Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I... I don’t understand. How...” Half-formed questions die on my lips as tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
Braken drops his gaze before he looks back up at me. “I can help you get back to Seattle. I’m sure your family is looking for you.”
“I don’t think...” I start, my voice shaky. It’s hard to concentrate, hard to form a single coherent sentence while the world crumbles at my feet. “I don’t think I can face them...not yet.”
“They need to know you’re safe.”
I cross my arms, hugging myself tightly. In some corner of my mind, I am aware of the absurdity of my situation—finding solace in the arms of a stranger while the world around me descends into chaos.
He’s right, however. Of course he’s right. I can’t hide anymore. I can’t run.
“I can do it,” I finally say, feeling the floodgates getting ready to erupt, but refusing to let them. “I can get back to Seattle on my own.”
Chapter 9
Fiora
Mason’s urn is solid gold and shimmers in the parlor’s lighting.
My brother always loved gold. He wore a gold hoop in his left ear since I could remember, even when I told him it was no longer fashionable. He didn’t care. He did things his way, and no one dared to question him.
He was a male Godwin, which meant he could do what he wanted.
Gold made him feel powerful, I suppose.
The only time he took off his gold Poseidon Trident necklace was to shower. Three gem-infused gold rings adorned fingers on both of his hands because, as he always said, “Three’s a party, but four’s a crowd, Fiora. It’s the perfect amount.”
That jewelry was the only way to identify his body after someone fucking murdered him.
The funeral parlor is full of people offering condolences, but I only know half of them. I’m not privy to the full details of the Godwin business dealings because I’ve never needed to be. So much good that has done me. Mason was the heir to the family and the only man out of the four of us. Now that he’s gone, I’m next in line… I suppose.
Which means my whole life changed the second that car bomb went off.
I turn away from the urn before I decide to pick it up and throw it across the room. Ever since I got that dreaded visit from Braken, I’ve been so angry. Angry at Mason because why did he go to that baseball game? Angry at whoever decided my only brother was better off charcoal than human. And mostly angry at myself, because his killer is still out there, and I’m stuck in here, smiling at people I don’t give a shit about, not when my entire world has been flipped upside down.
“Fiora,” someone with a deep voice calls from my right.
I turn to face my father. Hector Godwin is as tall as he is menacing. There’s a reason the Godwins run the Pacific Northwest and even beyond, and the proof is in the large scar on his jaw and callused hands. His salt-and-pepper black hair is slicked back, almost as slick as his black Armani suit. The sight of it turns my stomach. This is his funeral suit, saved for only the worst of occasions. It hadn’t been worn in such a long time. Why did it have to be for Mason, of all people?
“Yes, Papa?”
“It’s time for the eulogies. Round up your sisters so we can speak.” He narrows his eyes, and his jaw tightens. “Unless you don’t think you can stick around long enough to do that. Care to run off again before we lower your brother into the ground?”
He’s still angry I left, but I suppose I should feel lucky that he hasn’t raged on me yet. Mason’s death has taken up all his time, and when I returned home, he only asked where the hell I had been, and why should he let me back in now. But then he didn’t give me a chance to answer before he stormed out of the room I stood in.
He lowers his eyes to my septum piercing. “The least you could have done is remove that ridiculous thing for your brother’s funeral.”
I touch the jewelry. “Oh… yes, sorry. I will.”
I don’t know why I feel the need to cater to his every request. The grip he has on me…
I want to argue. Scream. Make a scene. Tell Papa that I don’t think I can get through my speech for Mason without bursting into tears and embarrassing our family. That’s the one thing I was always taught not to do. Any embarrassment reflects badly on all of us.
Papa gets pulled away by someone I don’t recognize but somehow seems important, so I have time to look through the sea of people to find Jescie and Sable. Sable is in conversation with one of her school friends, while Jescie stands by the back window, gazing out to the dark clouds and rain, holding a half-drunk glass of wine. No doubt it’s one of Mason’s favorites in his honor. In Jescie’s mind, it wouldn’t be right to have a remembrance without. She has always been the sentimental one in the family.