Across from us, jaws literally drop open. Some women clutch their purses tighter. Ridiculous. As if the Unholy are going to charge over and rob them right here at the burial.
Not even Discord would stoop that low.
Also, robbery isn’t his forte.
In a massive show of respect, Crow walks up to my mother and takes her hands. He kisses both of her flushed cheeks before whispering something in her ear. She offers him a welcoming, but somber, grin.
“I will,” she replies to what he said to her.
“You’re family,” he tells her, his commanding voice carrying far enough for the snobs across the grass to hear. “I apologize if we’re late. Traffic,” he explains with a crooked grin.
A gust of wind blows my mother’s blonde hair across her face. She smooths it away and tucks it behind her ear. “We were just about to begin.”
No one dares to call her on the lie.
Crow says something else to her, something meant only for her, before he walks over to me and kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He then takes a place across from us, standing in the center of the Unholy. On his right stands Rotten. Behind them, Wraith and the enforcers create a long wall of formidable men interwoven with the women. On Crow’s left is Voodoo, flanked by Dirt, Rebel, and Preacher. The rest of the Unholy stand behind them, and they are a spectacular sight to behold.
“You may begin,” my mother instructs Father Anthony. “My family has arrived.”
How are the Unholy anything less? Havoc loves me. He saved my life. They protected my mother and brother while Havoc and I were at the Death Star. Solved my dad’s murder and brought his killer to justice. So, when there are a few gasps from our Brighton guests, my mother pays them no mind.
Father Anthony starts all over again, and for the first time since the shooting, I’m oddly optimistic.
Mom, Nate, and I will heal.
I’m still terrified of what my life will be like without my father. My heart breaks thinking about the memories we’ll never make, all the moments he’ll miss. He’s never seen me in love, nor has he seen someone love me. That’s a bitter pill to swallow. I’d like to believe if there is…something…beyond this life, he’ll watch over us.
Our very own guardian angel.
And we’re going to need it, because as I look over at the Unholy, I know I’m in for one hell of a ride.
But I’ll be okay because Havoc will be by my side.
26
HAVOC
Kerri slaps a sheet of paper on the kitchen table. I look up from my French toast because this is what we do now. We have breakfast together, each morning, without fail. Our routine includes Discord, who has pretended to be busy searching for an apartment for the last three months.
As if Mayhem doesn’t have an abundance of housing availability.
Not that Kerri is in a rush for him to leave the nest. She’d have him sign a contract guaranteeing he’d live with us indefinitely if it were up to her.
My duchess, I’ve learned, likes to keep her family close. It’s why she makes us go to goddamn Brighton every fucking Sunday. Lately, Crow has broken protocol by leaving Mayhem to join us. For safety reasons, he rarely travels beyond the town, and never without protection. But for Sunday dinner with Grace Ward…?
He’s not a man whose motive we question, and he hasn’t offered an explanation. One day, he decided he needed to check on Grace—personally—and has been coming with us ever since.
I think he has a crush on Grace, but I’ll be damned if I say this to his face.
This year, obviously, Grace wasn’t feeling festive. We brought her and Nate to Mayhem for the holidays. Crow, a great leader, did a fantastic job of keeping her occupied. He gave her purpose by throwing a million tasks at her during Thanksgiving and again at Christmas. We always gather to celebrate at Sanctum, and I think the poor woman was shell-shocked by the time New Year’s rolled around. But at least she didn’t have a spare moment to wallow in grief. Nor was she happy. She hung somewhere in between. I guess that’s as good a place as any when struggling with the loss of a spouse.
Fuck knows I can’t even think about losing Kerri. The pain of that would be…too much.
And Crow was never far from Grace’s side. I’ve never seen him fuss over a woman, and weallhad something to say about it—behind his back, of course, because we’re not suicidal. But, bet your ass, every Unholy has been gossiping like little kids on the playground since Thanksgiving.
