Page 73 of Fired at the Heart

The edges of my vision grow darker, my limbs turning heavy and unresponsive. I’m so cold, despite the warmth of Raphael’s body.

I think of Cassian, of the hurt I caused when he realized I was choosing Raphael over him. I think of my crew, who will now have to follow Rico’s orders if I die. I think of the Mark on my neck, still fresh and tender, that might once again be severed by death and how much it will hurt my Alpha.

“Raph,” I manage, his name barely audible to my own ears.

His face blurs in and out of focus. “I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

“You said you’d stay,” I remind him, the words taking all of my remaining strength to form.

“And I meant it.” Tears roll down his stubbled cheeks. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

As consciousness slips away from me, I want to tell him that I believe him. This time would have been different.

The last thing I feel is Raphael’s lips on my forehead, sobbing promises I can no longer hear as darkness claims me.

RAPHAEL

Sunlight filters through the church’s stained-glass windows, painting the worn, wooden pews in jewel tones. My family fills the front rows, their shoulders hunched in grief.

The closed casket rests at the altar beneath an arrangement of white lilies and blue hydrangeas. Mother always did have impeccable taste, even when burying a son.

I count the familiar faces. My parents had flown in from the country estate, and Father sits rigidly beside Aaiden in an expensive black suit, a pillar of Alpha restraint in mourning. My youngest brother, Gabriel, rests a protective hand on Mother’s shoulder.

In the pews behind them, every seat is packed tight with extended family, business partners, and society friends who wouldn’t recognize me if I walked past them on the street tomorrow. The turnout is impressive, though most of them are here only for the bragging rights.

The pastor speaks about legacy and the comforts of an afterlife, meaningless platitudes about a man he’s never met. But my throat tightens, nonetheless. The unwelcome pressure of tears stings, and I blink to banish them.

But not fast enough as an elbow digs into my ribs. “You’re not allowed to cry at your own funeral. It’s tacky.”

I turn to my mate, drinking in the sight of his face in profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the flicker of amusement in his blue eyes. Even seated in the balcony, out of view from the mourners below, his ash-blond hair catches the light from the stained glass, turning it copper and gold.

“I paid for this farce,” I whisper back. “It entitles me to at least one tear.”

Behind us comes the soft crunch of popcorn, and I twist to see Jace, massive and stoic as ever, digging into a paper bag.

I stare at him, incredulous. “You brought snacks to my funeral?”

“These things always drag. Especially fake ones.” Jace shrugs, his broad shoulders rising and falling beneath his black, tactical jacket. “Still think you should have died of a venereal disease. Something rare and exotic. Would’ve been more fitting than a car crash.”

“Please,” Rico scoffs from beside him, the blade of his knife glinting as he uses it to clean beneath his fingernails. “That’s amateur hour. He should have gone out in a yacht explosion. Rich boy like him? The press would have eaten it up.”

“Assassination by a jealous lover,” Lena offers, not looking up from the scope of her rifle, which she’s cleaning as if we’re not sitting in a church balcony overlooking my funeral. “Multiple stab wounds to the groin. That would have been poetic.”

A chuckle escapes me, and Avery shoots me a warning look. Below, my mother dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief as the pastor invites my father to speak. I wonder what lies he’ll tell today.

“Glad to provide entertainment for you all,” I murmur, but my sarcasm can’t mask the honesty behind my words.

I’m grateful this ragtag crew of criminals let me return to their fold after what I did.

It wasn’t an easy road back. Not for Avery after Cassian shot him, and not for me returning home at his side.

It had taken Avery three days to come back to me, lying pale and still in the Rockfords’ private hospital. The bullet that had torn through his body almost stole him from me just when I had won him back.

It took a few more days after that before he could walk on his own. We returned to his apartment, only to be met with the displeasure of his chosen family. They didn’t like seeing me back by his side, not with their boss injured and Cassian nowhere in sight.

Only Lena hadn’t looked surprised, though I wouldn’t know it if she was. The woman gives away nothing.

My return to the fold had been touch and go there for a bit, unsure of whether they’d accept me back. Still was, but I’ll keep working to win back their trust, because I’m going anywhere this time.

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