Page 118 of Where the Wind Whispers

But his lapse was Kaz’s gain.

While Alberto didn’t look at Kaz as he approached, he knew he was there. “The poor man’s cemetery,” Alberto said, still staring out at the tombstones. “This was your father’s choice, you know—our meeting here. Hallowed ground, we’d said.”

Kaz didn’t think the man was asking for a response, nor did he think he wanted one. He wanted to talk.

“One man,” Alberto continued. “One man to end the violence between our families—that was what we agreed.” Alberto’s lips curled with dark amusement. “The bodies that have been buried since then … the number boggles my mind.”

To this, Kaz had a response. “It didn’t have to be this way. I never wanted a war with you, but you gave me no choice.”

Alberto laughed without humor. “You’re a father now. One day you’ll understand my desire to protect my daughter from men like you.”

“Men like me?” Kaz echoed. “Men like us, no?”

“I don’t believe it matters anymore,” the Italian said, now looking at Kaz with an unreadable expression. “It’s time, Kazimir.”

“Yes, I believe it is.”

“Your life for hers,” Alberto said as he drew out his phone. “As soon as I get what I want, I’ll have the girl released.”

Kaz retrieved his gun, holding the heavy metal in his hand, the spider web tattooed there stretching and pulling with the movement. How many times had he held this very gun in his hand? Countless, for sure, but he could only think of one other occasion when it mattered as much as this.

“Don’t worry,” Alberto said with all the confidence in the world. “You won’t suffer long.”

“I want you to understand that you always had a choice, Alberto—we all have choices. This thing … this fucked-up thing between our families, could have stayed a secret had you and my father just let it go.”

“Pardon?” Alberto returned, now moving to his feet. “This isn’t meant to be a discussion.”

Kaz went on as though the man hadn’t spoken. “The two of you caused your own deaths.”

“How many times must we go through this?”

“Tell me, where is Anastasya?” Kaz asked.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but if you’re still speaking, you’re not dead.”

His humor was fading, replaced quickly with annoyance as though Kaz’s question and statements were hindering him.

“You gave someone explicit instructions as to what to do with Anastasya. Who was that person?”

Alberto glared at him, the muscle in his jaw working as he ground his teeth, but very slowly, his expression shifted, and had Kaz not been looking for it, he might not have noticed the touch of anxiety in the man’s eyes.

“Go ahead,” Kaz said as he began screwing the silencer onto his gun. “Give me an answer.”

“My son would never betray me,” Alberto said with conviction. “He knows his place.”

“Your son? Right. Did you not wonder why I let him go? I couldn’t give a shit about Carmine—he would’ve died out of spite. You’re a smart man, you should’ve known.”

Alberto made a snarling sort of sound as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear, calling Kaz’s bluff, but it didn’t take long before he got the answer he hadn’t been hoping for.

Kaz shook his head, moving his hands to his front as he stared at the Italian across from him. “That’s always been your problem, Alberto. You only see what you want and not what’s in front of you.”

Pocketing his phone, Alberto drew in a breath, seeming to stand up straighter. “I’ve given them everything.”

“Except what they wanted the most—but what do I know?”

Alberto said something else, the words low and in Italian—a prayer, Kaz thought. How quickly the tables had turned. Straightening his arm, he stared down the barrel of the gun at the man who had terrorized his family.

It was almost over …