Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(60)

When his offering was placed on the table, he made his leave rather quickly, though it was clear he wanted to stay and see what was inside of it.

This, apparently, was what Vasily had been waiting on. There was a note tucked into the bow of the ribbon, but as Vasily plucked it free, he didn’t bother with the box at all, merely opened the note and began to read.

“Sacrifice,” his voice rang out amongst the quiet of the room, “is at the heart of repentance. Without deeds, your apology is worthless. Bryan Davis.”

Who the f*ck was Bryan Davis?

“As you may all have been aware, one of our own was attacked two nights ago,” Vasily said, dropping the note on the table, his gaze sliding over every man in the room—well at least everyone besides Ruslan.

But no one would have noticed that, no one except Kaz. Kaz also didn’t miss that Vasily hadn’t personalized his words—“our own” instead of “my son”.

“I am not one to allow such acts to go unpunished, but I have learned with great patience comes great reward. There was no need for retribution,” Vasily said, this time his gaze lingering on Kaz. “Not when we do not have to dirty our hands. We are Vory v Zakone, others do our work for fear of what we may do next.”

Kaz had to stifle an eye roll. Vasily was known for his dramatics, but this was just over the top, and more than anything, he was just ready for the box to be opened so he could see what was inside.

“This,” he went on, pointing to the box in front of him, “is a gift given to me, but I believe that it is one worth sharing—and after all, this gift is as much Ruslan’s as it is mine. So please, Ruslan, if you would do the honors.”

Ruslan had never liked the spotlight, much preferring to blend into the background, but as all eyes turned to him, he cleared his throat and stood, hand going out to catch the box as Vasily slid it across the table toward him.

His brother didn’t waste time with theatrics, just pulled the ribbons free, then the top and tossed it on the table, his eyes searching the contents.

There was a moment of disbelief, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, then he was reaching inside, drawing out the bag inside, holding it up for them all to see.

Red.

That was the first thing that popped into Kaz’s head as he saw the package, but as he blinked, his brain finally catching up to what he was actually seeing, he rubbed his own chest.

The Italians had sent them Franco’s heart.





With a heavy huff, Violet dropped her messenger bag onto the seat and took the other right beside it. Nicole barely looked up from the laptop she was typing on, and Amelia, sitting beside her, kept her eyes down on her phone. Both girls already had to-go cups of lattes sitting in front of them, and another was waiting for Violet.

She picked the cup up, taking a sip of the Chai latte and letting the sweetness of the drink roll over her taste buds.

“Damn, thanks,” she said as she pulled the cup away. “I needed that.”

Nicole didn’t look away from the laptop. “How’d the test go?”

Violet rolled her eyes. “Terribly, no doubt.”

Whether she liked it or not, Violet was going to have to let her father know that her grades were slipping in school before the college gave him a call because she wasn’t keeping up the average he demanded. The school wouldn’t want to lose out on his regular donations, after all. With everything that was going on around her, she just couldn’t focus like she needed to.

Alberto wouldn’t be pleased.

It didn’t help that Violet wasn’t sleeping well nearly a week after witnessing a man’s chest be cut open at her brother’s hand—a man her friend had been involved with for a good year.

Violet passed Amelia a look, noting the dark circles under her friend’s eyes, and her slightly disheveled clothes. Obviously, her friend wasn’t sleeping well, if the way she looked was any indication to go by.

“Your dad is going to be pissed that you’re flunking the semester,” Nicole said.

Violet barely held back her scowl. “Thanks for the memo.”

Nicole tipped her head in Amelia’s direction. “Not the only one, though.”

“Does Vito know yet?” Violet asked Amelia.

Her friend acted like she didn’t even hear her question.

Nicole openly frowned, glancing at the phone in Amelia’s hand. “Still no answer, huh?”

Finally, Amelia gave a response. Just a shake of her head, no words.

“Who?” Violet asked.

Nicole mouthed, “Franco.”

Oh.

Damn.

All it took was Franco’s name and Violet was right back to where she started a week ago when she watched from outside the cabin as his blood spilled to the basement floor. She tried to counteract the automatic reaction of panic and disgust swelling up into her throat, threatening to send the Chai latte back out of her stomach.

Violet cleared her throat, and glanced away.

“I don’t understand,” Amelia said quietly.

Her voice …

So soft, pained, and confused.

It hurt Violet.

While she was angry with her friend because of what she had lied about, and what it caused, she didn’t think Amelia deserved to be left in limbo like she was. Why hadn’t someone—Amelia’s father, even—spoke up and told her the truth about Franco?