Page 24 of King

King opened the door, leading her into the sterile, dimly lit lobby. The faint hum of fluorescent lights filled the silence. A receptionist glanced up from behind a counter, her expression neutral but professional.

“Amara Tarvin?” the woman asked, her tone polite but detached.

“Yes,” Amara said, her voice steady, though King could see her hands trembling slightly at her sides.

“I was told you’d be coming in.” The woman nodded, standing and gesturing for them to follow. “This way, please.”

King placed a reassuring hand on Amara’s back as they followed the woman down a narrow hallway. Their footsteps echoed off the walls, the weight of what was to come hanging heavily in the air. King could feel Amara’s tension radiating off her and wished he could do more to ease her burden.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door. The receptionist hesitated before opening it, turning to Amara sympathetically. “Take your time,” she said gently, then stepped aside to let them in.

Once the woman left, King stopped Amara, turning her to face him. “Let me do this for you, Amara.” He said, watching her closely. The last thing he wanted for her was to see her brother in this state. He had been in a morgue before, and it wasn’t pleasant to experience.

She took a long time to answer, which meant she was thinking about it, but then she shook her head. “I have to do this...for him. It’s my job, mostly out of respect for my brother. I know he would have done it for me if I were the one in there. But I do appreciate you wanting to do that for me.”

Even thinking of her lying lifeless on a cold metal table sent ripples of emotion through him. King nodded, taking her hand, hating what she was about to endure. He opened the door, his eyes going directly toward the lone table in the center of the room.

The room was cold,even colder than the January air outside, and the stark fluorescent lights overhead cast harsh shadows on the sterile walls. The faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of something else Amara couldn’t place but didn’t want to think about. She gripped King’s arm tighter as they stepped inside, her breaths shallow and uneven.

In the center of the room stood a metal table, the lifeless form of her brother covered in a thin white sheet. The sheet did little to hide the reality of death. It only softened it. The sight rooted Amara to the floor. Her legs refused to move, and her hand tightened around King’s arm until her knuckles turned white.

The coroner, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a somber expression, stood off to the side, respectfully observing them before speaking. “Ms. Tarvin?” he said gently. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Amara nodded faintly, though she didn’t feel ready at all. Her heart thundered in her chest, her stomach churning violently. She wanted to turn around and run, but her feet stayed planted as if the weight of her grief physically held her in place.

King’s steady presence beside her gave her just enough courage to move forward. He placed a firm but reassuring hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the table. “I’m right here,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble of comfort.

She glanced up at him, his golden eyes unwavering as they met hers. His strength anchored her, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

The coroner moved to the head of the table and looked at her with quiet understanding. “I’ll pull the sheet back now,” he said gently. “Just enough for you to see his face.”

King stopped him, his expression unreadable. “His condition…” His voice trailed off as if he was holding something back.

Amara’s stomach tightened. She turned to him, her pulse racing. “What do you mean, his condition?”

King exhaled heavily before finally meeting her gaze. “He was shot.”

A wave of nausea rolled through her, and she swallowed hard, forcing down the bile that burned the back of her throat. Oh, God. She hadn’t really asked how he had died. She wasn’t ready for this.

“I’ve taken that into consideration,” the coroner said, his tone measured as he glanced at Amara.

She gave a slight nod, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat. She had to do this. Bracing herself, she watched as the coroner carefully folded the sheet down to Lee’s shoulders, revealing his face.

Her breath caught in her throat. There he was...her brother. His skin was pale, almost waxen, and his features were unnaturally still. But it wasn’t just the stillness that broke her heart. It was the bruising on his battered face and the large white bandages on the left side of his head. Purple and black marks marred his cheeks and jaw, standing out starkly against the pallor of his skin. His left eye was swollen shut, the damage a cruel reminder of the violence he had endured. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes.

King stood silently beside her, his broad frame a protective shield against the crushing weight of the moment. He didn’t speak or move, but his hand remained steady on her back.

The coroner stepped forward, his tone quiet and respectful. “Miss Tarvin, I know this is difficult, but can you confirm that this is your brother, Lee Tarvin?”

Amara swallowed hard, her gaze returning to Lee’s face. Her fingers brushed against his hair, and she let out a shaky breath. “Yes,” she said finally, her voice breaking. “That’s him.”

The coroner gave a solemn nod. “Thank you. Take as much time as you need.”

As the coroner stepped back, Amara leaned closer to Lee, her tears falling faster now. She whispered things only he could hear...apologies, memories, and promises to take care of Joey. Her fingers lingered on his cold hand under the stiff sheet, the finality of his absence settling heavily in her chest.

King let her grieve, standing silently by her side. When her legs began to tremble, he slipped an arm around her waist, steadying her before she could collapse under the weight of her emotions.

After what felt like an eternity, Amara finally stepped back, her body trembling. “I’m ready,” she whispered, her voice raw.

---