Page 36 of They Will Burn

This is the first time I’ve been truly free in almost two months, even if I know once I’ve done this, I’ll head straight back to the compound. Hopefully the GPS in this thing has home saved, because otherwise I might have to wait for one of them to find me, and I doubt they’ll be happy about it.

I slow down as I come to the cemetery, my stomach clenching at the idea of what I’m about to do. I’ve been trying so hard just to survive the last couple of months that I haven’t taken the time to grieve for the only family I had left. Hell, if I’m honest with myself, I think I’ve spent more time avoiding that reality than I have accepting it, but seeing his gravestone is only going to cement it.

I park the car near our family plot and allow my eyes to drift closed for a moment. I remember the first time I visited my mother here all those years ago and how I cried so hard it hurt. How I clung to her headstone when my father told me it was time to go home. But this feels more final somehow. Like the fact that beside her, he’ll be in his final resting place as well, and my spot next to them is the only one not occupied.

I force myself to push the door open, and my feet move on autopilot. I kick off my sky-high heels when I reach the grass, and I shiver when my bare feet hit the cold earth. It’s starting to warm up as spring takes over, but there’s still a chill in the air that my dress is doing very little to protect me from.

Every step I take toward the family plot feels harder than the last, and yet in no time, I’m standing in front of my parents with my heart in my throat.

I was too young to mourn all the things my mother would miss out on when she died, but now that I’ve lost both my parents, the gravity hits me like a freight train. They’ll never see me get married or meet their grandchildren. They’ll never watch me lead our family into the next generation. They’re gone, and nothing’s going to bring them back.

My knees fall out from under me, and I drop to the grass, a rough sob escaping from my throat as I read their headstones. I helped my father put his funeral plan together a few years ago, so I already know what his says, but the words still feel disjointed to read.

John Lucas De Marco

April 11, 1965 - January 12, 2024

Beloved husband and father

Another sob escapes my throat as I turn my head to the right and read similar words on my mother’s grave.

Heather Anne De Marco

June 28, 1975 - September 5, 2014

Devoted mother and wife

The words hurt every bit as much as they did the first time I read them, except now there’s the added pain of my father being right next to her.

“I’m sorry.” I choke on the words. “I’m sorry you tried to save me. I’m sorry I didn’t go to Charles willingly. You’d still be alive if I’d just done what I was supposed to.”

A rough hiccup forces its way from my throat, but it only makes me cry harder. I don’t know how to do this without guidance. I thought when I eventually took over for my dad that he would be there by my side, that he’d guide me. But now I’m alone, and for the first time in my life, I’m not totally sure I can actually do this.

I don’t know how much time passes, the wet grass soaking through what I’m sure is an expensive dress, my body heaving with sobs as tears fall to their graves. All the emotions I forced down, that I hid from my men, escape, and I’m left with a gaping hole in my chest that doesn’t feel like it will ever be repaired.

My father and I had a complicated relationship. He believed in submerging me in the family business, and sometimes that involved being hurt so that if I were ever hurt again, I could handle it.

A memory flashes through my mind, and I cringe. Him sitting in the corner as he allowed one of his men to cut me open. Barking orders at me to stay strong, not to break, even when that’s all I wanted to do. I was sixteen, and feeling that much pain wasn’t natural to me, but it worked. I never broke. I held my own, and I made him proud that day. Even if he never said those words, I could see it in his eyes that he was proud of me, that just by sustaining a few hours of pain, I confirmed in his mind that I could be the next leader of our family.

The eerie feeling of being watched washes over me, and I glance around the empty cemetery as inconspicuous as I can manage. I look at the birds in the tree to my left, surveying the area in my peripheral vision, before turning the other way and smiling at a patch of flowers that have been planted since the last time I visited. But as far as I can see, there’s no one else here except for me.

Probably just your mind playing tricks on you, I tell myself. No one knows I’m here, and if the men of the Legion have caught up with me already, I’m pretty sure they would have made themselves known. They’re not exactly wait-in-the-wings kind of guys when it comes to me.

I swallow heavily and push myself to my feet. If I sit out here for much longer, the sun will begin to set, and then I really might freeze to death.

“Bye, Daddy,” I whisper, pressing my palm to his headstone before turning to my mom. “Bye, Mom. I wish I could tell you how much I miss you, how much I wish you were here to guide me.” I choke on a sob as a laugh escapes my throat. “I’m not sure how well you’d be able to guide a relationship with four guys, but at least I’d have someone to talk to.”

I stand there for a few more moments, willing myself to turn around and head back to the car, and when I finally do, I find a familiar face leaning against the expensive sports car.

“I wasn’t sure it was you when I saw you from across the cemetery,” he says, his voice slightly clipped. His eyes survey me, spending too much time locked on my grass-stained knees and tear-streaked cheeks for my liking.

I wet my lips and swallow down my emotions, snapping the practiced mask back into place. “Are you visiting someone?” I ask. He’s wearing almost the same suit he had on that day at Charles’s apartment when he came to visit me, and I would be an idiot to think it’s a coincidence he’s found himself here at the same time I have, even if no one knew I was coming here.

He nods and steps closer. “My girlfriend died a few years ago. I try to visit her once every week or so, but I’ve been so busy of late that I’ve gotten slack.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I force the words out, holding my body as still as I can when he takes another step toward me. “I seem to have forgotten your name, so silly of me.”

“I never gave it to you.” He smirks as the sound of a car on the driveway drags our attention away from one another. “I should get going. It was lovely to see you again, Camilla. I have a feeling it won’t be the last time.”

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