Chapter 28
IVY
July is the hottest month on record according to the weather app I read this morning.
Not for me.
I’m cold.
I’ve been cold for the past week and a half ever since I got the call. A nervous nurse stumbled over her words, telling me my mom had run into a complication. Her heart gave out.
She passed away just after ten at night.
I’ve been cold ever since.
At my feet lies the black marble gravestone paid for by Ruslan. Gold ink swirls across the marble, displaying the message that took me five days to decide on.
Here lies Jane Meyer, beloved wife and mother.
A heart that touched many. Until we meet again.
Just underneath, another line of text reads,
Here lies Camden Meyer, beloved husband and father
A life well lived, missed by all.
I don’t know what strings Ruslan pulled to get my father’s ashes from the NYPD morgue, but burying them alongside my mother doesn’t bring me the peace I hoped.
They’re both gone.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
Despite the warmth in the air, the wind that rushes past makes me shiver and I huddle tighter into the black coat draped over my shoulders.
Fresh dirt shifts ever so slightly in front of my eyes and the petals of the flowers laid at the headstone rise and flutter in the breeze.
The scent of freshly cut grass fills the air, along with the subtle hint of oak from a nearby tree.
I stare at the text and my eyes blur.
How could she leave me? How could she lie there for weeks and not open her eyes once? Could she not tell I was there? Could she not tell that her daughter needed her?
How did we even reach this point?
I’ll never know if she knew the truth about Dad, but I pray she didn’t. If she did, I pray she forgives me for burying them next to each other.
Numbness grew in my chest from the moment Ruslan pulled me into his arms the night I got the news, and it’s spread ever since. Even as tears roll down my cheeks, there’s no pain in my chest or my heart. I feel nothing but cold, like my bones are turning to ice and chilling my body at the same time.
I close my eyes.
The tears continue.
It feels like only yesterday we were sitting around the kitchen table while I filled them in on my latest flight and shared my excitement for the next country I was getting to visit.
Mom would tell me to give up my apartment and come home for good since it was a waste of money to pay for a place I never spent time in.
Dad would tell me that it’s good to be independent, but having me home is the highlight of his month.
It feels like yesterday and at the same time, it feels like it was so long ago.
I try to picture their faces, but all I see are the blood and bruises covering Mom’s face. Dad’s face is a blur.
The tears come faster. Thicker. Suddenly, I can’t breathe with how clogged up my nose has become, and my legs give way. I’d hit the ground if not for Ruslan.
He’s right at my side, his arms tight around me, and he catches me as I fall. We land on the grass together, Ruslan on his knees and me in his lap as I sob and sob, unable to word anything.
I should thank him for pulling this funeral together, but I can’t.
Thanking him makes this all too real.
Each breath is a trembling gasp, each sob tears out of me with such force that the cracks appear in the numbness surrounding my heart.
It hurts.
God, it fucking hurts.
By the time my tears dry and my breath comes back to me easily, the sky has darkened and the sun sits low in the sky, sending its rays through the tree next to me and caressing the new headstone with long, amber fingers.
The sunlight makes the gold ink glow, and I watch as the drifting leaves cause the shadows to caress the headstone.
“I want to go home,” I croak, speaking for the first time since we arrived here hours ago.
“Are you sure?” Ruslan’s voice is low and soft, hovering close to my ear as he remains steadfast on his knees while holding me close. “We can stay as long as you need.”
“I’m cold.” The warmth in the air doesn’t reach me and a shiver pulls sharply down my spine while I stand with Ruslan’s help.
“I’ll take you home.” As he steps to the side, the other members of the Suit come into view.
Bradley, clad in a black suit, stands the furthest away at the end of the gravel path leading to the road.
He’s a tall, broad man who looks capable of ripping the nearby tree up from its roots.
Valentina stands near him in a black dress that wraps around her body in swooping lines from her shoulder to her waist. There’s a slight bulge where her gun rests.
Cassian is close by, his eyes misty as he stands with one hand over his wrist dressed in a black shirt that strains over his shoulders each time he moves.
Just behind him is Raven, her attention fixed on me and her eyes heavy with sorrow.
She helped me dress this morning when I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I still can’t believe they came.
Five strangers stand between me and the road, five people with more power and skill than I can comprehend, and somehow, they’re all here for me. They barely know me and yet they came.
I didn’t ask them to. I didn’t ask anyone, not even Moira.
But they came.
Ruslan draws me from my thoughts by offering me his black leather-clad hand. I take it, finding little comfort in the warmth radiating from him, but the touch is grounding. I just need to make it to the car.
As we start to walk, he gently clears his throat and it seems to be a signal to the others who gradually fall in step around me as we walk toward the black iron gates.
