My men and I all stand together, our heads bowed in respect as we listen to the priest talk about what a great businessman Raff was and how much his family meant to him. A picture of him with my father and Silas sits to the side of the casket, broad smiles on all of their faces. I hope they’re as happy now as they were then.
Glancing to the side, I notice Scarlett standing off to the side. She’s dressed in all black, like the rest of us, holding a small black clutch in front of her. I want to watch her, to get a feel for what is going through her head, but as Viola steps up to the podium to speak, my attention is pulled away. She stands there, looking like a pillar of strength, with her brown hair pinned back. Taking a deep breath, she looks down at the paper and back up at the crowd.
“My father was a noble man. To his friends, he was loyal. To his family, he was dependable. Anyone who really knew him knows that he was always there to listen. If he could do anything to help, he would do it. It didn’t matter who you were.
“I remember the time my prom date was late to pick me up. Being a seventeen year old girl, dramatics were my specialty. Five minutes after he was supposed to show up, I wasn’t telling myself reasonable things like car trouble or just running a bit late. I was stomping around the house, calling him every name under the sun for standing me up. Dad talked shit about him with me for a half hour, before the doorbell rang and there was my prom date. Turns out the limo was just late picking him up, and I hadn’t checked my phone.”
The crowd chuckles before she continues.
“My parents were the ideal couple. The thing you picture when you read romance novels. He put her first every single day from the moment they met. And when they had Nico and me, he did the same with us. I can’t remember a single time that I needed something and he wasn’t there to help me. What I can remember, however, is the time he came home and told me that we were getting a new brother. His best friend had passed away, leaving his ten-year-old son an orphan. But Dad wouldn’t have that. And when I threw a fit and asked him why I had to share a room with Nico, he bent down, looked me in the eyes, and said that we’re family, and family takes care of its own.”
She looks over at me and I give her a small smile, nodding once in respect.
“As we lay to rest the man who was a father figure to so many, the one thing I hope you feel when you think of him is the warmth that he spread wherever he went.” She turns her head toward the casket and wipes a tear from her cheek. “And don’t worry, Dad. I’ll have the Giants game on for you this Sunday.”
Ending her speech, she walks over and places a rose on top of his casket. Nico goes next, quietly holding his hand on the wood for a moment before taking a step back. As I step up, I place two roses down beside Viola’s—one for me, and one for Saxon. After that, everyone else gets their turn to pay their respects, but as the funeral starts to come to an end, I find my anger building by the second.
Rage flows through my veins, charring everything in its path, the fire inside of me being suffocated until it’s nothing but glowing embers. My fist clenches as I listen to those around me cry their fake tears, whispering about age old memories they wouldn’t have remembered if not for the current circumstance. And when they lower the casket into the ground, the last honorable part of me goes along with it.
Nothing but malice remains.
And mark my words.
I’m going to find Dmitri.
And I’m going to skin him alive.
Everything comes to a close, and I glance over at where Scarlett stood, but she’s already walking away. I push past a few people, murmuring insincere apologies as I try to follow her. Nothing good can come of this, though I can’t find it in me to care.
But divine intervention must have other plans.
A grip on my wrist has me turning around to see Nico standing there, a furious glare focused on me. To say he hasn’t been the same since the day we found Raff would be an understatement. Viola has been keeping an eye on him, but he’s been an empty shell of a man.
“Give me a minute,” I tell him. “I’ll be right back.”
“No!” he roars. “Fuck you!”
“Nico!” Viola shouts as my brows raise.
“Excuse me?”
He puts his hands on my chest and pushes me as hard as he can. “You fucking heard me. You did this!”
I take a minute, reminding myself that he’s grieving and not in his right mind. “How about we have this conversation elsewhere?”
“Why? So that everyone doesn’t know you’re the reason he’s dead?” he snaps. “If you weren’t on a goddamn power trip, they wouldn’t have come after him! You may as well have shot him yourself!”
Putting a hand up, I glance around. “Lower your tone before I lower it for you.”
Clearly taking orders isn’t something he’s willing to do right now, as he rears back and punches me directly in the jaw. My men act at once, rushing to grab us both, but not before I get a couple hits of my own in. As I’m pulled back, I touch my lip and see that I’m bleeding.
Beni keeps a hand on my chest as I point at Nico with my index and middle fingers together. “We just put the only man who ever kept me from killing you in the ground. I suggest you don’t fucking cross me again.”
He says nothing, just takes rapid breaths through his nose as he glares at me.
I spin on my heels and force myself to walk away before I toss Raff’s prized moron into the grave with him.
Everyone handles grief differently. Some like to reminisce, thinking about the good times and how they’re in a better place. While others, like myself, need to burn in it. It sets us on fire from the inside and chips away at pieces of us, taking what it wants with reckless abandon. Kage is the same.
He’s been cold—dead inside like I was—and I can’t say I blame him. He already lost his parents at such a young age. Having to relive that with Raff at thirty-four was just the icing on his trauma cake. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do whatever it takes to help him. After all, he did the same for me.
I pace back and forth across the floor as I wait for him to get back from the funeral. I’d be staring out the window if it wasn’t for the two guards standing out front. They think the house is empty, and if they saw the supposed to be dead girl in the window, they’d either shit themselves or come busting through the door.
I’d rather not find out which it would be.
It’s half past noon when he finally comes in the door. My socks slip against the floor as I jump off the couch and rush to get to him, but as I get closer, I come to halt. He looks like he’s aged a hundred years in a single morning, and there’s a new cut on his lip that wasn’t there when he left.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, putting my hand on his cheek.
“It’s fine,” he says, tossing his suit jacket on the chair by the door. “Nothing you should concern yourself with.”
Taking his hand, I lead him over to the couch. He sits down, and I stand behind him as I massage his shoulders. Lately, it’s as if he’s been holding the weight of the world. From losing the mafia properties to my near-death experience and losing our baby, and now to this. It’s bound to reach a point where he just snaps, and I just hope I’m able to bring him back from the edge before he goes over.