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Turning away, my gaze falls on Rook’s grandmother when I open my eyes again, her anguished face framed by a halo of wispy white hair under the black lace covering her head. Tears stream down her wrinkled cheeks and her gaze is fixed on the casket that holds her beloved grandson. Beside her stands Anna-Vittoria, offering a supportive arm to the elderly woman.
I did this. It’s my fault her grandson was murdered.
“Mrs. Laguardia,” I say softly, approaching her with a respectful nod. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Rook—I mean, Rocco…he was…” I can’t say any more, afraid I’ll break down right here in front of people who blame me—rightly—for Rook’s death.
“Fabrizio.” She embraces me, actually smiling through her tears. “You were a brother to him. He always spoke so highly of you.” She grips my hand fiercely, glaring into my face, and drops her voice, speaking in Italian now. “You find them, Fabrizio. You find them and make them suffer like my boy did. The old ways, eh? Blood for blood.”
Her words are vicious, full of fire—and they lift me up. I bow deep, touching my forehead to the back of her hand, before replying in the same language. “I promise you justice, according to the old ways. Blood for blood.”
“Good,” she says, her voice firm. “You’re a good boy, Fabrizio.”
As I step back, giving Max the opportunity to pay his respects to Mrs. Laguardia as well, a surge of resolve wipes away any impulse to cry. This woman has lost her grandson, but she still believes in the code we live by. I’m bound by honor to fulfill my promise to her.
Blood for blood.
* * *
The vigil service begins shortly after Max and I find seats, not with the crew, but a little way back in the church. When I’m called on to deliver my eulogy, I find my hands trembling slightly, clutching tightly to the piece of paper containing the useless words I finally settled on this morning.
I nod at the priest as I take the pulpit, scanning the faces of my crew again. Honeybee dabs at her eyes with a tissue while Tank stares straight ahead, stone-faced. Pony looks pale and uncomfortable. Van gives me an encouraging nod.
I unfold the speech I prepared, but the words blur together. “Rocco Laguardia,” I begin, but I can’t go on. This is all wrong. I crumple the paper up again and shove it in my pocket.
“We called him Rook. And he was more than a friend to me. He was a brother.” I pause, searching for the right words. “His bravery and loyalty were unmatched, and he made an impact on every single one of us here today who had the privilege to meet him. Now don’t get me wrong—he wasn’t perfect. He liked to get under my skin. Drove me crazy sometimes,” I admit, a grin forcing its way onto my face despite myself—and the answering murmur of soft laughter from the crowd feels like a pressure valve release. “But he hadsomuch heart. And he had this ability to make you feel like everything was going to be okay, no matter how bad it got. That smile of his—God, I’m gonna miss his smile.”
I hear Honeybee trying to stifle a sob. Even Tank’s stoic mask cracks as he puts his arm around her and looks at me, finally.
“I’m gonna miss Rook like—you’ll have to excuse me, Father,” I add over my shoulder to the priest, “—but I’m gonna miss him likehell. It’s not fair that he’s gone so soon. Losing him…” I stop and take a breath. “Losing him has reminded me how fragile all this is. How you gotta make the most of the time you got on this earth, make sure the people you love know that you love them.” I search for Max, find him. His eyes are full of understanding. “So we’re gonna honor Rook by living each day to the fullest. And I’d like to ask you all to do the same. For Rook.”
As the crowd murmurs their appreciation for my speech, I add one last thing—silently, a vow to God.
And when I find the bastards who took him from us, I’ll make them regret the day they were born.
As I step away from the podium, the room seems to give a sigh with me, of release, of grief, of letting go. At least I honored Rook’s memory with my words.
At least I could do that for him.
* * *
After the service is done, when the crowd is milling around getting ready to head to the cemetery, Van approaches me. He hesitates for a moment before speaking, looking around as if to make sure we won’t be overheard. Max has stepped away for a moment, telling me he wanted to have a look at the crowd, see if anyone was here who maybe shouldn’t be. Smart.
“Bricker,” Van says quietly, glancing nervously around again. He pulls me aside, fidgeting with his tie. “I gotta talk to you. In private. Without that goddamn Castellani shadow of yours?”
“Sure,” I reply cautiously. I follow him to a side room, wary. Van and I have barely spoken since I last saw him at the hospital, and I can’t take another fight with a friend right now. On top of that, Pony’s intel weighs on my mind. But this might be a good time to clear Van from suspicion, ask him about that text he got on the day of the heist.
We slip out of the main hall and into a small side room, the heavy door muffling the sounds of the crowd outside.
“The thing is, Bricker,” Van starts, pacing the small room, “what you said out there—that we need to, uh—that we need to make the most of our time? It’s true. And seeing Rook like that, it’s…God. It’s made me think hard, you know?” He yanks at his collar, agitated. “Life’s too damn short to waste time.” He stops and looks at me intently, and for a horrible moment I think he’s going to tell me he’s the mole. “I should’ve told you how I felt years ago. But I was scared. Scared you didn’t feel the same. That it would mess up our friendship.”
Oh, shit. My stomach drops. “Van,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I love you, Bricker Soldano. As more than a friend, or a brother. I’minlove with you. Have been for a long time.”
I’m stunned into silence. Van? My best friend—mystraightfriend—has feelings for me?
He swallows hard. “So…I guess…ah, fuck it.”
Before I can react, Van grabs my face between both hands and presses his lips against mine. The kiss is rough, desperate, and completely unexpected. My body freezes up as my mind tries to process what the hell is happening.
