Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(59)

Scrambling backward, Violet dragged Olly with her as she hurried away, breathing heavily through her nose as she tried to quell her need to vomit what little she had eaten that day.

Maybe it was the fact that Olly sensed Violet’s distress, but the dog didn’t fight to return to the cabin as she pulled him back to the pathways. She couldn’t run fast enough, couldn’t make her mind forget the images burning their way into her retinas.

Even when she closed her eyes, it was still there.

All of it.

Swallowing convulsively, she desperately willed the vomit to stay away. The burning prickle of tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.

Once her sneakers hit the stone pathways again, she took a deep breath. It didn’t help. She might have been back in the safe zone, but she felt anything but okay.

How was she supposed to sit at the dinner table later with her brother, knowing what she did, seeing what she had?

Oh, God.

Violet was three-quarters of the way back to the mansion when she nearly rammed right into her father as they both came around a blind turn in the path. She was moving much faster than Alberto was.

“Slow down, Violet,” her father said, chuckling.

It didn’t sound true.

She schooled her features, knowing her panic and fear had to be written on her face as clear as day.

“Daddy,” she greeted fast.

Too fast.

Too high.

Too breathless.

Alberto frowned. “What’s wrong, dolcezza?”

Violet shook her head, her gaze dropping down to the item her father held in his hands. It looked like a white gift box with a top that could be removed. It even had a f*cking bow on it.

Why did he have that?

What was he going to put in that box?

“Violet,” Alberto said harshly.

“Nothing is wrong,” she said quickly. “Olly got away from me, but I caught him. I just thought I should bring him back to the house.”

Alberto looked over her shoulder, down the pathways. A dark distance colored up his eyes as he asked, “You didn’t go further than I approved, right?”

“Of course not.”

“And Olly?”

“He was chasing a squirrel. He gave up at the wicker bench.”

Alberto still didn’t look pleased with her answer, but Violet had the distinct feeling her father wouldn’t question her on the lie. After all, he would have to explain what she saw. He would need to confirm it had happened.

He wouldn’t do that, she knew.

“Supper is almost ready,” Alberto said. “Go back to the mansion and wash up. You look tired—are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine, Daddy,” she assured.

Lies.

She was so far from fine it was ridiculous.

Violet’s gaze dropped to the box Alberto held again. She knew better than to ask, but with the shock of the day, her mouth worked before her brain could tell it to stop. “What’s that for?”

“A gift,” Alberto said simply, offering nothing else. “I need to collect it.”

Jesus.





Usually, more than an hour in his father’s presence and Kaz would be more than ready to go anywhere else, but for once he didn’t feel that pressing need as he sat opposite the man in the warehouse they used to do business. It wasn’t often that the pair were in this place at the same time, liability and all that, but for whatever reason, Vasily had demanded that Kaz come along.

And he had invited Ruslan.

Since Vasily already seemed to be in a mood, not to mention the cryptic shit he had spoken earlier, Kaz hadn’t asked why. And for the first time in ages, he didn’t question the order when it was given to him.

Now as he sat at the table occupied with a few of the higher ranking members in the Bratva, he let his thoughts wander, and it was of no surprise to him that they went to Violet. It felt wrong almost—thinking of her, considering present company—like his thoughts of her would be written all over his face.

But he couldn’t help himself.

Already, he’d pulled his phone out, scrolling down to her contact and staring at the number, tempted to shoot her a text, but for whatever reason, he had been unable to do it, at least not yet—not when he was in a room full of men that, while sharing his oath with the Bratva, he didn’t completely trust.

He had learned the hard way about who to give his trust to.

Years ago, back when he was first trying to earn his stars, Kaz had confided in a man by the name of Vadim. They had been around the same age, both trying to work their way into Vasily’s good graces—because in the end, it didn’t matter that Kaz was his son, if he didn’t do the work, he would never become a part of the Bratva, despite what people thought.

It wasn’t that the information Kaz had shared with him was of any importance, at least not to anyone but Kaz himself, but Vadim had taken it upon himself to share Kaz’s words with Vasily, thinking that it would earn him favor from the Pakhan.

It hadn’t. If anything, it only exposed the man for what he was.

But it had taught Kaz an important lesson, one that he hadn’t really understood until that point.

There was no honor amongst thieves.

Ruslan’s arrival dragged Kaz back to the present, and to the fact that he hadn’t arrived alone. There was another man coming in before him—Ruslan rarely let anyone walk at his back—carrying a gift. Kaz nodded to Ruslan as his brother took the seat beside him, but most of his focus was on the white box wrapped with red ribbon that the no-name soldier was carrying over to Vasily.