Chapter 69
Ares
“Bury the Past, Rule the Future”
The Rolls-Royce came to a slow stop. Black on black. Bulletproof. Presidential. Tint so dark the world didn’t exist until the door opened. Tommy stepped out first. Security spread without a word. I adjusted my cuff and stepped out.
Cold air.
Rain.
Heavy energy.
France knew how to bury its kings.
Yuna stepped out behind me.
Black veil. Black dress. Everything about her said money, silence, and don’t ask questions.
I reached back. She placed her hand in mine as Tommy handed me an umbrella.
We walked slowly.
Every eye followed.
Not just because of Marcel.
Because of me.
When we got inside, the cathedral was full.
Packed in a way that felt orchestrated, not chaotic.
Family. Politicians. Old money. New money. Street soldiers dressed like they were uncomfortable.
And enemies.
The silent ones.
The kind that don’t speak but always show up to funerals like this.
I clocked all of them.
Faces.
Positions.
Who avoided eye contact.
Who stared too long.
Marcel always said, "Remember names and faces… the loud ones are easy, it’s the quiet ones you gotta watch.
I remembered.
Every last one.
Because they all knew what this was.
Laurent stood off to the side.
Dressed in black like the rest of us… but he ain’t blend in.
He never did.
Different kind of energy.
Too comfortable for a jealous man who just lost his access to everything.
My eyes locked on him.
He felt it.
Turned slow… like he already knew I was watching.
A faint smirk touched his mouth.
Yeah.
He knew what came with Marcel being in that box.
No more protection.
No more free money.
No more moving how he wanted without answering to me.
I held his gaze.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t move.
Just let him feel it.
You’re on borrowed time, I thought.
He looked away first.
Let him plot.
Let him move.
Let him think he got space.
In the end… he gon’ do one of two things.
Bow down…
or die.
Yuna’s hand stayed in mine as we moved down the aisle.
I glanced at her.
Behind her veil, she was composed.
But my eyes dropped.
Just for a second.
To her body.
To the way she held herself.
Subtle.
Protective.
She’s been hiding something from me.
From everybody.
She would turn when I touched her. Cover her stomach. Blame her bloating on eating.
I ain’t say nothing.
But I knew.
And that knowing sat heavy in my chest.
I looked forward again.
Not here.
Not now.
The casket sat at the front.
Closed.
A man like Marcel doesn’t get displayed; he gets remembered.
I stood there for a second.
Not grieving.
Not broken.
Just… acknowledging.
It was done.
Everyone made their speeches. I listened. I watched my mother say two sentences and stepped down. She was over it.
When it was my turn to speak, I stepped forward.
Everybody was watching.
Waiting.
Measuring.
“Marcel Delacroix wasn’t a perfect man. He was a man who lived by what generations before him had taught him. He wasn’t soft, he wasn’t easy, and he damn sure wasn’t weak. He built something that most of you in this room benefited from.
Some of you got rich because of him. Some of you stayed alive because of him. And some of you are only here to make sure he’s really gone.
He taught me how to move, how to read people, and how never to let emotions cost me power. But the most important thing he taught me… was to finish what you start.
So understand this.
Just because he’s gone… doesn’t mean anything stopped. I finish everything.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody tested what I said.
I stepped back and didn’t look for approval.
I walked from the podium and reached for Yuna’s hand again.
I held it tighter this time.
Possessive.
Grounding.
We turned and walked out of the church.
Past my new team.
Past the men who owed us.
Past the ones who hated us.
I felt all of it.
At the top, it was lonely.
And they all knew it.
Because now, there was nobody left above me.
Working on book two…