Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(43)

Since he lacked the stars that would mark him as a Captain in the Bratva, Kaz’s words were true. He was above him in ranking—and truthfully, defying the orders of any Vor was punishable by death.

“You’re a dead man,” he growled back, expression tight.

If anything, Kaz had to respect the man’s loyalty. “By the time I leave this room, Igor, I won’t be the one with a target on my back. Pick a side but choose wisely.”

“Fuck you.”

Unbidden, Kaz laughed. “Fuck me? Are you sure about that?”

That unwavering defiance was steady in his eyes, and Kaz could see the answer in the man’s eyes, even as he opened his mouth. His lips were just drawing back, about to form another ‘f,’ but before he could utter the remark again, Kaz pulled the gun from his waist and pressed the barrel to the man’s head.

Igor only had the chance to widen his eyes; that arrogance disappeared as fear took its place, but before he could even think to do anything about it, Kaz had pulled the trigger. The force of the bullet threw him from his seat. His body crumpled to the floor, even as everyone else stood, looking at Kaz in surprise.

But Kaz merely put his gun away, pulled the heavy chair at the head of the table out, and sank into it.

It was far more of a declaration than anything he could have possibly said.

“Seventeen years ago, my uncle, your Pakhan,” Kaz started, pointing at each of the men in the room, “was gunned down in cold blood by that man there.”

They all looked at Christian then, who was conscious enough to realize he was in enemy territory and in a room with said enemies. What little hope he might have had that he would survive this day and night fled.

“He was given the orders by Alberto Gallucci.”

“Then he’s a f*cking dead man,” Boris proclaimed from his spot at the table. Back when Gavrill was still around the two had always worked closely. Besides Rus, Kaz didn’t doubt that Boris would gladly go to war for Gavrill’s death.

“Gallucci will answer for his part in due time, but someone else needs to answer first.”

“Who?” someone else called out.

“Vasily. He sanctioned the hit. He gave the orders and promised no vengeance for the death.”

Silence met his declaration, disbelief heavy in the air. He knew the questions they were probably asking themselves … Why? What reason would justify Vasily to have his brother killed?

And the most important …

Why should they trust his word for it?

“How long has it been since I was released from jail on charges we all know should have easily been thrown out? In that time, has my father not been hounding every single one of you to find me? To bring me back so he can teach me a lesson … yet here I am with company,” he said, gesturing at Rus, Kolya, and Christian, “and he’s nowhere to be found. On the day I’m here to show proof of his aid in helping our f*cking enemies, he disappears.”

It would have been just as easy for him to have Christian repeat back everything he had told him, and probably more, but he wanted to bring their doubts to the forefront first. Every single one of them had had a suspicion about Vasily ever since the man became the boss, but the fear of what Vasily might have done prevented them from ever stepping forward.

Now, they had the freedom, and Kaz had merely spun the web.

As he had told Igor, Kaz said, “Call him, see if he answers. What reason would he have not to?”

Except, now, Kaz suspected with some certainty that his father knew he was back in the city. And as smart as he was, he had to know only one thing would drag him back to a city where he was being hunted.

Boris dug his phone out of his pocket, dialing the number and putting it on speaker before laying the device on the table.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times, but then the phone went to voice mail.

Someone else called ... then a third ... even a fourth, yet not once did Vasily answer the phone.

His non-answer told them everything they needed to know.

One by one, each of the men sank back into their chairs, turning to face him. Kaz didn’t allow himself to revel in it … not yet.

There was still too much work to do.

“For now,” he declared, “the Italians live. Vasily is the priority.”

“And what about him?” Boris asked, gesturing with a tilt of his head to Christian.

“I’m sure we can find something fun to do with him.”

Perhaps they could cut off his ears, remove his eyes, and rip his tongue from his mouth to mail off as gifts to Alberto.

Hear no evil … Speak no evil … See no evil.

It felt appropriate.

“And make no mistake,” Kaz went on, “the Italians will answer for their part in Gavrill’s death, but Violet is off-limits to you. If that is a problem for anyone in this room, I will gladly send you on your way right behind Igor. Do not doubt me on this.”

Silence followed.

“Glad we’re in agreement. Now,” Kaz said, folding his hands on the table, “what do you have for me?”

A heartbeat or maybe two later, envelopes were lifted from pockets and set on the table before him.





“Pickle?”

Amelia huddled on the edge of the couch with an afghan blanket tossed around her shoulders, refusing even to look at Konstantin when he posed the question. It had come off as innocent, but an edge of humor lingered in his tone. Just enough to say he enjoyed pestering Amelia with his constant chatter.