Page 86 of Empire of Carnage
Like my thoughts alone were powerful enough to summon her, she came running through the doors at the sound of our car pulling into the property. She waited at the entrance with hands clasped and one by one we stepped out of the vehicle.
She ran to us, as if she’d been expecting him to come out of the car as well, slowing down to a stop with a confused look on her face once she saw there were only the four of us. She looked past as if maybe there would be another car following us, as there often was. My men had gone home to tend to their wounds, the Black Crows that remained would be arriving from Cove City within the next few days.
Ronan looked away, Santos looked down, Mateo stuck his hands in his pocket. She turned to me as if she was waiting for me to confirm what she feared.
I shook my head, unsure of what else I could do or say.
Chiyo dropped to her knees, a heavy sob blowing out into the wind.
It wasn’t fair, their love hadn’t gotten a real chance before it had been crushed to nothing but dust.
But maybe we weren’t all supposed to get a chance.
I looked at my guys, realizing I had not only gotten a second, but a third and fourth chance as well.
It definitely wasn’t fucking fair.
The men walked towards the house, brushing past her with awkward glances and no words of comfort.
They had none for themselves, how would they conjure them for her?
I stopped in front of her, standing silently while she continued to cry, her tears falling down her cheeks and wetting the soil beneath her.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked.
It was the first time I’d heard her voice.
“You don’t have to go anywhere. But if you decide to leave, wherever you go, I’ll help find a place for you there.” I assured her.
“I’m starting to think, there’s no place for me in this world.” She lamented in perfect English, letting me know my original belief about her being the smartest person in the room wasn’t wrong.
She played them all.
But regardless of wits, ferocity, or strength, there was one human flaw that forced every human to crumble in pain, to split into shards of themselves.
Grief.
Loss.
La muerte.
I’d long forgotten that pain. When I laid in the hospital bed with a bullet in my shoulder at the age of fifteen and mourned my entire family, I had begged Santa Muerte to cast her protection over me like a comforting blanket, not to prevent me from dying but to prevent me from feeling what death inevitably did to all of us.
It took.
It robbed us, not only of the people we loved but of the parts inside us they helped to create.
I saw how badly she was hurting, even if it no longer resonated within me.
“I’m sorry. He was a good man, and I would have preferred if it would have been me instead.” It was all the comfort I had to give her.
It was the truth.
Handling my own pain was enough of a chore, I couldn’t find that place inside myself to sit down with her and cry for the life that was lost. Trying to find words of comfort was nearing an impossible task, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d been molded to be this way or if it was the human condition itself.
“Take as much time as you need, my home is yours Chiyo,” I told her, walking towards the entrance and leaving her to mourn privately, unsure if that was even what she really needed.
“Señorita, you have a guest in the piano room,” my maid let me know as soon as I stepped through the door.
