Page 180 of The Thief
"What changed?"
"Time. And acceptance that love makes people do things that seem crazy to everyone else. Grandda didn't die because he had to protect me. He died because he chose to protect me. Because loving someone means putting their safety above your own life."
"That's exactly what Henry did," Denis adds. "He chose to stand between you and Trace, knowing the risk. Not because he was obligated to, but because he loved you."
"How do you know?"
"Because I would have done the same thing. Because any of us would have. Because that's what family means."
The weight of their words settles over me, heavy and warm. I've been so focused on my guilt that I haven't allowed myself to see the truth. Henry didn't die protecting a stranger. He died protecting his granddaughter. Someone he loved, someone who mattered to him more than his own safety.
"I miss him," I whisper.
"So do we," Holly says, pulling me into a hug. "But he's not really gone, you know. He's in all of us. In the way we take care of each other, in the way we fight for family, in the way we love without reservation."
"I don't know how to do that."
"You'll learn. We'll teach you."
"What if I'm not good at it? What if I can't be the kind of person he thought I was?"
"Then you'll figure it out as you go. We all do."
Denis places a gentle hand on my shoulder. "You belong here, Alastríona. Not because of blood or obligation, but because Granddad chose you. Because you chose us. Because family isn't about being perfect—it's about showing up, even when it's hard."
"Especially when it's hard," Holly adds. "Like today."
I look around the room at all these people who've come to honor Henry's memory. They're not here out of duty or fear. They're here out of love. Love for a man who built something bigger than himself, something that will outlast his death.
Something I'm part of now, whether I understand it or not.
"Okay," I say quietly.
"Okay what?" Freddie asks, appearing beside me with a cup of tea I didn't realize I needed.
"Okay, I'll try. I'll try to be the granddaughter he believed I could be."
"You already are," Denis says. "You just need to believe it yourself."
The next few hours pass in a blur of introductions and shared memories. I meet so many people who knew Henry. Each conversation, each story about Henry, helps me understand the man I lost and the family I've gained.
By the time we leave for the church, I feel different. Steadier. Like I'm walking into my own life instead of stumbling through someone else's.
The funeral is beautiful and terrible in equal measure. The church is packed with hundreds of people, all of them there to honor a man who commanded respect across two continents. The service is formal but personal, full of readings that speak to Henry's love of family and his commitment to protecting what mattered most.
I sit in the front row between Freddie and Denis, Holly on Denis' other side. The family section, where I belong now whether I feel ready or not.
When they lower Henry into the ground, I finally let myself cry. Not just for him, but for all the time we'll never have. For the grandfather I barely got to know and the relationships that were cut short by violence and hatred.
But also for the love that remains. For the family that's wrapped around me like armor, protecting me from my own guilt and grief. For the man standing beside me who's promised to help me navigate this new world I've inherited.
As we walk away from the graveside, Holly falls into step beside me.
"You did good today," she says quietly.
"I cried through the entire service."
"Exactly. You showed up. You grieved. You let yourself be part of something bigger than your own pain."