“Do you think she’ll be cold?” I ask hoarsely, dabbing at my eyes. “In the ground?”
“No,” Ruslan replies gently. “She won’t be cold. The lining of her coffin is thick. I made sure.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did.”
“Thanks.”
Ruslan’s hand tightens around mine.
Each step is like walking through sludge, as if the chill deep in my bones is delaying the signals from my mind to my limbs.
How can they both be gone? It doesn’t make any sense. She was supposed to wake up. I was supposed to get answers from her and hold her while she recovers. She was supposed to be part of my new future.
“It’s too much,” I whisper as we approach the looming gates. “It’s all too much.”
“I can carry you,” Ruslan says, misunderstanding my meaning.
“No, it’s…” I stop dead, kicking up some gravel underfoot.
Everyone else pauses around me. “My parents are d-dead. Why? All of this because of an affair? Or because of some drugs?” Finally, I lift my head and meet Ruslan’s dark eyes.
“Tell me it’s not meant to be this way. Tell me I’ve paid enough. Tell me it’s over… please.”
Ruslan’s eyes move back and forth over my face, then he steps closer and cradles the back of my head with his other hand. As he leans in close, his breath warms my forehead then his lips press a single kiss just between my brows.
“It feels like too much, but life runs fast and hot in this world.”
“I never wanted to be a part of this world.”
Ruslan’s lips linger for a second, then he pulls back and slides his hand down to my shoulder. “I will get to the bottom of this, Ivy. I will get you the answers you need, I promise you.”
“The answers won’t make me feel better.”
Pain flashes in Ruslan’s eyes and he nods slowly, his lips pressing into a firm line. Before he can say anything else, though, a sudden hum of car engines fills the air.
His hand tightens in mine for a moment, then suddenly, Cassian is pressed against my other side and Valentina appears in front of me.
Peering past her shoulder, Bradley has taken several steps away from us and arrives at the curb first. Several black sedans pull up from either side of the road, but they lack the silver trim around the windows that I’m used to seeing in all of the cars Ruslan uses.
Our walk slows to a stop, and Ruslan takes a half-step in front of me, positioning himself with his shoulder in front of me. Leaning against him, I rise onto my tiptoes for a better look.
Car doors open and numerous men and women spill out of the vehicles, but there’s a distinct difference between the two groups.
Those on the left are dressed in smart gray suits with white shirts and gleaming sunglasses that reflect the world back at me. Each suit appears to move like liquid around its wearer as if every single one has been tailor-made to fit the individual.
The people on the right are dressed more casually in loose slacks, shirts ranging from plaid to yellow, and several of them have arms covered in tattoos visible by their rolled-up sleeves.
Bradley doesn’t flinch. He gazes from one group to the other, then slides one hand into his pants pocket and his stance relaxes.
“If you think the number of people you’ve brought is any kind of threat to me, then you are sorely mistaken,” Bradley says.
Ruslan leans slightly back into me, and I clutch tighter at his shoulder, trying to work out what the fuck is going on.
“Do you really think you would win here?” comes a thin voice from inside one of the vehicles on the left.
The man who climbs out almost doesn’t match the voice.
He’s well built with slicked back black hair and a white shirt that, despite its visible gold detail along the seams, strains at his arms as if it’s a size too small.
“Nico,” Bradley says. “Tell me you haven’t fallen far enough to think that the five of us are the only people here?”
Nico glances over his shoulder at his men, then casually looks back at Bradley, but he takes his time as if scanning the surrounding graveyard for hidden people.
I do the same. We came here without security, but knowing Ruslan, we’re definitely not alone.
“I came here as a courtesy,” Nico remarks. “For the six of you.”
My heart jumps suddenly into my throat. Ruslan doesn’t move a muscle.
“To a graveyard?” Bradley’s deep voice lowers like a rumble of thunder.
“There’s no courtesy to be had here and you know it.
And to arrive with them?” He jerks his head back to the group of tattooed men and women lingering around the second set of cars.
“The fact that you’re not trying to kill each other tells me all I need to know. ”
“We’re not here to start a fight,” a voice laced with a Russian accent speaks up. I quickly scan the crowd but can’t locate whoever spoke. “We got no issue with the Suits.”
Bradley doesn’t even look their way.
“I don’t have an issue with you either,” Nico says. “But I wanted to tell you in person that my family have found common ground with the Sidorovs.”
“Does that common ground equal peace?” Bradley asks. Despite the threat, his stature remains relaxed.
“Yes,” Nico replies. “Peace is the new way forward on one condition.”
Ruslan’s grip grows painful with how tightly he holds on to me.
Somehow, Nico’s eyes dart to me and lock on even through the wall created by Valentina and Cassian. “We want the girl. And we want her dead.”