Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Navy Achebe
The columbarium didn't feel like a resting place.
It felt more like storage. A place for hundreds of Mancinellis who probably wreaked havoc during their time on earth to come once life caught up to them.
Rows of marble squares climbed toward the ceiling, each one sealed with a name in gold lettering, two dates that never felt long enough, a small oval photo, and the person's life reduced to a summary.
Talon deserved better than being stacked among made men when all he wanted was to be free.
Talon didn't want blood oaths or whispered meetings behind closed doors.
He wanted a life that didn't feel inherited, and in a few short hours, he would be locked in the same marble as men who swore loyalty to the cage he wanted to escape.
"Still too small," I mumbled, reciting my first thought when my mother showed me the urn days ago.
Talon's niche sat open in the third row, breaking the wall's perfection.
A folding table draped in white linen stood beneath it.
His urn rested in the center, matte black with a thin silver band around the lid.
The urn was too small to hold all the years I kept putting off fixing what broke between us as children. Now it was too late.
Two floral sprays framed his open niche.
On the left were my father's choice of deep red roses woven with black calla lilies.
It was tradition because Mancinellis didn't mourn.
They claimed. On the right were the flowers my mother and I chose: white orchids spilled over wild greenery.
They were less structured than my father's pick.
I had asked the florist to let them breathe.
I wanted them to look like they were growing past the marble because that was who Talon was.
A child of legacy who wanted to escape, and even in death, he was caught between the two.
"Navy."
The saddened tone pierced my heart as I turned to face my mother.
She stood, draped in her traditional Yoruba mourning attire.
Black lace iro and bubba fitted clean against her frame.
Her gele rose tall and precise, folded beautifully, with not a single pleat out of place.
In a room full of tailored Italian suits, she looked ancestral.
"Mommy, are you okay?" I asked, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
"I'm fine." She nodded.
"Okay. Your seat is over here."
I took her hand and guided her toward the three neat rows of chairs. Family in the front. Associates behind them and beyond that, anyone who showed up to say their final goodbye.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked once she sat down.
My mother had endured more than most women would survive at the hands of the man she married, yet she carried herself with the same untouchable composure as Lucian, with her legs crossed and shoulders squared, like grief had to ask permission before breaking her.
"I'm fine, Navy, truly." She smiled. "I would like to lay my son to rest and go home. You know how much being around Lucian and his henchmen makes my skin crawl."
"I'll check in with the director to see when everything will begin."
"Thank you, sweetie."
I nodded but couldn't pull my eyes away from hers. They were rimmed red and swollen, proof she'd already done her crying in private. Lucian taught all of us that collapsing in public wasn't tolerated, so she carried her sorrow with the same dignity she carried her culture.
"Navy." My eyes finally shifted from my mother to my girls, who were standing just behind the third row, waving me over. "Momma, I'm—"
"Go," she gently instructed. "They're here for you. Allow them to settle the disruption that's breaking your spirit. I'll be okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Navy, go!" she repeated, firmer this time. "Come back when your father arrives."
At the mention of Lucian, my chest tightened for many reasons.
"Okay." I rubbed the back of her hand as it slipped from mine, then reluctantly made my way toward Chosyn, River, and Honey. The only people in this room, aside from my mother, who loved me without conditions.
"My condolences," Honey offered, wrapping her arms around me.
Chosyn and River followed up with hugs and their own condolences.
"I really appreciate you three coming. I don't think I would’ve made it through this without y'all."
"That's what friends are for," River smiled, squeezing my hand.
"Is Honor coming?" Chosyn asked as she scanned the room.
"Nope." I shrugged. "I asked, he said no, and I left it at that."
Chosyn pressed her lips together but didn't push.
"Crown and Wolfe are outside parking the cars. They didn't want us having to troop it over here," Chosyn added.
That warmed my heart. If I couldn't have Honor here, Wolfe and Crown standing guard was the next best thing.
"I—"
The lone syllable slipped through my lips but died quickly.
The air shifted the way it always did when Lucian was around.
He moved toward the columbarium like he'd built it himself, wearing a tailored black suit cut perfectly against him.
Beside him was Choyce, dressed in a fitted black dress.
Cherish was tucked close to her side in a small dress that was identical to her mother's.
His eyes floated in my direction, causing my stomach to tighten.
"My daughter." He almost sounded tender.
Lucian pulled me into his chest, one hand firm against my back, the other cradling the back of my head as he pressed a kiss to my forehead. The gesture looked affectionate to anyone watching but felt strategic to me.
"Hey," I dryly responded once he let me go.
His eyes shifted to the women behind me. The second he looked at Chosyn, he grinned, slow and devilish, like he'd found some entertainment in a space meant for mourning.
"You must be Chosyn," he smoothly mused. "It's a pleasure to finally meet this version of you."
Chosyn didn't flinch. "It's funny because I preferred you meet no version of me."
River inhaled, standing a little closer to her than before.
Lucian's grin widened. He liked resistance.
"Choyce, did you hear what your sister said to me? You might want to hang around her a little more," he suggested, amused. "Spine is hard to come by these days."
"Integrity, too," Chosyn sweetly replied.
Lucian laughed.
"I like her," he stated before turning to Choyce. "Take Cherish and go sit next to my wife."
Choyce didn't argue. She walked toward the front row with Cherish trailing beside her.
"Wrap up your conversation. We'll be starting shortly."
Lucian moved toward the first row, men of all ages parting for him without being asked. I exhaled, feeling like my head was going to combust.
"I have to go," I told the girls.
"It's fine," River said.
"Are you going to be okay with him?" Chosyn asked.
