The chief of police shook hands with Bastian, then Rome, Cade, and Dante. The Stonewoods shook hands too. They were the leaders of this city, the men who pulled all the strings.
The women among them stood tall, though. Each of the Stonewoods had married or were tied to women they cared about. Jett held Vick’s hand like she was his lifeline and Jax never took his eyes off Brey.
I wondered if Rome would ever look at me that way or if he had in the past and I’d just missed it.
The ceremony was large, green grass sprawling across the cemetery where Mario wanted to be buried. He’d bought a plot next to his mother and father.
The priest said all the right words, praising Mario’s drive to always do right by the city. He mentioned he was a businessman but never touched on what type. Every person there knew but didn’t say. We’d become a blanket of secrets that didn’t hide very well because we didn’t have to. Standing in plain sight was how our family worked now, loud and proud and full of power.
The priest mentioned Mario’s love for his family, his boys, and those he’d taken under his wing. Rome was just that, his brother’s son but someone he’d looked at as his own. Rome had been the one to kill him too.
Was that death for me or the family?
The lines were so blurred and mixed up at this point, I didn’t know.
We all made the sign of the cross and then the priest asked for last words. No one spoke.
Not Bastian. Not Cade. No one.
I stepped forward. I didn’t need to give Mario words of kindness, but everyone deserved love at their death.
“Mario knew, like we all do, that his blood was our blood. In his death, a part of all of us died.” I took a breath. “Let us pray.”
The priest cocked an eyebrow at me before he bowed his head along with most everyone.
Except Rome. His heavy, dark stare caught mine. My heart seized at the sadness I caught in his eyes. Heavy was the burden of a monster and a friend who had to take the life of the one he cared about.
His strong jawline flexed as I rolled my lips between my teeth, trying to keep in the emotions that were bubbling up. We’d complicated things beyond repair but my body still wanted to run to him, to feel his skin against mine, to find a way to be with him even if the bratva was where I belonged.
I cleared my throat and tore my gaze from him to stare at the casket. “Let us pray for ends that are cruel like Mario’s death and new beginnings that bring life and love between us all in this city. Let the demons he took to his grave find peace there and let the lessons he taught us take flight to bring light to his family. Let us all bind together to make sure his death wasn’t in vain. Amen.”
The men and women all dressed in black followed my prayer with the sign of the cross and more amens.
Rome stepped forward. No one said a word as we watched him hold his arm over the casket. He rolled his wrist, and the chain he always had under his sleeve dangled out and dropped onto his casket. Rome draped it over the smooth surface.
I gasped as I watched and covered my mouth when a sob almost escaped. Rome was letting go of some past he had with those rusted links. I knew his father had trained him with it, probably beat him with it, and he’d definitely hurt others with it. It was a symbol of his pain and the pain he inflicted on others, something that made him the monster he was. Maybe he felt the emotion, maybe he’d mourned the loss of the life he took too. He had to. He’d taken his father’s and now his uncle’s life, and most everyone had to see him as a ruthless animal.
I wanted to go to him.
Knew I couldn’t.
I wanted to mourn with him, for him, and by him, but knew I had to be stronger than my desires now. They normally led me astray anyway.
I let him stand on his own and give his gift to the dead.
As they lowered the casket, the chief of police walked over to me. He held his shoulders too high and his back too straight to be anyone but law enforcement. His stride held purpose and his bushy eyebrows frowned when he stopped right in front of me. “We haven’t formally met. Shall I introduce myself?”
In the past, the question would have been for the man whose arm I’d been placed on. I was used to men discussing their place around me but had never been approached as though my place mattered.
“No, I know your name.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Katalina.”
His eyes didn’t widen, not that I expected them to. Everyone knew by now. “Ivan never disclosed he had a granddaughter.”
“And yet you know all about me.”
“It’s my job to know those things. We should probably have a private conversation. It’s normally best to have an understanding.” He eyed me up and down and I immediately knew the type of man he was. He didn’t think I could hold my own and he was ready to make that known.
“Katalina doesn’t have private conversations unless she requests them. Even when she does, you can believe I or someone similar to me will be present.” The deep timbre of Rome’s voice still sent shivers up my spine even though he’d been the one to take the life that warranted this funeral. We were burying the man he’d murdered and still my heart beat faster knowing he was right beside me.