Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(69)

“Tell me about the wedding,” Vasily said, not a hint of emotion in his tone. “I hear women love to fuss about that sort of nonsense, yes? Tell me about it.”

Violet kept her lips shut.

When she didn’t give him what he wanted, Vasily leaned forward a bit with a sigh. “Had you been my child, girl, this never would have happened. You see, my oldest girl had a fancy for a young man—Cain, I believe his name was—and I didn’t approve. There were no warnings for her. You see, I simply rid him from her life. Simple and easy.”

A chilled shiver worked its way up Violet’s spine, but still, she kept quiet.

Vasily let out another chuckle. “As your father should have done for you, I think. I might even have turned a cheek to him spilling Kazimir’s blood, considering all the trouble he’s caused me over the years. I have no patience for rebellious brats, you understand? I overlooked Kazimir’s behavior because I had no other choice. Now, he’s forced my hand. Yet Alberto seems to believe there is something worthy about you—something fixable in your rebellion.”

“I’m not a child,” Violet said, hatred coating her every word. “It’s not a phase he can wait to pass or beat out of me, you f*cking idiot.”

Had Vasily been her father, Violet never would have disrespected him so blatantly, not with her tone or her curses and name-calling. She would have known better.

And maybe she should have this time.

But she didn’t know Vasily Markovic well at all.

She didn’t even see his fist coming until he knocked her out.





Violet awakened slowly; pain bloomed in all different spots of her body, but it focused the most on her jaw and her lower back. She blinked, but only blackness stared back at her.

Confusion settled deep into her stomach as fear welled in her heart.

Sliding her hands along the floor, dirt and grime smeared against her palms. Letting out a painful whine as she pushed herself up, she ignored the nausea swelling in her throat and the haziness in her vision.

Where the f*ck was she?

She couldn’t see anything.

“Kaz!”

Her shout echoed.

Like a giant hole of nothingness surrounded her.

Panic settled in deep as she tried to stand, but she only became even more disoriented on her feet. Because she wasn’t even sure what the f*ck she was standing on. All the blackness staring back at her gave nothing away.

There was no light.

A damp smell.

She reached out for the wall and came up with air.

Violet’s tears welled, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the anxiety to calm enough for her to think. As a child, she’d hated small places. She’d hated the dark even more.

She vividly remembered a nanny her mother had hired when she was about six who had once locked her in a small closet while playing hide and seek by accident. She’d fallen asleep waiting for the nanny to find her, and when she’d woken up surrounded by darkness and in a small space, she’d quite literally had a meltdown that shook the whole wing of the mansion with her screams.

Apparently, her father and others had been searching for her, thinking she had somehow gotten outside and past the security.

It took them hours to realize she was still in the house, locked in that f*cking closet.

Violet never saw that nanny again.

Even now, as an adult, that memory still clung to her mind whenever she woke to darkness and nothing else.

Violet opened her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t see anything staring back at her. She forced back the anxiety and ignored the throbbing in her eye as she put her hands out in front of her and walked forward. It was only a few steps before her hands came up against something solid. Feeling around the space, she felt four walls and, eventually, a goddamn door.

One with no knob.

Or so it seemed.

There was also no light switch.

The more Violet searched and came up with no way out of whatever f*cking box she was in, the worse her panic became until she was gasping for breath and sobbing.

Another memory bubbled up hard and fast as she beat her fists against the door and screamed her frustrations. Maybe it was the musty smell of the place that did it—like rotting garbage and heat rolled into one. Or maybe it was the smell of paint in the air like someone had recently put a layer of paint over the old batch.

But what color would they have painted it being as dark as it was?

Black.

The Black Hall.

Her father’s threat all those many months ago …

Alberto had clearly changed his plans. Kaz was not the one inside the Black Hall.

She was.

Violet’s backside met the floor as she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing away the tears and wishing she could calm down enough to figure out a way out of there.

No one would hear her, she remembered her father saying.

The place was a maze.

Violet just … cried.

As time ticked on, Violet found she was more confused than ever because she didn’t know how long she had even been there. She heard no sounds, saw no light, and couldn’t distinguish time to say what had already passed since she woke up.

How long had she been in there before that point?

The sounds in the darkness were the worst. A creak of a floor, the drip from above, and the squeak behind the door she rested against.