Page 119 of Shadows of the Past
When she steps back, I know it’s over. Not everything—there are still circles to break, still children to save—but today, the world is rid of another viper, and that’s the only comfort I have.
I close my eyes and, for a moment, think of her. For you, Vera. For the wings they broke when you could have soared.
When I turn to Roman, I signal that it’s time to bury him. I could have left it to the soldiers, but I need to be the one to throw the first handful of dirt. I need that certainty, when I close myeyes tonight, that he’s six feet under and he’ll never hurt anyone again.
Julia leaves to take Lupe home. Even if her sister isn’t my favorite person right now, I get it. They need time to find each other again. Amalia’s already there, and I think this time together will help them heal.
Behind the warehouse, there’s a patch of woods. It takes us ten minutes to haul the body to the right spot. A soldier brings us shovels, and I glance at Roman in his expensive suit and leather shoes.
“I can do this myself, you know,” I tell him because he doesn’t exactly look ready to dig a grave.
Before he can answer, I hear footsteps behind us and frown when I see Niko jogging over, dressed in a dark blue suit just like Roman’s.
“Can you two never wait for me?” he calls, and I’m too surprised to answer.
“If you’d finished that negotiation an hour ago, you might’ve caught the show,” my twin shoots back.
“I had a…personal issue,” is all Niko says, and even I know better than to ask for details.
I look at my brothers, both of them looking like they’re about to take over a boardroom, not bury a body in the woods, and I can’t help but laugh. They both glance at me, and I wonder if they have any idea how ridiculous they look in thousand-dollar suits, ready to dig a grave.
“I swear, neither of you has ever held a shovel in your life. Careful not to ruin those perfect manicures.”
For a second, I can see the curses on their tongues, but in the end, it’s Niko who grins and says, “I’ve had my hands ona stripper pole before, and honestly, it’s not that different.” He jams the shovel into the dirt and tosses the first load aside.
“You sure you’re not the adopted one?” Roman snorts.
“Please. Someone had to bring style and charisma to this family. No offense, Max, but you’re like Roman’s Chucky-on-a-motorcycle version, and Roman’s Hannibal Lecter when Luna’s having a bad day. Lucky for you both, I’m here to save the family’s reputation.”
For the first time in ages, I feel something lift off my chest and start to laugh—real, shaking laughter, tears stinging my eyes. I can’t remember the last time that happened.
By the time the moment passes, we’ve dug one foot down. We pick up the pace so night doesn’t catch us.
The three of us finish in about an hour. When I lower Aleksandr into the grave, I look down one last time at the man who could’ve been an ally in hell but chose to become a demon instead.
“He deserved to die slower,” Roman mutters.
Maybe. But that would’ve meant more time in his presence, and I’ve had nearly three decades of that already.
“I think even the devil has a score to settle with him, after all the innocence and purity he’s devoured.”
It doesn’t take long to cover the grave. When we’re done, I look at my brothers, who didn’t have to be here but are anyway.
We survived. We endured. We made it through.
Today, we’re all still standing, and right now, that’s all that matters.
Chapter 45
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Julia
We’re at the cemetery in Puerto Vallarta, and for the first time, I run my fingers over the headstones that bear my parents’ names. The letters are sharp and final, carved into white marble that gleams in the afternoon sun.
I kneel between their graves, the chill of the stone seeping through my jeans, and set a bouquet of sunflowers between them—bright and stubborn, just like Mama always was.
“I miss you both so much,” I whisper, tilting my face toward the sky, searching for something—anything—in the clouds above.
