Page 51

My soul has never felt moredead.

Sharp rain pours down on me, soaking my suit, as I stand outside the cathedral.

“You fucking did this,” I mutter to myself. “You’re the reason they’re all dead.”

I’ll blame myself until the day I die.

Every action has a reaction.

The darker the action, the viler the reaction.

My family is dead.

Their home bombed.

All because of greedy men.

Greedy men feed off power. Always have and always will.

The overhead light shines above me as I stare into the black night. The funeral ended five hours ago, and I’m the only griever left.

I dig my Zippo lighter from my pocket, open it, and watch a hint of a flame flicker. The rain kills it seconds later, and I repeat the action, watching the same result.

I snap the Zippo shut at the sound of a car door slamming. Genesis, still dressed in her black funeral dress, circles her BMW and starts walking in my direction. The rain lashes out on her.

My now-deceased sister’s best friend.

The woman who’s stared at me for years like I was her favorite sight and who I’ve fought with myself not to do the same. It’s like she’s always trying to read my mind whenever she is around.

That’s why I’ve always maintained my distance. I don’t like people’s attention on me, especially ones I don’t trust.

I pretend not to notice her. As she grows closer, I see she’s barefoot. That’s the first sign she’s lost her goddamn mind. No one walks around New York barefoot unless you want to get tetanus.

She stops in front of me. “What really happened to them, Julian?”

I slowly raise my gaze to her, acting as if I were bored. Her dark hair is down, wet strands stuck to her flawless face, and mascara is smeared across her cheek. The fucked-up makeup isn’t from the rain.

It’s from her tears.

Her heartache.

Her fucking pain.

Unlike me, she doesn’t hide her emotions.

She waits, resting her hands on her hips, and she’s clearly out of her mind if she thinks I’ll answer her.

“Get back in your fucking car,” I say, grating the words out.

“No.” She furiously shakes her head, and rain flings from her hair. “I want to know what happened to them.”

The last person I’ll give information to is this rich bitch who thought she was living dangerously by hanging out with my sister.

“That’s none of your concern.” I crack my neck and slip my Zippo into my pocket. “Go home, Genesis.”

“They were murdered, weren’t they?” she spits, her anger matching mine. She steps closer, and the sweet scent of her floral perfume floats between us.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”