Page 165 of Ivory Oath

Viviana kneels on Raoul’s other side. Gently, she takes his blood-crusted hands and folds them over his chest. Her voice wobbles as she whispers, “Thank you.”

The reality that he’s gone crashes down on me all at once. I hang my head. “He saved our son.”

This day will play in my head on a loop for the rest of my life. I’ll always wonder what I should have done differently.

Viviana reaches over Raoul’s body and squeezes my arm. “Tell me what you need, Mikhail. Let me help.”

My head is a fucking mess, but I blow out a breath. I’ve always worked best under pressure. This shouldn’t be any different. “Dante shouldn’t see any of this. He’s been through enough. And I don’t want him to remember Raoul like this.”

“I’ll take him back inside,” she offers. “We can wait for you and Anatoly in the hospital.”

I don’t like the idea of her being out of my sight, but with Agostino and Trofim dead or incapacitated here, she’s as safe as she’s been in months.

I nod. “Stay close to the guard stationed at the back exit. Call me if anything changes. I’ll come find you when we’re done.”

Viviana moves to stand, but hesitates. She sinks back to her knees and takes my face in her hands. “You are not responsible for this, Mikhail. You did everything you could.”

The words are nice, even if they don’t do anything to make me feel better right now. I kiss her palm and watch her leave, Dante tucked in her arms.

“Does Raoul still have zip-ties in his jacket pocket?” Anatoly calls over the still-smoking car between us.

I hate snooping through his pockets, but I slide my hand inside his jacket and pull out thick black zip-ties. Now that I’ve burned through my adrenaline, it takes every ounce of energy left in my body to propel me to my feet and around the car.

Anatoly spots the ties in my hand and his face splits into a sad smile. “I always told him it was pointless to bother with zip-ties when we could take no prisoners instead. If he was here, he’d give me shit for using them now.”

If he was here.

He is here. He’s less than ten feet away.

But we both know that isn’t true. Raoul isn’t here in any way that counts, but there’s still work to be done and bodies to dispose of. The world doesn’t stop spinning, even if it feels like ours has.

Trofim is still prone on the cement, a thin stream of watery blood pouring out of his open mouth. “Do the zip-ties mean you’re taking Trofim prisoner?”

Anatoly bends down and zip ties our brother’s wrists tightly enough that his fingers look like red, swollen sausages.

“I would love to drag out his punishment, but we have a funeral to plan thanks to this fucking—” He blows out a sharp breath. “Believe it or not, I’m ready to be done with Trofim. Aren’t you?”

I study the emotion in my chest. I sort through the tangled web and search for anything having to do with Trofim, but… there’s nothing. Somewhere along the way, all the rage I carried for him disappeared.

I just want him gone.

The car is leaking a steady stream of gas and oil and the smell is becoming distracting. Something under the hood is sputtering like it could catch any second.

I tip my head towards the crash. “What do you say we make sure Trofim can’t come back from the dead a second time?”

“Music to my ears.” Anatoly grins viciously. “Do you have a lighter?”

I toss him the one from my pocket and Anatoly’s eyes dance as if he’s staring into the flames already.

Silently, we get to work. We’ll have witnesses soon enough; we need to move fast. He heaves Trofim’s unconscious body over his shoulder and drops him back in the driver’s seat. While I’m dragging Agostino’s corpse into the passenger seat, I notice Anatoly securing Trofim’s hands to the steering wheel.

Together, we carefully move Raoul’s body into the backseat of Anatoly’s car, far out of reach of the flames.

“What are we going to do with him now?” he asks quietly.

I drape a blanket over him and close the door. “We’re going to give him a proper funeral.”

“A big blowout,” Anatoly agrees. “The kind Raoul would have hated.”

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