One by one, we slide from the pew and head outside. I put on my sunglasses, still clenching Blake’s hand as the flash of the cameras start, capturing each and every moment of the second worst day of my life.
We turn away and follow the procession to the cemetery around back. We wander over the cobble path, the sun beating down on us. We pass carved headstones, the closest ones so old, I can hardly read the writing, and as we walk farther, they become gradually newer. Some are shaped like angels, some are embellished with gold, and others are plain. Some graves are even unmarked.
It’s depressing.
Some say it comforts them to have a place where they can go and visit their loved ones. All it does for me is remind me Mark is truly gone, in the ground, rotting and absent.
Just like my brother.
Because everyone I love leaves me.
We stop before a freshly dug hole, the soil piled over to one side, ready to entomb him forever.
We stand together, The Wild Boys and me. The whole crew is here, spread around, somber and grieving, but we stay away from them, knowing one of them killed him.
Took him from us.
One of them is a murderer.
Behind my shades, I scan the area, meeting each and every eye as the vicar reads more useless words. Someone here, someone pretending to be in pain, killed him. How? How could they do that?
How could they betray us? How could they kill a man who never did anything wrong but love them, treat them with respect, and offer them a chance at a better life? What’s worse is I can’t even tell. Everyone looks so upset, so in pain, that whoever did it is a very good fucking actor, and this irritates me even more.
The police have no suspects, they are fucking useless, and the person who did this is free, walking among us, ready to attack again.
Ready to take another I love.
Blake squeezes my hand, drawing my gaze back to the casket they have brought outside. Leo takes my other hand, and I turn to see Liam grasp his. Kingston clutches Blake’s free hand and Damon’s on the other side. Emmett stands at the end, not touching anyone but close to us, with Kathy next to him, crying in her Chanel dress.
I can’t hate her, I can’t.
My hate is for someone else.
I watch as Emmett reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing. They are comforting each other like my men and I are, but a voice brings my gaze forward. I watch in horror as they lower him into the ground and people throw flowers and dirt onto the casket.
It’s our turn. The boys go, but I’m still standing here, alone and scared. I can’t. This is final, this is goodbye.
I thought I knew pain. I’ve faced grief before. I lost my best friend, I survived that…but this death rips through my fragile, healing heart, and I don’t know if I will survive it this time.
How do you go on without a heart?
I stumble over the grass, sobs slipping from my throat. I grab a flower and toss it onto the casket lid. “I’m sorry, Mark. I’m so goddamn sorry. I love you…goodbye,” I whisper, my voice thick and choked, but I can’t move away.
The rest of the crew and visitors disperse, but I stay staring down at the casket with my heart at my feet like the dirt scattered around us. And fury builds.
It fills me, replacing pain with purpose, burning everything away but the need for revenge.
“What now?” Kathy whispers.
I keep my eyes locked on the casket as I answer, “We figure out who the fuck killed our friend, and we make them pay.”
The wake is for family and close friends only, thank fuck. We can finally get away from the cameras and people that turned up just to get a look at the guys. I know Mark mentioned that the show consumed his life, but I didn’t realise just how much until now. He didn’t have many other friends beyond us and the rest of the crew, which suits us just fine.
I hate these things, but the boys insisted, saying we should celebrate Mark’s life, yet looking around the dingy little pub we’re in now, I notice none of us appear like we’re celebrating anything.
Nursing the glass of wine I hold between my frozen fingers, I stare down at the deep red liquid. Funny how I’m freezing, even though it’s an unseasonably hot day.
“Well, this is depressing.” Leo’s voice pulls my gaze from my wine, and I see him frowning down at our table where I’m sitting with Liam, Blake, and Damon. Leo carries a tray of drinks as he returns from the bar, placing it down in front of us. Kingston follows with his own drink.
“It’s a wake, what do you fucking expect?” Blake growls from my side, his anger making his tone sharp.
“Whoa,” Damon exclaims from the other side of the table. “Blake, he didn’t mean—”
Leo turns to face Blake and pushes the tray a little too forcefully in his direction, causing his pint of beer to slosh over the top of the glass and spill over the table and onto his trousers. “What I expect is for you to stop acting like a fucking sullen child,” Leo chides, his harsh rebuke so at odds with the usual happy guy I’m used to.
Cursing, Blake jumps up from the table and brushes off his trousers as we watch in open-mouthed shock. With a snarl, he grabs napkins and starts to dab at the wet patch before giving up.
What the hell is going on?
Blake looks up at Leo with a dark expression that spells trouble. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Damon swears under his breath and stands, stepping in front of Blake so he can’t do anything stupid. We’re all angry and grief stricken, he would feel awful if he took his pain out on Leo.
Leo laughs bitterly as he watches a furious Blake, shaking his head when Kingston places a hand on his shoulder to stop him from going anywhere.
I can feel everyone’s eyes on us, and when I look around, I realise I was right. Every member of the crew is here, which means the murderer is here too. Kathy is standing at the bar, watching with wide, red-rimmed eyes and a glass of whiskey clutched in her hand, while Emmett is making his way over to us with a deep frown.
“Guys,” I plead, turning my attention back to them as I push up from my chair. This is the last place we want to have this confrontation right now, especially while emotions are so high and we’re being watched.
“Mark was killed,” Blake snarls, trying to take a step around Damon, but he just slams into a wall of solid muscle. “He was fucking murdered, and you want me to just act like it didn’t happen?”
His words hit me like a physical blow, and I fall back into my seat. Thank God I hadn’t moved away, otherwise I’d be on the floor. The two of them don’t notice, too caught up in their argument, but Liam does and instantly comes to my side, his face set in a mask of concern as he wraps his arm around me.
“Of course not,” Leo shouts, clearly offended at Blake’s accusation. “I want us to think about what Mark would have wanted us to do!”
This seems to make Blake pause, and for a second, I see a flash of vulnerability on his face. It’s gone in a second, though, replaced by his usual asshole expression, but to those who know him, they would have seen it. “Which is what?”
“He wouldn’t want us moping around.” My voice is scratchy and hoarse from crying all morning, but they all hear, turning their gazes on me.
Emmett chuckles, getting a few odd looks before holding up a hand so he can explain. “You’re right, I can almost hear him now. ‘Come on, kid, you’ve got work to do.’”