Chapter 37
I will carry the guilt of Cole’s death with me forever. It’ll haunt my dreams as well as my waking thoughts. He had so much life to live, he had so many aspirations for the future. For him to just be snuffed out like that feels beyond cruel.
“He wouldn’t have even been here if it wasn’t for me.” My words break the fragile silence that’s settled over the bathroom. After doing a sweep of the house, Logan had dismissed Alex and locked the door before herding me upstairs where he bundled me into a bath while he showered Peter's blood away before joining me.
“It’s not your fault, Abigail. Listen to me. Peter has been up to shady shit for a while now; it was only a matter of time before shit blew up in our faces. I’m so fucking sorry. Blame me. Take it out on me, but please, don’t blame yourself. Lay it at my feet. Don’t take this on.” He clutches me closer to his chest, as if I’ll float away without him grounding me.
Leaning my head back against his chest, I soak in his strength as I let the tears flow.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to play the part of a strong mafia wife, but for tonight, I’ll break apart in my Viking’s arms. Never again will I be caught so off guard. So unprepared.
Over my dead fucking body.
One week.
Seven days.
One hundred and sixty-eight hours.
A lifetime and yet also a blink of an eye.
Everything moved both at a snail's pace and lightning quick after Cole’s death. Logan got in contact with Jonathan to break the news that night and by the next morning the compound was swarmed with Four Points men, ready to bury their heartbreak in bloodlust. From there, Jonathan managed everything for Liam and Aidan who were practically comatose with grief.
At the same time, as Logan cleared out Peter’s things, he uncovered just how deep Peter's ties to the human trafficking ring went and just what awaited me if he had managed to get me away from the compound that night. Cole saved me from more than he’ll ever know, and the fact I couldn’t save him is something I’ll have to live with. Forever.
Watching Aidan and Liam—two of the strongest men I know—struggle to carry Cole’s coffin feels like a knife to my heart. They never wanted him to come with me, and now, as we stand watching his coffin lowered into the ground, surrounded by a sea of Four Points and Clan men, it’s all I can do to keep my grief from bringing me to my knees.
Cora and Lily stand on either side of me, each fighting back tears as we cling to each other with white-knuckled grips. Behind me, Logan and Alex offer their silent strength, grounding me in the midst of this overwhelming loss.
Cole Finlay truly embodied what it meant to be part of this family. He was strong, fearless, and unapologetically cocky, a combination that either had people rolling their eyes or swatting him upside the head. Things won’t be the same without him, and judging by the sheer number of men with tears in their eyes, it’s clear he’ll be missed by everyone who knew him.
“We are gathered here today to lay to rest one of our own,” Jonathan begins, his voice steady, though his hard gaze reveals the storm raging beneath. “Cole Thomas Finlay—beloved brother, protector, and son to many. He will be missed every day, and his memory will live on. We will get our justice, our revenge. He has not died in vain, and we will not let it be in vain.”
“To Cole!” Alex shouts, his voice cutting through the sombre air. The crowd echoes his words in unison, the collective cry carrying the weight of their grief. Silence follows, heavy and profound, as Liam steps forward.
“I’m a man of few words,” Liam says, his voice thick with emotion. “But if anyone deserves them, it’s my baby brother. When our parents died, I swore to protect him, and I let him down. But mark my words: I will get my revenge. Your murderer might be dead, but this doesn’t end with him. From this moment forward, every move I make is for you, Cole. Everything. I love you, brother.” His voice breaks on the last word, and with his head bowed, he steps back, trading places with Aidan.
“Cole was everything good in this life,” Aidan begins, his voice firm but laced with pain. “Everyone who knew him loved him. He begged us to let him join as soon as he was old enough, and he wasted no time climbing the ranks. Now I wonder if I shouldn’t have fought harder to send him to college, to let him live a bit first. But I can’t change the past. What I can do is live for him. I love you, baby brother.”
With trembling hands, Aidan removes his father’s watch, the one Cole always wanted, and places it gently on the coffin. “You always begged me for this, and I was too selfish to give it to you. It’s yours now. Rest easy, brother.”
As he steps back, the crowd bows their heads, following the minister in prayer. The words blur in my mind, overwhelmed by the ache of loss and the finality of the moment.
Turning to follow Jonathan, I tug Cora and Lily along, giving the brothers their privacy with the coffin. But I nearly slam into Jonathan’s back when he stops abruptly.
“What’s going—” I start, but my words falter when Cora gasps in shock, and Jonathan chokes out a single, incredulous word: “Helen?”
Leaning around the wall of Jonathan’s broad frame, I freeze, my own gasp catching in my throat.
At the edge of the cemetery stands a woman who looks like she’s been on the run for months. Her clothes are torn, her face bruised, and her arms streaked with dried blood. She looks battered but unmistakably alive.
Helen Montgomery.
In the flesh.
Risen from the dead.
What the actual fuck?