I nodded.
"If you need me, just look back," she instructed, then added. "Oh, if you're up for it, we're going over to Honey's place. Maybe we can finally have that girls' night we keep trying to schedule."
"I will," I promised. "I'll meet you there."
Honey squeezed my arm. "We got you."
I nodded, then turned toward the front. My mother sat composed.
Choyce was two seats down, and Lucian was centered, sitting directly across from Talon's niche.
He stared at my brother's remains like a grieving father instead of the architect of all our family’s pain.
I took my seat beside my mother and slipped my hand into hers.
Her fingers trembled slightly. Lucian's presence always did that to her.
"I won't let him hurt you," I whispered to her.
She didn't look at me, refusing to break the composed mask she wore too well. The funeral director stepped forward, white gloves folded neatly over his clasped hands.
"Good afternoon. We gathered here to honor the life of Talon Mancinelli and to witness the placement of his remains."
The director continued speaking about remembrance, legacy, and how the niche behind him would serve as a permanent place for reflection. I kept my eyes on the open square, embarrassed that my brother had been reduced to a name and procedure.
"Today," he went on," we commit Talon to rest—"
The doors behind us opened, and every head turned.
Honor.
He stood at the entrance dressed in black, shoulders squared, and his jaw tightened like he'd walked into a battlefield instead of a memorial. His eyes scanned the room once before landing on me.
My breath caught.
Honor didn't rush making his way over, nor did he apologize for interrupting. He moved down the aisle with quiet confidence that parted the crowd without a word. Lucian noticed and smirked like a proud father.
The director briefly hesitated before continuing. "As we prepare to place Talon's remains—"
Honor stepped into the open seat beside me. The warmth of him settled against my side as he found my hand and threaded his fingers through. He lifted my knuckles and pressed his lips to the back of my hand, a promise that he had me.
The service was over. The plaque was sealed, and Talon was tucked inside the wall, safer than he'd been while living.
I stood near one of the columns, watching Honor as he conversed and shook hands with various men Lucian introduced him to.
They looked pleased, maybe even eager, like being seen with him meant something.
Honor's face remained hardened and stoic, as if he knew these men would never fully accept him.
"My condolences," Choyce quietly expressed, stepping beside me.
"I should be the one saying that to you," I replied. "I lost a brother, but you lost a husband, the father to your child."
Choyce scoffed. "He was an amazing father. I'll never take that away from him, but as far as being a husband… Talon fell short."
"He did the best he could under the circumstances."
Her head turned slowly. "How would you know? You weren't around. You didn't grow up in the devil's playground. Your weekend visits stopped long before I got there."
Her voice lowered but didn't soften.
"God forgive me for speaking ill of the dead, but Talon was a shitty husband.
Marrying me wasn't his choice, but him leaving me to deal with Lucian's disappointment in him?
" She gave a humorless laugh. "Was very much a choice.
One Talon made every chance he got without thinking twice about me. I have the scars to prove it."
Her words landed harder than I expected. "I'm sorry that—"
"Please," she huffed. "You're no better than your father, you know that? You both scarred me."
"You kissed my man. As far as I'm concerned, you got off light." My gaze dropped to her neckline. "Nice to see you healed nicely, though."
Choyce laughed, sounding almost impressed. Her eyes then drifted past me toward Honor, with a dangerous twinkle sparking in them.
"He shakes hands like he knows who's worth his loyalty and who isn't," she murmured.
"Careful," I warned.
"Why?" She squinted. "You think he wouldn't choose differently if the opportunity presented itself?"
I stepped closer until she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact.
"Your marriage isn't the blueprint for mine. I'll always be chosen."
"Marriage?" she repeated, eyes still locked on Honor. "That's cute."
Across the room, Lucian clapped Honor on the back as everyone laughed except Honor. Watching him stand there, I wasn't sure who'd Honor would pick if forced.
"That's the thing about men raised in cages," Choyce said, noticing my hesitation. "Eventually, they stop trying to escape. We embrace and step into who we're meant to be." Choyce brushed past me, muttering. "Enjoy your illusion, Navy."
I almost reached for her and dragged her ass back to beat her ass, but then I saw Honor walking toward me.
"You didn't have to come," I hummed once he reached me.
"Yes, I did. I wanted to make sure you were good before I headed to Brooklyn."
"Brooklyn?" My brows pinched.
"I have a meeting with Lucian."
I glanced toward the cluster of men surrounding my father.
"Is that what all of that was about?"
"Yeah. I'm taking over for Lucian."
"You what?" The words left louder than I intended, earning a few sharp glares.
Honor pulled me close, muffling my face with his chest.
"Not here," he lowly gritted.
I nodded, swallowing the panic crawling up my throat.
"I'm going to Honey's after I check on my mother," I told him.
"Want me to take you?"
"No, I'll drive myself, so you don't have to pick me up on your way back."
"Ight. I gotta go." Honor leaned down to kiss me. I let our lips touch, then pulled away faster than usual. He looked at me with questioning eyes but left it alone.
"Be safe," I called after him.
"Always." He smirked before turning to leave.
I faced the wall, reading Talon's plaque.
Talon Mancinelli. Beloved Husband. Father. Brother. Son.
My mind started doing mental gymnastics, flipping facts, trying to make them land in a way that didn't make my chest feel so tight. None of this made sense. Then Choyce's words echoed in my head.
"Men raised in cages stop trying to escape."
Honor had stopped looking for an escape the day Wolfe was kidnapped. Now he was stepping into Lucian's position. Yet, I couldn't ignore the timing.
Talon dead.
Lucian aging out.
Honor ascending.