“Unbelievable,” she whispers.

Mace must sense the importance of what is happening, because he says nothing, and the four of us appreciate the beauty of the entire ceremony. We can’t hear the words she sings, but the melody rings clear in our ears. Akela continues her mournful song for a little while longer, and when she is finished, she opens the urn, tilts it, and lets the wind carry the ashes. Moments pass, but no one speaks as we watch Lana’s remains floating free on the breeze. I look back towards my brother to see him lift his shades and swipe at his eyes before allowing them to once again cover his anguish and grief.

“That was beautiful. I assume she’s a relative?”

With Berry’s question, my attention snaps back to Lana’s grieving sister. Her body slumped in a defeated stance, and her shoulders hiccupping with each breath in and out, is one of the saddest things I have ever witnessed. People assume pain like this isn’t visible, but it is. One look at Akela and her pain is clearly written all over her.

I force my sight off Akela to look at Berry. “Her sister.”

“Oh, dear,” Berry whispers as her shaky hands grip the purse at her side. When she looks at me, her broken expression reveals the pain the club has felt and the pain Akela is experiencing. So much of our misery is stacked in her gaze that my chest burns.

“I only came by to drop Mace off…” she trails off as if she needs to offer an excuse.

When I don’t say anything in return, her gaze seeks out Akela once again, a hiccup escaping her throat as she finds her.

Of all the things that have happened today, this one occasion has shocked us all to the core. Lana may have only been here for a short time, but she made an impact on the lives of everyone she touched. Even though I didn’t know her well, the times we did talk let me know she was a genuine person with a kind heart. It was a tragic event, and most won’t ever heal from it.

As Akela leaves the roof of the live-in, everything stops while we wait for her to enter the courtyard. Moments later, she comes out the door, looks around, and once her eyes land on him, she heads straight for Pyro. Her movements are delicate and beautiful for someone feeling so much pain. When she stops in front of him, she places one hand on his cheek and hands him the urn while speaking to him in a gentle, soothing voice. Even though her words are too quiet for us to hear, we can see their faces, and his expression contorts into the purest agony I have ever seen in my life. She brings her hand down, and he gestures for her to follow him. He must be showing her the slam room, or they might be going somewhere to talk. I hope that everyone leaves them alone. Pyro needs this time with someone from Lana’s family in order to gain some sort of peace from losing her.

“Without getting into their business, can someone please tell me a little of what just happened?”

Shit. Poor Mace. I completely forgot he wasn’t even here when all this went down. The look on his face is one of pure confusion, so I dig out a smoke, light it, and explain. “You’ve heard us talk about the run-in with the Russians, and the people who were murdered, right? And the woman that Pyro was, or rather, still is in love with, was one of them.” I tug my hair as the image of Akela releasing Lana’s ashes plays through my mind. “Well, that’s Lana’s sister, Akela. We had no fucking clue there was a sister, so when she came to the gate with this fucking letter that Lana wrote, it fucking rocked the club. She didn’t even know Lana was dead. Man, this shit is fucked up,” I convey with lungs full of smoke.

Mace nods his head, understanding the awkwardness a little better.

“I think I will grill a big dinner for the family tonight. Mace, will you help me?” Berry interrupts us, and Mace smiles at his grandmother, wraps his arm around her shoulder, and tells her to lead the way.

My shoulders slump forward as the events of the day wear on my body. I trudge across the compound parking lot and into the live-in building. Each step up the stairs feels like ten as I climb the stairs to the floor where my room is. Once I reach my door and unlock it, I walk in and flop face down on my bed. The soft, pillow top mattress soothes my aching body upon impact, and I groan in relief. When my sunglasses dig into my face, I lift my head enough to tear them off and toss them on my nightstand. As my head hits the bed again, I notice my door standing wide open, which is unlike me. I like my privacy and it wins out, so I drag myself back up to close it. Once it clicks shut, I kick off my boots and shrug out of my cut. My shirt follows and my jeans last. I flip the switch that turns on my ceiling fan. I move to my bed and sit on the edge while I burrow my face into my hands and rub them back and forth to lessen some of the tension from my pounding migraine.

After it subsides enough for me to lay down, I flop back and sink down onto my comforter, close my eyes, and drift off to sleep, vowing not to wake until the following day.

***

Chapter Eleven

Tatiana

When I wake to the smell of bacon, I look over at my clock and realize I have slept for fourteen hours. That showdown must have done a number on me if I was asleep that long. I throw back my sheet, sit up, and reach for the clip attached to the post of my bed. I twist my hair and pin it up out of my face while I walk towards the bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I finish scrubbing them clean, I swish a little mouthwash, spit it out, and let the water rinse it down the drain. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Although it looks as if I’m well rested, it doesn’t feel that way to me. My eyes look bluer, my skin appears clearer, but peering into my own soul, I know my reflection is a false image.