Page 22 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

I force a smile, which turned out to be more of a grimace than anything else, but still I nod. “Thanks.”

This whole scene feels like a performance, everyone playing their parts, trying to make sense of a situation they can’t possibly understand. It’s all too much right now. I just want to leave, to walk out of this suffocating room and go somewhere, anywhere, where I can breathe without the weight of all these words bearing down on me.

I lean over whispering to Jasmine, just as we take our seats outside in the cemetery. “I want to go.”

“Willow,” Jasmine starts.

“I can’t do this.” I go to move, but Damien holds me down. His arm placed across my lap, and I turn to glare at him. “Damien.”

“You are going to sit here and stay at your father’s funeral.” Damien says through gritted teeth.

I breathe in sharply. “I can’t-”

“Your father was a good man. The best man.” Damien’s eyes don’t leave the preacher's direction as he walks up to the podium and starts to speak. “You are going to give him the respect he deserves.”

“Damien, let me go.”

“No.” He snaps, looking at me, and that is when my eyes dart down and lock on a small pin shining on Damien’s lapel.

I reach out, my hands shaking as I touch the pin as if it will burn me. “What’s this?”

“I got it from your father’s room this morning.” He whispers, his eyes boring into my face and I swallow as I run my fingers across the large hard hat pin with a daisy on top.

“I gave that to my father when I was thirteen.” I whisper.

Damien hums his approval, moving in closer to me. “I guess that's why I took it. It’s a piece of him and you.”

I can feel my chest tightening as the pastor speaks, the pressure building up behind my eyes as the tears threaten to spill over.

“Damien, hold me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the murmurs of the crowd. I turn to him, seeking comfort, needing the security of his arms, even if just for a fleeting moment. Mybody trembles with quiet desperation, hoping he’ll be kind to me again, just for this last time. I need him now more than ever, even if it’s only temporary.

I bury my face in his chest. The fabric of his shirt wrapping around me, the faint scent of rain mixed with his cologne grounds me. The storm outside is relentless, the rain hammering against the windows, but in Damien’s arms, the world feels like it slows down, if only for a second. I cling to him, as though he’s the only thing keeping me from shattering completely. I need him, but I know I’m really just holding on to the last bit of comfort before I’m forced to face the reality that my father is gone.

Then, a voice calls out my name. The pastor’s. It cuts through the fog of my thoughts. “Willow.” The pastor continues, his voice carrying over the crowd. “His legacy lives on in his only child, Willow. Who will now give his eulogy.”

I freeze. My stomach churns, everything sinking deeper. Everyone is waiting for me. The room is heavy with anticipation, and I know they’re all expecting me to stand up, to find the strength to honor my father the way he deserved. But I can’t. My body refuses to move.

I feel my chest tighten at the mention of my name. I can’t be the one. I can’t carry the weight of this. I can’t speak when the tears are still falling, when all I want to do is curl into myself and disappear.

“Willow…” the pastor says again, his hand outstretched.

I move away from Damien and I bury my face into Jasmine’s shoulder, pouring all of my sorrow into her, even if it is just for a moment. Her arms wrap around me, and she holds me close, buteven that comfort feels small in the face of the suffocating grief. I don’t know how to process it. How to say goodbye to the man who’s been my everything, my father, the person who always believed in me.

I look up, through the haze of tears, and feel Damien’s absence as he moves to step forward. He clears his throat, before he speaks and I hold my breath.

“Willow’s father was many things to many people,” he starts, his words steady, each one laden with emotion. “But to me, he was everything. He was the man who might as well have raised me over the last three years, who taught me what it meant to be strong, to be kind, and to never back down from a fight. He was the best man I’ve ever known.

“He was a man who would do anything for those he loved,” his eyes scanning the crowd. “He built more than just a business and the occasional chair—he built relationships. And I’m proud to have known him, to have been a part of his life.”

Jasmine tightens her hold on me as I let the tears fall again, but this time, I don’t feel as alone. I don’t feel as lost. Their voices fill the space that I couldn’t fill, and for the first time in hours, I can breathe.

-----------

The rest of the funeral goes by smoothly, and for the most part I either stand or just sit there, eyes fixed on the casket, the only thing in this room that feels real, the only thing that isn’t pretending to be something it’s not. I stand there long after everyone has left, and they have started to throw dirt on top of the casket.

Cast doesn’t want to leave, but the cartel never stops for anyone. I can see the hesitation in his posture, like if he stays just a bit longer, the situation might change. But he knows it won’t. The life he’s in doesn’t allow for moments of peace. “I’ve gotta go,” he says quietly.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek that feels more like a goodbye than anything else. “I’ll be back,” he murmurs, though the doubt in his voice makes it feel more like a promise that might never be kept. Without waiting for me to say anything, he turns and walks out, leaving me with nothing but the empty space between us.

---