Xander’s mother, a figure draped in black, moves with a grace that belies the pain etched across her features. She acknowledges condolences with a nod, her eyes betraying the depths of her grief yet remaining steadfast in the face of the funeral traditions that envelop us.
The burial ceremony unfolds with a solemnity that echoes through the space. A priest in rich vestments intones prayers in Latin, the ancient language weaving an aura of reverence for the departed soul.
Incense wafts through the air, carrying with it the aroma of centuries-old traditions that bind us to our heritage.
Xander stands beside me, his eyes straight ahead while the priest blesses his father’s soul.
The cemetery is a sea of dark attire and muted whispers, each mourner bearing the weight of grief as they gather to pay their respects.
The air is thick with the heavy scent of lilies and the sorrow that clings to the atmosphere as if the very heavens weep for the loss of a man whose presence commands respect in both life and death.
My hair ruffles gently in the breeze blowing through the trees as I stand, my arms around my body, my heart breaking for the man beside me.
He’s wearing a stoic mask on his face, his body so still I would believe he’s hewn from marble if his chest wasn’t rising and falling every few seconds.
He closes his eyes as the priest says the last stream of prayers, and soon, it is time to let his Father into the dark earth. Tears stream down my face, and he gives me a long, soft look. “Hey, it’s fine.”
I nod. I know it’s fine. But he’s hurt. He’s in pain as much as he won’t agree he’ll ever miss the man. “I know. It’s just so sad he’s gone now when things are looking up for us.”
“He fought long and hard. He deserves a rest.” He looks at the dark casket placed in the center of the gathering, and his lips curl in a soft smile. “I like to think he’s at peace now.”
But is it possible? Amory had spent his entire life with violence just around the corner from him. He was responsible for more than a few deaths, for drugs on the streets and guns in homes. Is there rest for him, or is it judgment?
The funeral mass is taking place just a few steps from the family mausoleum, where his father will finally be laid to rest. There are a few snuffles and sniffles from the females, but most of the men keep their faces blank. Death is an accepted end to the journey of life.
The priest ends the prayer, and six men heft the casket, and we trail behind them to the mausoleum, the guests behind us. Not all of them will make it inside; the burial itself is reserved for family only.
I tug gently at Xander as we step through the large wooden door at the entrance of the mausoleum. He gives me his attention, and I ask softly. “Are you okay?”
“As okay as I can be. Don’t you worry.” He smiles softly, but his eyes are bright, and they bring an ache to my chest.
We stop before the large crypt where his father’s casket will be laid, and the six men step in, slowly, slowly, letting the casket drop until it lands with a thump on the granite surface of the elevated platform.
A loud wail cuts the solemn silence, and I turn to find his mother sagging into Alec’s arms, her face hidden away. Alec’s jaw ticks hard, and Xander’s nail bites into the skin of my hand, but I don’t pull away.
Knox is looking up with an effort to hold his own emotions at bay. Only Declan is sobbing quietly, a line of tears running down both his cheeks.
He leans against one of the statues scattered around the room. It’s a gloomy day outside, but inside, it’s almost warm, with bright lights spilling from the chandeliers above.
Amory Vittoria has been laid to rest. Finally, I turn away and sink my face into Xander’s shoulders, and he holds me tight, but his body is restless and shifty under me. He sinks his hand into his pocket and comes up with his phone, checks it for a second, and returns it to the pocket.
By the time I lift my head, he’s already directing the men out of the crypt with instructions, the keening cry when the men step out loud enough to meet my ears inside the mausoleum. Knox leads his mother outside.
I feel queasy immediately as I step outside, already wondering if there will be a repeat of my time in the bathroom from this morning.
I turn my head to find a man staring. He’s almost…normal, apart from the flask, which he lifts in a salute and drinks from. He looks harmless enough, but for the rest of the time, he just stares at me.
“I’ll be driving over to the house to receive the guests for the feast. I want you with me. I don’t want you out of my sight.” Xander takes my hand, and together with his brothers, we walk over to the car, where I slide into the back beside him. Ryder is absent, and I realize I haven’t seen him all day.
