Page 190 of The Final Cut

The church empties in slow waves.

Women in black. Men with red-rimmed eyes and flat mouths. A few old men with canes. A girl younger than me clutching a handkerchief and staring at the floor. The priest disappears through a side door. The last of the ordinary mourners leaves, though ordinary is doing generous work in a room like this.

At last, only the useful remain.

Volkovs. La Rosa.

And us.

Isabel rises.

For one tiny second, her steps stutter when she turns toward the aisle and sees us still seated at the back.

It is so quick most people would miss it.

I don’t. Neither does Delia.

Her mouth curves by a hair.

Isabel recovers beautifully. I’ll give her that. She straightens, adjusts one glove, and begins walking down the aisle with the slow, wicked smile of a woman who thinks the game is still arranged in her favor. Her remaining guard falls in behind her, though he looks less certain with every step.

She pauses beside Konstantin Volkov near the front.

“Konstantin.” Her voice is soft enough to make the church lean in. “Your father was a formidable man. His absence will be felt.”

Konstantin inclines his head. “By some.”

The answer is bland. Isabel’s smile tightens.

She rests a gloved hand lightly on the end of a pew. “I hope your family’s good sense did not go into the grave with him.”

“My family has an abundance of taste.”

“Then you understand there is business to settle.”

His gaze moves briefly toward us from beneath a lowered brow, then returns to her. “Yes.”

“Good.” Isabel’s voice warms. “Take care of it for me.”

The request sounds like silk. We all hear the chain beneath it. Konstantin studies her for a long, quiet moment, a barely there smile playing on full lips.

Then he turns his head toward the back of the church. When he speaks, his voice is loud enough to carry. “I did offer to take care of her.”

Her.

Me? Maybe Delia. Maybe all the daughters Isabel has spent years turning into problems.

My body goes still. Shiloh’s hand finds mine again. This time, he keeps it.

Konstantin continues, “But I hear they would prefer to exact their own vengeance for their father’s death.”

He looks directly at me. Then at Delia. Something like pride shines in his eyes, cold and unexpected.

“I understand this.”

Delia stands first.

I feel it happen beside me…inside me…before I make myself move. My knees hold, a phenomenon worth noting. Shiloh releases my hand, and I step into the aisle with my sister.