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He growls softly, “Si, he betrayed me. But you, Sophie Kellan,” He shakes his head in what looks like profound regret. “You know far too much.”
My heart pounds with the unspoken meaning behind those words. Funny, I always thought my mouth could get me out of any trouble, but now it seems it’s doing the opposite. I rush to clarify.
“I only guessed it because what happened to Leo is exactly what would happen to any Reaper Druid brother who turned coat or became a rat.”
“I understand,” he says, but his eyes remain cold, “Go.”
Oh shit. I’ve never seen Nico like this. “Are you not coming?”
“I'll be right there,” he assures.
I step into the hallway and walk, feeling Nico’s moody presence several steps behind me. As we reach the expansive common room, my apprehension about Nico disappears, my feet becoming like lead at the sight before me.
All the brothers of the Reaper Druids MC are gathered around Rafe’s open casket, shoulders hunched, faces pale, each chanting their final goodbyes.
Chapter Nine
Sophie
I’ve been to funerals before, and wakes held in this very clubhouse. Half a dozen, at least, probably more, some of them too far back for me to remember.
I’ve stood around caskets, just like this, with the surviving old ladies and club kids around me. Family, friends, all of us sharing in our common grief.
But this time, I feel alone.
It doesn’t matter that Nico is standing right beside me, so close I can feel his heat radiating against my cold skin, or that I’m surrounded by the same people I grew up with, the people I’ve laughed with, loved with, cried with.
I’m alone with a kind of grief that none of these people can understand. It rises like walls all around me, isolating and impenetrable.
None of the people here turned their backs on Rafe when he started dealing drugs on the side. None ignored him when he was arrested and tried. Not one of them refused to visit him in prison. Just me. Their grief is pure and simple. Mine is tainted with bitter regret. And it’s worse for me because I know if Rafe were here today, he’d forgive me in a heartbeat.
“Ride hard, live free, die with your boots on, brother,” I mutter.
Nice arm candy, I imagine I hear Rafe joke as I stare at his pale, still body right in front of me. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in four years.
I force a mental eye roll at him. He’s not arm candy; he’s a client.
But even I can hear how hollow that sounds. At least the MC's life, I understand. I know nothing about Nico Vitelli’s life. Three days ago, I didn’t even know who Nico Vitelli was. And now, something inside already tells me I won’t be able to turn my back on him.
Cade’s warning echoes in my ears again.
He’s ready to pull the trigger on anyone who betrays him.
From Nico’s earlier reaction, it’s likely he killed his best friend.
Maybe I should never have run away from who I am. Maybe if I was in Rafe’s life, he wouldn’t have strayed so far that even the club’s influence with law enforcement couldn’t save him from prison. Maybe I never would have crossed paths with Nico, who is no doubt infinitely more dangerous than Rafe ever was.
I cast a surreptitious glance at Nico as he, too, stares at Rafe, guilt and regret etched in his features. He doesn’t look like an angry Don; he looks like a man grieving. Here, he’s free from obligations and prying eyes. He can just be a man who lost a childhood friend and confidant he deeply loved.
Grease steps forward as tears slowly trickle down his weathered cheeks. I’ve never seen Rafe’s father cry before. Not even when his wife died. He reaches up and takes hold of the lid of the casket, his big, calloused hand trembling, and my breath catches in my throat. Grease closes the casket with a quiet thud, slightly hollow sounding. And then nothing.
Silence.
It’s done.
My chest shakes. I swallow back the sob that’s climbing up the back of my throat and take a deep, shaky breath, but it feels like there isn’t enough air.
I take another breath—and another—faster, trying to fill my lungs with oxygen that doesn’t seem to come.
