That answered nothing.
“Why? To frighten me with it because it’s small and dark?”
Alberto chuckled, waving a finger at her. “Smart, but it’s actually much bigger than you think. And there are chains on every exit door. The walls are so thick that no one can be heard screaming when they’re brought here, and even better, no one would say a thing if they were heard. But no, that isn’t why I brought you here.”
Violet clenched her fists at her sides, confused and wary. “I don’t understand.”
“All it takes is a room like this, and a few days to ruin a man’s mind.”
“So?”
“I want you to take a good look around you right now, imagine it being cold, dark, and small. Then consider the only light you get is when someone comes in here to beat you at least once a day, but sometimes twice if they’re in the neighborhood.”
Violet backed up a foot, wanting to be further away from her father. She didn’t know this man at all—he was not who she knew.
“Careful,” Alberto said when Violet’s back almost hit the wall. “Don’t touch, it’s probably still wet.”
She didn't look over her shoulder, but did ask, “With what?”
“Take a guess.”
“No.”
Alberto shrugged. “Your mind will do it for you. And believe me, that is more than enough.”
It already had, but Violet refused to even go there. This was just another one of her father’s games—a head game to mess with her mind, and trick her into compliance.
She didn't want it to work but she wanted out of this fucking building.
“I want to go home,” Violet said.
“Soon,” Alberto promised. He waved a hand high, gesturing at the room, but maybe he meant the building. “I wanted you to see, Violet.”
“See what?”
“What I will do to Kazimir Markovic before I kill him, should he ever put his hands on you again.”
With guards on either side of him, hands on their guns as though they had to worry what Kaz’s next move would be, he was walked down the hallway, bypassing a number of cells, where inmates were shouting, or otherwise asleep. Though smaller and far younger than a number of the men that made up the block he was housed in, no one bothered him.
While his name felt like a burden sometimes, this was not one of them.
As they continued on, they didn’t stop at the first door to the left where the large room was where the inmates were allowed visitation, but kept going, finally stopping at another door where Kaz’s guard to the left had to look up at the camera in the corner of the wall before a buzz could be heard, and they were allowed inside.
Through there, and the corridor adjacent to it, Kaz’s shackles were finally unlocked, giving him the chance to rotate his wrists, after having the metal rubbing against them for so long. His guards stepped to the side, but one said, “You got ten minutes,” before he gave the door opposite him a push, and gestured for Kaz to walk outside.
Breathing in the fresh air, Kaz dug into the pocket of his uniform for his cigarettes, plucking one from the pack then bringing it up to his lips.
“Those things are going to kill you, Kazimir.”
He turned slightly, just enough that he could see Vasily waiting for him, standing out of view of the cameras that lined the roof—or maybe he had someone to shift the angle for the time being.
“Maybe so,” Kaz said with a shrug. “But it could be worse.”
Vasily’s brows lifted as he said, “Oh? How so?”
“You could be standing at my back.”
Kaz almost grinned as Vasily’s humor fled. He’d had enough time in the thirty days he had already been locked inside to think on just how he had ended up here. The right people could have been easily bought off in a matter of days for a weapon’s charge.
And yet, nothing.
Kaz had no choice but to take the deal they offered, knowing that because he already had a felony on his record, he could have been facing a number of years behind bars, as opposed to just the six months he ended up with.
But six months in a cell was still fucking torture for him.
“You came here for a reason, Vasily,” Kaz said, taking a drag from his cigarette. “What do you want?”
“I’m offering you a chance for you to move on once you’re out—to focus on what’s important. If you want it, your position will still be yours, and there will be no bad blood between us and the Galluccis. Alberto is willing to let you be free.”
Laughing without humor, he shook his head. “And what makes you think I give a fuck what Alberto Gallucci is willing to give me?”
“Kazimir—”