Page 180 of Barinov

“Oh my God,” I whisper, hand flying to my mouth to stifle a sob.

“DeShawn,” Rez mumbles, moving like he’s in a dream. His hand trembles as he brushes the cheek of his fallen Hollow King.

“I-I’m sorry,” Lex sobs as he continues to cradle DeShawn’s cooling weight. “I didn’t know it was—” His voice cracks. “I didn’t know.”

Rez leans into Lex, wrapping a steady arm around his shoulders and drawing both Lex and DeShawn closer.

“I know,” Rez whispers, pressing his forehead into Lex’s damp hair. “I know.”

The crunch of gravel announces Roman and Daniel before they appear. Their shadows stretch over the three of them. Daniel’s eyes meet Rez’s for a split second before moving toward Lex.

“We need to move him, son,” Daniel says, his voice a low anchor in the storm of Lex’s sobbing.

He kneels down, his large hands moving with heartbreaking tenderness as he eases DeShawn’s weight from his son’s grip. He rises with a quiet grunt, cradling the limp body against his chest.

Daniel glances down at the small, broken circle of Hollow Kings and nods toward the exit.

“Let’s get him home.”

♥♥♥

St. Patrick’s Cathedral - New York City

70 days since Bella’s kidnapping.

The massive bronze doors of the cathedral groan as they swing open, letting a sudden shaft of daylight cut through the dim, incense-heavy air.

Ellie hooks her arm through mine as we stand with the rest of the congregation. My eyes lock on the silhouette framed in the doorway. The priest meets them at the entrance, draped in white vestments. He sprinkles holy water over the mahogany box, the droplets looking like falling diamonds against the dark wood.

Then the walk begins.

Lex and Rez refused professional pallbearers. They wanted to do it themselves. And since DeShawn’s father was a Hollow King back in the day, he agreed. He intended to be the sixth man. But when the moment came, the weight of the wood was nothing compared to the weight of the loss.

He couldn’t do it. So Khoza silently stepped in.

The priest leads them, the gold of his crucifix glinting in the candlelight like a flickering star. But my gaze stays on them. The Hollow Kings. Six men of varying heights forced into a synchronized gait by the sheer weight of their fallen brother. All of them dressed in the same black suits with a red band over their left bicep. The Hollow Kings’ crest embroidered on it in black and gold thread.

As they pass our row, I hear the faint thud of their boots on the marble floor and the slight creak of the casket’s handles.

Lex is on the front left. His knuckles bone-white as he grips the silver bar. Jaw set so tight I’m afraid his teeth are going to crack. They look like a moving fortress, a solid block of grief carving a path through the center of the cathedral until they reach the altar.

When they finally set him down, the sound of the wood settling on the stand echoes through the vaulted ceilings like a gavel.

The Kings peel away to their seats on the front row, collapsing into the space next to DeShawn’s parents. They leave him there, alone in the center aisle, covered in a white pall. A blank canvas in a room full of shadows.

“Please be seated.”

A heavy, collective rustle fills the room as we all sink into the pews.

“The Lord is my shepherd…” the priest begins. His voice is smooth but begins to blur as I narrow my focus on the back of Lex’s head. At the way the light from the altar candles catch the stray, messy strands of his hair.

The way I can see more than grief rippling off of him. Off of all of them.

“He maketh me lie down in green pastures.”

I scoff.

“Cade,” Ellie hisses as her elbow digs deep into my rib.