I don’t ask Xander because he places his hand on my thighs and leans back into the cool leather. I relax into him and allow him some time for himself. We sit in a comfortable silence till we arrive at his parent’s.
We arrive at the house to find guests milling around. There are about two hundred people who have come to feast for the last time at Amory’s table.
His mother is already at the door, thanking the people for coming, and Xander joins her. I try to walk away, but his hand tightens around mine. “I’ll be inside with your brothers. You don’t have to worry.”
“Make sure they don’t lose sight of you.” He grits out. He lets me go, and I walk away, thinking he’s being more protective than usual. I find Knox sitting on the sofa alone, his eyes closed. Beside him is Declan, who is dry-eyed and scowling.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, settling between the two of them.
“There’s too many fucking people. Where the fuck did they come from?” He growls, his eyes darting around the room, which is buzzing with the loud silence of people eating and talking quietly. “It’s not safe.”
Weren’t they expecting this many people? “It’s your father’s funeral. Of course, there’s going to be a lot of people, Declan. They’re here to pay their respects.”
“They’re here to sniff out the competition. I’m certain a few of them are fucking spies too.” He sounds disgruntled, and I don’t argue with him. He’s most probably right.
Rosa arrives from nowhere, a plate of fruit in her hand, which she hands to me. She has a frown on her face, and a hurried look lingers in her eyes. “I know you haven’t had a meal all day. That can’t be healthy for you. And stop worrying; he’s going to be fine.”
I bite my lip and nod. Of course, he’s going to be fine. It doesn’t mean that I worry any less. “I didn’t know you were here. I haven’t seen Ryder all day.”
Her reply is very cryptic. “He’s keeping an eye on things.”
I want to ask what he’s keeping an eye on, but Alec interrupts us. Most of the guests are settled, a few eating, most standing around discussing with familiar faces. Father is somewhere around, but I can’t see him now. As is Daniel.
Alec has Lucian in his arms. He hands me the boy, and I clasp my arms around his struggling body and press a kiss to his hair. He wants to be let down, but there are too many people around for that.
Xander and I had made time to sit with him and tell him his Grandpa was dead. He didn’t understand everything but at least it would explain why the man wouldn’t be seated at the head of the table anymore. Why wouldn’t he be able to see him when he wanted to? My heart squeezes and wrenches and I’m the one holding back tears.
I’ve just dabbed at my eyes and swung my head to try to find Gianna in the throng of humans when my eyes clashes with the man from the funeral. He still has the flask in his hands, and he doesn’t look away now. Same as earlier. This time, there’s a sly smile on his face that sends a slimy shiver of discomfort skittering through me.
He presses a finger to his lips and then turns and limps away. I watch him until he steps out of the door. I look away, somewhat chilled, and hug Lucian harder against my frame, relieved when he pushes his head into the crook of my shoulder and settles somewhat. Xander walks inside, people parting without question to let him pass.
He walks towards us, his eyes trained on Lucian, who’s suddenly restless again, sticking out his hand for his father. He wiggles in my arms to be let down, and I let him, watching as he runs to his father. “Papa.”
Xander sweeps him into his arms and hugs him tight, closing his eyes for a second and inhaling his hair deeply. That and the fast blink of his eyes for a short second is the only streak of emotion across his blank face.
I see him relaxing into the comfort that our son brings, and it makes my heart swell with joy.
His phone must ring in his pocket because he finds it, lifts it to his eyes, and stiffens. His entire body goes rigid, his arm around Lucian going so tight that the boy wiggles.
I stand, noticing the flurry of movement everywhere in the room. All his men are alert, as is Rosa, who has her eyes on her phone.
He stomps towards me, hands me Lucian without a word, and bends towards my ears. His words are a panicked whisper, barely loud enough for me to hear. “You head back home with Romero right now! You do not leave the house without hearing directly from me. Do you understand?”
I gulp and bite down on my lip, my eyes tracking the room. Most of the men are already heading toward the door, and the few left are taking up strategic positions around the room. It’s easy to see that something’s wrong. “Are you going to be safe? Xander, please, I need to know.”
He takes my fingers in his, and his eyes clash with mine. “I’ll come back to you. I can’t promise in what state, but I’ll be back.”
