actions would go unchecked, perhaps it was time for another lesson.

“Your son has certainly caused enough issues, Vasily,” said Alberto Gallucci as he entered the graveyard, his gaze straying to Vasily.

“Yet your daughter is at the center of them all,” Vasily said as the man drew closer. “So where does the blame really lie?”

Alberto didn’t offer a response to that. “You called me for a meeting, Markovic. Let’s not waste time.”

“They’re in Chicago,” Vasily began, not sure what all the man knew or didn’t, “with former associates of mine.”

“Former?”

“There was a bit of a misunderstanding.” That was all he was willing to offer. There was no need to tell him that Vasily had tried to have the entirety of the Boykov family executed. “Kazimir reached out to them knowing that should I ever step foot in that city, there is a price on my head.”

“Sounds unfortunate … for you.”

On any other occasion, the flippant way in which Alberto responded would have made Vasily furious, but for now, he tempered his reaction and forced a smile. “But while my men and I have very familiar faces, yours do not.”

Alberto stood a little straighter, and Vasily could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

Before he could offer input, Vasily went on. “I have an address. The only thing left is for someone to offer them a ride home.”

Whether voluntary or not, if he had to drag Kazimir’s ass back in pieces, he would, and he wouldn’t like the way it was done.

“What you choose to do with your daughter is no business of mine, but should you choose to take them, let no harm come to my son.” He wanted that privilege for himself.

“Send me the address. I’ll see it done.”

As quickly as Alberto had entered the cemetery, he was ready to leave, but Vasily wasn’t done yet.

“Word of caution, comrade. For whatever reason, my son thinks himself in love with your daughter. We took her from him once, but it won’t be so easy again. I don’t doubt for a second that he will kill to keep her, so be prepared to lose a number of your men.”

“Yet you still expect no harm to come to that boy of yours.”

Vasily glanced down at his hand to the spider that decorated his flesh. “My son won’t see the end of winter.”





From the moment Violet had ended the phone call with Vasily Markovic the week before, she couldn’t shake the nerves putting her on a steep edge.

Maybe that was why when a soft knock interrupted the quiet townhouse, Violet damn near jumped out of her skin. No one ever seemed to knock when they visited, instead opting to walk right in. It took Violet a little bit of getting used to, but she had almost come to expect it.

Knocking, on the other hand, not so much.