Page 64 of King Of Order

His arms were solid and steady, his hand rubbing slow circles on my back. ‘I have you.’

I cried until the tears dried up, and all remaining was exhaustion and the deep, hollow ache of loss.

I pulled back, wiping my face, but the shudders came in small, uncontrollable bursts.

‘I have to go to the hospital,’ I muttered, my voice shaking. ‘I have to identify his body. Talk to the coroner. Do all of it.’

Rio didn’t hesitate. ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘OK,’ I whispered, trembling against him.

He stepped away, took my hand, and led me out of his quarters.

We crossed the dew-soaked backyard barefoot, our footsteps leaving trails in the grass.

Into my house, up the stairs, and into my room.

He kept powering to my bathroom.

‘Shower, hair, dress,leonessa. Meet me downstairs in twenty.’

He’d no give in his voice.

‘Hear?’ he demanded.

I nodded.

After another close, hard hug, his presence left me.

I stood, lost, blinking in the soft light before moving to do as he commanded.

Thirty minutes later, we were on the road. I sat in the passenger seat, staring at the slowly waking streets as we drove to the hospital.

The world outside appeared disconnected and distant like it wasn’t even real.

My hands twisted in my lap, restless, but with Rio by my side, a strange calm came over me.

As if his existence alone was keeping me from unraveling.

The hospital was cold and sterile, and the fluorescent lights were too harsh as we walked through the halls.

When they showed me my father’s body, laid out on the table, it didn’t even appear like him. The man I was familiar with, who had been larger than life, was gone. All that remained was a frail, empty shell.

I stared down at him, feeling nothing and everything all at once.

On one side of me stood Rio. On the other was Signore Messini, our family’s lawyer. He’d also received a call from thehospital directly from someone senior, pointing to some prior arrangement.

Signore Messini was speaking with the medical team about the passing and his final moments, but the phrases were like sounds underwater, warbled, unintelligible.

They didn’t make a difference.

Rio stood beside me, silent.

He didn’t touch me, didn’t say anything unnecessary.

He was present, keeping me from drowning in the surreal nightmare.

‘Signora Tirone,’ Signore Messini whispered. ‘What do you want to do?’

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