The burial site sits in a quiet clearing carved out between tall, indifferent trees, the earth freshly broken and dark against the surrounding carpet of dry leaves and brittle grass.
It’s far from the house so it won’t be traceable if the need arose, though I doubt it would with their line of business.
A cold breeze moves through the branches overhead, carrying the smell of damp soil and pine. I’m dressed in dark jeans and a long coat I barely remember putting on but the fabric does nothing to keep out the chill creeping under my skin.
I stand at the edge of the hole, watching as they lower his body into the dirt.
They wrapped him in a sheet, at least, sparing me from having to look at his face, from having to see the bullet wound I put there.
Tears roll down my cheeks and I make no effort to stop them.
I hear a lighter flick behind me, the smell of cigarette smoke drifting over my shoulder a moment later, and I turn around. Ilay is leaning against a tree a few feet away with a cigarette dangling from his lips, looking bored out of his mind, like we'rewaiting in line at the grocery store instead of burying a man I murdered.
"Respect the dead," I say, the words coming out raw.
He takes a long drag and blows smoke out slowly, unbothered. "Hard to respect a man who tried to steal what's mine."
"He had a daughter, a little girl. She's seven years old and now she doesn't have a father because of me."
"Because of him," Ilay corrects while flicking ash onto the ground. "He knew the risks when he took the job and he knew who he was going up against. Stupid decisions have consequences." Part of me wants to scream at him, wants to hit him, but I'm too tired and too empty for either. One of his men, Igor, snickers at something the other, Boris, says, and I don't catch the exact words but I catch the tone.
They're joking.
Making fun of the dead man in the hole. I shoot Ilay a look and he raises an eyebrow but says nothing, he doesn't tell them to stop.
Turning back to the grave, I watch the men shoveling dirt, covering Daniil's body one scoop at a time. Each thud of earth hitting the sheet makes my stomach turn.
"His daughter," I say, not bothering to look at him. "Sophia. You're going to take care of her."
"Say something angel?"
"Insurance, education, whatever she needs for the rest of her life. You're paying for it."
He doesn't respond right away, and I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. "And why would I do that?"
"Because I'm asking you to." I finally turn around to face him. "You forced me to kill her father. That little girl is going to grow up without her dad and it's your fault, so the least you can do is make sure she doesn't starve."
He takes another drag of his cigarette and studies me with those cold eyes. "Fine," he says after a moment. "Consider it done."
I blink, having expected more of a fight. "Just like that?"
"You asked and I agreed. What more do you want, a written contract?" I don't know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
The men finish filling the grave and pack the dirt down, leaving it uneven and ugly. There's no headstone, no marker, just a patch of disturbed earth in the middle of the woods that no one will ever find.
Ilay pushes off the tree and walks toward the grave.
For a second I think he might say something, might pay some kind of respect, but instead he takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks the butt onto the freshly turned dirt. I kick his foot as hard as I can.
He looks down at me, amused. "What?"
"You're disgusting."
"And you're beautiful when you're angry." He glances back toward the house. "Are we done here? I'm getting bored."
Ignoring him, I turn back to the grave and close my eyes, clasping my hands together. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Daniil. You deserved better than this. You deserved to go home to your daughter, and I hope wherever you are now, you find peace. I promise I'll make sure Sophia is taken care of and she won't want for anything. I swear it."
I stay like that for a long moment with tears sliding down my face, saying a silent prayer for a man who died trying to help me. When I finally open my eyes, Ilay is standing beside me. Not touching me or speaking. Just waiting.
