by A. C. Bextor
“I’ll see you in hell,” she croaks, closing her eyes, and most likely framing my face and words as a last memory.
“You might.” I tsk, pulling the rod back and hearing it drop to the floor. “You better fucking pray to Lucifer that you don’t.”
“It’s time to take your place, Klara.” Abram pulls out the chair directly in front of Faina’s stainless steel, closed casket.
The spray of red roses is a stark reminder of why it was shut during the church service. With Faina’s body beaten as badly as it was, there was no other choice.
After the service, I placed my hand on the cold steel handle and smiled to myself. Faina would’ve been horrified if the casket had been left open. She wouldn’t have wanted others to see her look anything but totally put together, even after she was dead.
The church service had been short. People from all over the state had come to bid their saddest good-byes. Some mourners passed me, holding their hands out to touch mine. Others said nothing, keeping mainly to themselves. With so many families affected by the loss of Faina’s big heart, it was no surprise that droves of mourners showed up to pay their final respects.
“Where’s Vlad?” I ask Abram, taking the seat as suggested and scanning the crowd.
Vlad hasn’t said but a few words to me in the last two days. Judging by his tired appearance, the weight of Faina’s death has finally hit him. I wasn’t sure it ever would; he’d been such a pillar of strength for both Veni and me.
He’s still not outwardly grieved—not in front of others, anyway. Not even me. Instead, he’s shut himself down. Hours and hours have been spent in his study, looking at the items on his desk but not really seeing anything at all.
“He’s already in place at the back.”
“Is he alone?”
Abram shakes his head. “Killian is with him.”
Killian and Erlina insisted they come to be by Vlad’s side. If any two people know and understand a loved one’s life ending with such brutality, it’s them.
“Vlad said you’re to stay here,” Abram solemnly informs me.
Abram asked me to give him time. He promises Vlad will deal with the loss of his sister in his own way, but it’s a process Vlad says he must go through alone. He’s known this part of Vlad much longer than I have, so I trust he’s right.
Gleb asked me to be patient. He insists the stress of her passing has been put on the entire family, not just Vlad, and will no doubt linger for some time. Eventually, though, Vlad will find his way back to me.
Rueon asked me to be understanding. He would ask this. He cares about Vlad as a father and loved Faina like he would an aunt. He’s fearful that, if I push, Vlad will go back to being as he was before.
“Dad will make them pay,” Veni sneers at Abram standing at my side. “All of them deserve what’s coming.”
“Veni,” Abram warns, reaching out and grabbing Veni’s arm. “Not here and not now.”
“Fuck this,” Veni returns, pulling from Abram’s grasp. “You know this is bullshit.”
Abram moves his hand, placing it on my shoulder. The gesture offers little reassurance. Veni has not only been suffering the loss of his aunt, but he’s also witnessing how misplaced his once so strong-minded father has been. And he’s taking it harder than I was already afraid he would. Veni resembles Vlad in more ways than I ever remember.
Slowly, this is killing us all.
“Sit by me?” I ask, turning in place to catch Veni’s hand.
Doing as I ask, Veni pulls the chair next to mine, then gently squeeze my fingers.
“Are you all right?” he carefully asks, looking down and not at me.
“I’ll be all right if you’d stay here with me until this is over.”
Veni looks to Abram, who nods his approval before walking away to the back.
Veni’s voice is low when he leans toward me and states, “Vory couldn’t be bothered to come, Klara. What the fuck does that say to Dad? What’s it say to any of us?”
Vory Zalesky called. Called to give his condolences to Vlad. Not for the loss of his daughter, but for the loss Vlad had caused to everyone who loved her. This, as everything else, has added to the weight of responsibility that Vlad has placed on his own shoulders.
“Your grandmother isn’t doing well,” I lie. “They’re both here in thought and prayer.”
Veni sneers. “Right.”
As the preacher stands in front of Faina’s casket, an open Bible in his hand, we all bow our heads as he leads us in one final prayer before they lower her casket into the ground.
“The loss of his sister will stay with Vlad for a long while,” Ciro decrees, sitting in the backseat of his black town car and staring across the open graveyard. “As long as I need it to, anyway.”
The windows are fogged up from the rain and humidity. For the last ten minutes, Ciro’s been watching the preacher recite his prayers as the Zalesky pallbearers help lower Faina’s casket into the cold, wet ground. And he’s doing it with satisfaction.
Elevent hasn’t said much since they arrived, but rarely does the man ever speak his mind in Ciro’s presence. He owes his life in blood to Ciro for saving his all those years ago, and Ciro plans to use that reminder to get what he needs. He’ll use the Saint’s Justice motorcycle club as a decoy in his next plan. He’ll shift all blame to them just as he blamed Katrina’s disobedience for what happened to Klara.
At first, he’d been angry for Katrina’s act of defiance in calling Vlad to let him know where Klara was. She was supposed to kill her—no spectators and no fanfare. A knife to the chest should’ve accomplished what needed to be done. But as he guessed at their first meeting, the whore really was genuinely in love with the Russian. She betrayed him in the worst way and got exactly what she deserved for doing so.
