Page 80 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Burial

It was a rather cloudy morning. The sky looked sad, and was barely holding back tears. The burial site was tucked away from the main road, surrounded by tall trees and trimmed grass. A row of chairs had been set up near the grave. Some people sat, most stood. Everyone wore black.

Most of the Cretes were in attendance including two of the notable new recruits Ramirez and Fabio. Some of the other associates' families had also come. Some who knew Stefanos personally, others who had just come to pay respect.

The casket was dark brown with silver handles. It had been placed on two wooden stands next to the open grave. A priest in white robes stood beside it with a small Bible in his hands.

Near the front, Stefanos's mother was crying bitterly. Her face was wet with tears, and her shoulders shook with each sob. Don Matteo had one arm around her, holding her steadily, comforting her. Stefanos had been her only child. She wished she'd died instead of him.

Makros arrived with Leila and Dragon walking on either side of him. They walked slowly to where the family was gathered.

Makros stopped in front of Stefanos's mother and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he said.

She looked up at him. Her face was twisted in pain and anger. She wiped her tears roughly and stood up.

"You're sorry?" she said with a cracked voice. "You killed him! You were supposed to protect him! And now he's in a box!"

Makros didn't react outwardly, but deep down he felt frustrated mostly than sad. Leila flinched but quickly composed herself. Dragon sucked in a breath.

Stefanos mother shook her head as if to clear away some of the bitterness. "You don't get to say "I'm sorry". Get out!"

Don Matteo stood up and stepped in between them. "That's enough."

He turned to Makros. "Go."

Makros looked at his father, then nodded once. He stepped back, Leila following him. Dragon stayed behind for a second longer, watching the mother, then turned and joined them.

The priest cleared his throat and asked everyone to rise before he began the prayer. Leila's eyes were closed but she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the absurdity of prayers. If the afterlife existed, they were all going straight to hell.

After he was done, the priest closed his Bible and stepped aside. "Makros Crete will now say a few words," he said.

Makros walked up slowly to the front. He should've thought this whole eulogy thing though. It was too late to regret it.

Leila stood back, hands clasped in front of her.

She surveyed the crowd with a tinge of apprehension.

Asides from the fact that she hated funerals, something kept nagging at the back of her mind, maybe it was being out in the open, maybe it was unnecessary anxiety for the baby growing inside of her.

Dragon stood just behind her, arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd.

Makros looked at the casket. The lid had been opened for a final viewing. Stefanos's face was calm, like he was sleeping. His hair had been neatly combed and he wore a black suit.

Makros cleared his throat and looked at the people around the grave.

"Stefanos was more than my cousin," he said. "He was like a brother. Quick with words and even quicker with blades. He never played by the books. He was loyal. He was brave. And he didn't deserve to die the way he did. None of them did."

Some sniffles came from the crowd. A few of the older men bowed their heads. Stefanos's mother had turned her face away.

Makros kept going.

As he spoke, Dragon's phone buzzed in his jacket. He frowned, pulled it out, and glanced at the screen.

Unknown number.

He stepped back and answered it.

"Who is this?"

"The sun sets blue," the voice said.

Dragon's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"The sun sets blue," the voice repeated.

Dragon looked over at Makros still giving his eulogy.

It couldn't be.

"I don't know who the hell this is, but I'm looking at Makros right now giving a speech for dead cousin. So who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Makros," the voice said. "And the one up there? That's Zandros."

Dragon froze. He looked at the speaker again. "Prove it."

"I gave you a scar on your right shoulder. That night in Greece. You fell through a window."

Dragon's hand slowly went to his shoulder.

"You said I was too drunk to remember that," Dragon muttered.

"I remembered. Listen. I'm close. But you need to get the girl. That's the only way I can walk in and expose my brother as an imposter. Zandros won't shoot if you take her hostage. He'll hesitate."

Dragon looked at Leila, standing quietly paying attention to the speech.

His jaw tightened.

"Got it," he said into the phone, then hung up.

Dragon slipped his phone back into his coat pocket and whispered to Leila.

"Come with me," he said quietly.

Leila blinked. "What? Why?"

"Just walk," he said, already moving.

Leila glanced once at Makros still speaking up front, then followed after Dragon. They moved behind a cluster of mourners, toward the line of black cars parked near the trees.

From where he stood giving the eulogy, Makros noticed Dragon moving away with Leila.

He paused mid-sentence, his voice faltering.

"Stefanos gave his life for this family—"

His eyes narrowed. Dragon had picked up a call just moments ago. Now he was leading Leila away.

He abandoned the speech and stepped down from the small platform ignoring the murmurs around him. People turned to look. Some of the men started whispering. Don Matteo watched him closely. Stefanos's mother gave him a bitter look, but now more confused than angry.

Makros's pace quickened.

"Signor?" one of the Crete guards asked, stepping forward.

He raised his hand. "Stay back."

He walked straight toward the trees. But just before he reached them, Dragon turned around, pulled a gun, grabbed Leila and pointed it straight at her back.

"Don't come any closer," Dragon said firmly.

Gasps erupted from the crowd. A few security men reached for their guns but Makros shouted without breaking stride, "Stand down! Nobody shoots!"

The guards froze. Don Matteo stood up, eyebrows drawn tight.

"What's going on?" someone in the back asked.

Makros stopped several feet away from Dragon, his jaw clenched.

"Dragon," he said slowly, "what the hell is this about?"

Dragon didn't lower his gun. "I always thought something was off about you. Your marriage to her. Your organisation skills lacking the conventional OCD the real Makros exudes. Your signature...the way you handled missions."

Makros's hands twitched at his sides.

"Real Makros?" he repeated, trying to stay calm. "What are you talking about?"

His eyes darted quickly to the side, scanning the trees. His throat felt tight. Sweat started to form near his temples, but he didn't wipe it. He kept his voice steady and took a small step forward.

"You're not making sense."

Dragon's grip didn't waver. "You know I'm right."

People in the crowd started to murmur again. One of the older recruits shifted nervously.

Don Matteo moved toward them now, Stefanos's mother holding onto his arm.

"What is happening?" she asked. "Why is Dragon pointing a gun at Makros' wife?"

Don Matteo looked straight at him. "Makros. Say something."

Makros licked his lips and stayed silent. He was thinking but not fast enough.

Then a figure stepped out from behind the parked cars. His hands raised slightly, not in surrender, but to show he came with no weapon. He was wearing a dark suit and he was very identical to Makros.