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3
Wylder
I tuggedat the black tie around my neck. It felt like a noose, slowly choking off the air to my lungs. I loosened the knot, but that didn’t do much.
The tie wasn’t the problem—I was. I’d been on edge since the moment the lid on that crate had popped open to reveal my brother’s mutilated body, sent by Xavier.
I gazed at the freshly dug grave and the casket that’d just been lowered into it. It was made of polished mahogany with embellishments along the edges. Nothing but the finest for my brother.
We’d only just made it back to the city in time to change our clothes into something more fitting and get to the ceremony before it started. Dad had been eyeing me from the moment I’d gotten here, with an expression like he wanted to lay into me but wouldn’t in this kind of company.
Or maybe it was Mercy, standing next to me, that he was shooting his periodic death glare at. He probably didn’t want her here after he’d done so much to drive her out of our lives, but she was back, and she was staying. Dad would have a fight on his hands if he tried to challenge me on that subject again.
I couldn’t stop my mind from tripping back a few hours ago to the immense mansion where the man who called himself the Long Night had held his impromptu meeting with us and made his demands. Did Dad have any idea that he’d been working under someone else all his life, while he made such a show of being the head honcho? How the hell was I going to tell him what I’d learned? I could only imagine how pissed off he’d be… if he even believed me.
Now, at the priest’s direction, he dropped a handful of dirt onto the coffin. Anthea stepped forward too, her expression tight. I wondered how she felt about all this. She’d never talked much about my brother, but I knew she’d grown up alongside him, much closer to his age than mine, more like siblings than aunt and nephew. But then she’d been sent into that horrible marriage and Roland had taken off… The opening of the crate was the first time she’d seen him since his disappearance, just like it was for me.
Like usual, she kept her emotions close to her chest. But as she stepped back, she quickly swiped at her eyes.
Then it was my turn. The sun-warmed soil was gritty against my fingers, and it fell onto the polished surface with a faint patter.
As I stepped back, a fresh wave of guilt surged over me. A part of me had always thought Roland would come back. There’d been times early on when I’d wished he would so Dad would lay off on me. But after everything that’d happened with Laurel, I’d lived in horror of the idea all the same. I hadn’t wanted my brother to swoop in and take what was mine after I’d sacrificed so much for it.
And now he was gone. There was no way he’d ever return to us for any reason. No way I could have my brother back and see if we could fix our broken relationship.
The priest said his prayer. The Nobles who’d gathered for the ceremony listened in silence, a few of them poised farther back from our circle to stand guard. When the prayers were over, Dad took his spot to speak.
He cleared his throat, revealing more emotion in that sound than he usually showed in an entire month. “He was my son, my blood. I wanted so much more than this for him. He was born to be exceptional, and we’ll never see how much of that promise he might have fulfilled if he’d come back to us another way.” His voice caught. He lowered his head for a moment to gather himself. “You will never be replaced or forgotten.”
I didn’t want to take his words personally, but they felt like a jab directed at me, a reminder of the fact that he didn’t consider my performance as his heir to be particularly promising.
As Dad stepped back, he made a motion for the grave to be filled in. My pulse stuttered.
“Wait,” I said. “I want to say something for my brother.”
All eyes turned to me. Dad’s face hardened a fraction, and his lips thinned. Ignoring him, I took his place at the head of the grave.
The words started slowly and then tumbled out. “I can’t talk about Roland the way I’d want to because we weren’t really all that close. He was five years older than me, and always committed to helping Dad manage the family business.” Until he hadn’t been, I didn’t mention. “But the times he did spare to hang out with me always stuck in my mind. I wanted to be just like him. And then, when he left, I realized he’d been doing even more than I’d ever noticed, never letting the stresses or challenges of the work affect how he treated me.”
I took a deep breath as memories rushed up inside me. The relief that’d been mixed in with my horror at seeing Roland’s body had been nothing to do with him. It’d been Dad’s fault, like so much else. He was the one who’d pitted me against my brother by bringing out the threat of his possible return whenever he felt I’d screwed up, comparing me to him at every turn.
I peered down at the coffin, wishing I totally believed that my brother’s spirit might be around to hear this. “Roland, there are a lot of things I wish I could go back and change—one of them being trying harder to bring you home and fix our relationship. I let us both down. But I won’t now.” I raised my hand, clenched into a fist. “I will avenge you.”
Soft murmurs spread through the small crowd at my declaration. Dad was looking at me with an unreadable expression. Only the pit of the grave separated us.
The priest murmured another prayer before a few men took up spades to fill in the grave. I went back to Mercy, who slipped her hand around mine and gave me a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Dad’s cool gaze lingered on us. The rest of my inner circle must have noticed, because the three guys drew a little closer around us as if they thought we needed protection.
Which, given how Dad had acted over the past several weeks, might not be wrong.
But it turned out it wasn’t him we needed to defend against. Just as we were about to walk back to the cars, several sharpbangscrackled through the air.
Gunshots.
The guards shouted in alarm, as if we needed a warning to realize we were under attack. I ducked instinctively, pulling Mercy toward the ground with me and reaching for the gun at my waist.
The priest who’d performed the ceremony toppled over onto the freshly churned soil, blood gushing from multiple bullet wounds. A few of the underlings at the edges of the gathering were crumpling among those rushing for cover.
A bunch of men with rifles hurtled toward us over the rise of a nearby hill, taking more shots seemingly indiscriminately. I aimed to shoot back at them, but there were too many of our own people milling around. None of us had been prepared for an assault on this scale, not here during a fucking funeral. There was nothing but gravestones to take shelter behind, and our attackers had the high ground.