Yesterday, the news reported a body found in the forest. Police have started an investigation to determine if the parts left by the animals were man or woman. Ciro doesn’t have to ask if it was Katrina, nor does he care enough to confirm.
Vlad Zalesky took his revenge against her in the nature Ciro had expected he would.
“That woman of Vlad’s,” Elevent starts, narrowing his eyes and staring out the same window. “Do you know anything about her?”
The rain is coming down in heavy sheets, bouncing off the top of the black tent the Zalesky family sits beneath. Rows of chairs draped in black velvet hold the seated women. The men, including his own family of Dawsons, are standing at the back. Both Erlina and Killian have come to show their support and pay their respects.
Traitors.
Guards flank all sides, surrounded by a non-reactive Vlad at the center. The men who stand close are careful not to reveal any emotion on their faces.
“I don’t need to know more about Klara. As long as Vlad keeps to his own, we won’t have any more problems.”
Elevent releases a harsh laugh. Ciro has always hated the younger man’s ability to rattle him. Even as a boy, when he came to live with the Palleshis, Elevent’s temper and careless respect for the family pissed him off.
“Keeps to his own? And all of a sudden you’re into keeping peace?”
“No, you imbecile. Pay attention,” Ciro clips with frustration. “I’ll rebuild just as I’d planned. It’ll take years, but it can be done. Then, I’ll take everything from him. Everything.”
“And the boy?” Elevent questions, staring across the green and brown grass and watching as Vlad’s only son holds Klara’s hand as she cries against his shoulder. “He’s a fuckin’ kid. According to intel Gypsy gathered, Veniamin Zalesky won’t be who takes his father’s place.”
Ciro agrees, knowing the family will be left without an heir to take over once Vlad is in the ground next to his sister.
“Starting now, we focus on the future. The future of my family. And you owe me your time and resources to do that.”
The biker’s facial expression is telling. The anger he uses against Ciro satisfies the older man’s si
ck sense of certainty in knowing Elevent is aware of his debt to him. He’s knows Elevent isn’t happy about owing anything, but also that he’ll do as he’s told out of loyalty.
“I have a club to run, old man,” Elevent chastises. “And dealing with your bullshit is starting to affect how my business is handled.”
“This is all business,” Ciro clarifies. “And since I continue to pay your ridiculous fee for what you should be doing for me at no cost, you’ll keep your mouth shut. The others can believe Vlad and I are finished.”
“You’re not sharin’ with Pete?”
“No.”
A long time ago, Ciro realized his best friend Pete had gone soft. His cherished love for the human life has led him down a righteous path. Ciro wants nothing to do with where Pete’s heart has taken him. His second-in-command is still an asset he’ll always need, but he’s not one who can handle the business that will soon need to be done.
“What will you do to Killian?” Elevent questions, nodding out the window to the aging man in the dark suit.
“In time,” Ciro sighs. “He’ll get his.”
“And Liam?” Elevent asks next, bringing up the heart of Ciro. “You’re already in line for payback from Vlad. You wanna piss off both Killian and Vlad, then Liam could end up in the clouds with Faina if you’re not careful.”
Liam is another issue entirely. Liam is good, like his mother. The thought of breaking the promise he gave his little sister before she died slices through Ciro’s chest like a hot blade. Liam’s innocence was the one thing he once prided himself on.
Yet, with the family struggling to stay afloat by relying solely on drug trade alone, everything is changing.
Promises will have to be broken.
Roles in the family will change.
Personal sacrifices will be made.
Lives will inevitably be lost.
In order for the Palleshi name to reign as it should in both size and power, Liam will undoubtedly be needed.
“Let’s go. We’ve seen enough,” Ciro dismisses, tapping the window and signaling to the driver to move forward.
There are plans to be made.
Paul and Dallace: The past year has been challenging for our family. We all got through it together. Thank you for being everything you are. Better things are coming for us in 2017.
Ashleigh: Maestro and Monkey are back!
Dana Hook: You’re a champ. Thank you for all of your unyielding support. There were a few times that if it hadn’t been for you, I may not have finished this project.
Alesha Newby: Thank you for picking the story apart, imagining what could make it stronger and offering those suggestions. Also for the blurb start. That was a new flavor of hell for me this go around.
Kori Toth-Gray: Your mental basement scares the living shit out of me. But, I’m still glad I got to visit. Thank you for all your feedback. LOVED IT. I am sorry you didn’t get your pirate for a hero, though. Maybe next time.
Best Betas Ever: Chantal Gemperle, Joni Fee, Jackie Sloan, Sam Price, Melissa Bookslayer, Denielle Hoppe.
Cover Art: Margreet Asselbergs at Rebel Edit and Design
Editing: Kristin at Hot Tree Editing
Proofreading: Author Services by Julie Deaton
Formatting: Stacey Blake at Champagne Formats
Other titles by A.C. Bextor
Kept
LIGHTS OF PERIL SERIES
Holding On
The Way Home
Toxic
DEVIL’S DESPAIR SERIES
Ace’s Redemption (Stand Alone)
Hayden’s Verse (Stand Alone)
Travis’s Stand
THE VENGEANCE DUET
Dirty
Truth
