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This is a private issue that I’ll be dealing with on my own. If his effects weren’t taken, which I know they weren’t, because his wedding ring was still on, that means his killer took it. “No, thank you. I will handle the matter.”
“Please, no more violence.” My temper boils instantly and I want to grab him by his collar, but I don’t.
I tilt my neck, cracking it and taking a cool, calming breath before I address a man of faith. “Just worry about saying the prayers, father. My soul isn’t asking for saving.”
We move to the front pews while my men stay at the entrance of the church. Our seats are just feet from my family as we go over what will happen in the next hour. I can’t stop glancing their way, hoping this is just a nightmare, even though I know it’s not.
It’s not long before the church bells begin to go off.
“Mourners will arrive shortly.” And so will a traitor.
My family will not have the honored ceremony they deserve because their bodies do not need to be seen in such disgrace. All prayers and blessings will be at the burial. I will not host a gathering for mourners, as I will not break bread with my enemy.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a small reception, Mr. Semyonov?” the priest asked as I stood next to the caskets of my beloved family.
“Someone butchered my family, and I refuse to pretend that this a good death or to share stories of my little brother with anyone,” I bite out with more anger than I should give the man, doing his duty to my family and to God.
“Yes, forgive me. I understand your wishes, Mr. Semyonov.” About damn time. I hate to repeat myself and this isn’t something that was up for discussion. My family will be remembered when the time is right. For now, it would have to wait. I had a murderer to find.
“Leave me,” I order all of them in a calm voice. The priest and my men step from the church altar, leaving me alone. Dropping to my knees, I send up a benediction that they find peace and their souls aren’t searching the earth for long. I stand and place a kiss on top of each of their caskets.
The warmth that had made me strong for my entire life has frozen over and will now destroy anyone that dares challenge me, as the Russian winter has done to many. Even though I’ve turned to ice, I feel more dangerous than ever.
My men accompany the church members to bring my family to their final resting place. I’m the last in my line and it shouldn’t have been that way. Holding back all emotion, I steady myself and follow behind the final casket of my little brother.
Slowly, the mourners gather around the dedicated burial, where the snow falls all around. My mother loved the freshly fallen snow, and my brother loved to practice tossing snowballs at my father and his men as he learned to aim, which made them all proud. He was everything sweet and strong, mixed all in one. I will miss them so damn much.
There were more lives lost that day, but none of them mattered much to me. My father had lost ten men in the raid on the home, but their services were held while I was gone. I did send care packages to those who had families and thanked them for putting up a fight. It probably didn’t mean much to them when they lost someone they loved, but it was my duty.
The priest begins his long eulogy of my family, starting with my beloved mother, who had the heart of an angel. I hold back all my emotions from the tears to the rage.
As Russians, we don’t show emotion except for the women and small children that have come. My mother’s best friend clings to her child, and I look at her, knowing that she’s breaking inside for more than just my mother’s loss, but a mother’s loss in general.
Alek and Ivan stand close to me, looking every so often at those in the crowd. There are at least a hundred mourners here. All of them are close to the family in one way or another. Ivan’s mother and sisters have come to give their support.
I see my father’s long-time friend Vladimir Volchek standing alongside his son, who is about my age of thirty. We used to be friends as kids, but we were raised with different values and I wanted nothing to do with him by the time we were fifteen.
The eldest Vlad doesn’t meet my gaze, which surprises me only because of all people he shouldn’t feel intimidated. Volchek’s empire is larger than my father’s, now mine. The way the muscle in his jaw ticks raises the hair on the back of my neck.
Still, I move my attention to the rest of those here to pay their respects. There are several other families present, but it’s one face that I’m grateful to see even if I won’t show it.
My childhood friend Drago Romanov came all the way from the U.S. to be here. He’s a hulking beast of a man who says very little unless necessary. Right now his body says more than his words could. His eyes continue to roam around the attendees for the same reason I am. He knows that it is those who are the closest to us that could be a danger to us.
Of all my guests, Drago is the last person I’d expect because he has no interest in living in Russia again. A visit for business or pleasure is rare because the icy cold streets had ruined his love for his homeland. He hardly even speaks Russian intentionally. The United States is home now and he doesn’t have any intent on changing that. Even if he did, I couldn’t imagine him coming to Russia. Maybe he'd move somewhere in Europe.
I watch as his gaze drops on Volchek, lingering on his son as well. He looks longer than is polite, and I hope to hell that he isn’t right. Although he’s familiar with Volchek, even in minor business with him, he never cared for the man, which is wise. Could he know something I don’t or is it just Drago’s personality coming to the forefront?
A sinking feeling sets in my gut as the service comes to an end. My parents’ killer is here, and I’m very well acquainted with them.
Everyone passes around the coffins as the flowers and sticks are placed on my family to protect them in the afterlife. Theirbaddeath means they need help to go over to the other side, and I’ll make that happen when I get my revenge. I’m the last to drop them onto the caskets, and the finality of it hardens my heart.
“I will avenge you,” I whisper.
Once the service is over, Drago walks over toward me, sending the crowds parting like the Red Sea. We embrace as brothers, and he whispers in my ear, “If you need anything. I’ll be a call away, my brother.”
We separate and I nod. “I just might.” I will need his assistance in due time when I have more to add to the matter, but this isn’t the time or the place for such a discussion, given my heightened rage and suspicion.
As I’m about to address his visit, Volchek comes up to us. “Roman, my boy. I’m sorry about your loss,” Vlad says, interrupting our conversation intentionally.
