Page 71 of Stolen Love

We shouldn’t be saying goodbye to Marty today. She isn’t supposed to be dead. And the fact that she is… because she was trying to help me. It doesn’t matter that I wasn’t aware. It’s almost too much to bear.

The crowd starts to thicken two blocks from the venue. News vans are parked on both sides of the street. A queue of cars moves slowly forward, passengers emptying from each vehicle before a valet attendant hops in to park it.

People dressed in black shuffle into the venue. Their expressions are sombre. Even the paparazzi seem muted today as they crowd the pavement along with a sea of mourners.

It reminds me of when my dad died. I massage my temples. Especially with the phone calls and the envelopes lately. God, I wish he were still here. I wish he had given me the information I needed instead of leaving me to work out these clues for myself.

My stomach roils and I press my hand to the aching spot when it’s our turn to alight.

Adira tips his head and tugs his mouth to the side with his teeth as he joins me on the pavement. He’s wearing platinum shoulder length waves with a black Audrey Hepburn inspired dress. One manicured brow raises ever so slightly.

I shake my head. With everything that’s happened I haven’t had a chance to get him alone and spill the tea about my multiple attempts to take a pregnancy test. Or that Rogue’s my cousin. And his cousin, once removed.

There is so much I need to tell him, but there will be plenty of time to explain it all later. I let my hand drift back to my side. After the memorial, when our family and friends gather at the penthouse, I’ll pull my bestie aside and fill him in.

Rogue steps up to my other side. He places his hand at the small of my back as we move with the others going inside, like we talked about before we left the penthouse.

It doesn’t matter that I told Nathaniel I know that Rogue is my cousin. Or whether he alerted Nicole to that fact. It only matters that we present a united front in case Alec shows up here. After how easily he slipped through the crowd yesterday, any inch we give him might be too much.

Rogue leans in and speaks softly in my ear. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

I nod. He’s reassuring me that I am safe, and I should be, between our security and the media and the cops that have all shown up in force tonight.

Jackson is watching my every move. I can sense his eyes on me as we pass the media who are here to cover the funeral as much as to say their farewells to their queen. There is audio equipment and cameras everywhere.

And tonight it appears the media have called a truce on Rogue Maddox. No one asks about Mark Anders or the investigation. They don’t ask whether we’re married. Or about me being a Hawthorne. Tonight we are all here to mourn our loss.

Our pain has brought us together in a way we didn’t expect.

Inside the venue we find Marty’s grandfather and offer our condolences before we’re ushered to our seats.

“I’m surprised he wanted you this close to the front,” Rogue says to Rebel as I sit and fix my skirt around my thighs.

“He’s speaking,” Riot says. “Aren’t you? I saw you preparing your eulogy.”

Rebel adjusts his shirt collar and shows them a small wad of paper that he pulls from his pocket. “Martin asked me to talk about her younger years.”

Rogue squeezes his twin’s shoulder. “Of course he did. You were the one who knew her best.”

Adira sits down next to me and takes my hand. “Not feeling well again?”

“Just nerves.” I stare at the picture of Marty on the dais. The shot was taken a few years ago. She’s relaxed. A smile lights up her eyes.

If not for me, Marty would not be going to her final resting place tomorrow. I steal my hand back and squeeze my fingers in an attempt to relieve the pins and needles.

Minute by minute the room becomes more crowded. Louder. Stuffy. The air thickens. I almost want to claw at my throat. I feel like I’m suffocating.

A young girl of maybe five or six sits in the row in front of us with her parents. She has big blue eyes and a blonde braid that reaches to her waist.

It makes me think of the beautiful angel I saw while West was squeezing the life out of me. And the little girl dressed in pink.

“What are you thinking?” Rogue asks as he takes my hand again, slipping his fingers between mine before curling them up to the knuckle.

It’s supportive and for show, but my heart latches onto that feeling like an addict. “I think… there’s something important that I need to remember.”

Adira angles his body toward mine. “Alec—”

“No. Before that. From when I was little.” I frown but then purposely smooth out my brow when the girl turns around in her chair and stares at me. “I haven’t thought of them since I was four or five years old.”

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