Chapter 44

Funeral Flowers

Luca Moretti attended Adrian Volkov’s funeral in black leather gloves and a loaded gun beneath his coat.

Not because he mourned him.

Because he still didn’t trust death completely.

Rain poured over Brooklyn Cemetery in cold gray sheets while black umbrellas crowded silently around the closed casket lowered beside marble gravestones. Wind bent funeral flowers sideways across muddy ground while distant thunder rolled somewhere above the city skyline.

Perfect weather for burying traitors.

Luca stood motionless near the front row while priests mumbled hollow prayers nobody listening believed anymore.

Around him, surviving captains avoided direct eye contact.

Interesting.

Fear smelled stronger than lilies.

The casket remained sealed tightly beneath silver handles and white roses.

No viewing.

Too much damage from the explosion.

That was the official story.

Luca stared at the polished black coffin while rain slid slowly down his collar.

Adrian Volkov.

Mercenary.

Federal informant.

Bodyguard.

Traitor.

For three years Luca had watched the man move through his empire quietly like winter itself. Calm. Efficient. Empty-eyed enough that nobody questioned violence following him naturally.

And somehow Luca still missed it.

That irritated him more than betrayal.

A nervous captain stepped carefully beside him beneath an umbrella.

“Boss.”

Luca didn’t look away from the casket.

“What.”

“We confirmed the warehouse fire destroyed everything inside.”

Bodies.

Records.

DNA evidence.

All arranged carefully enough that federal databases now officially considered Adrian Volkov deceased.

The captain swallowed hard before continuing.

“No survivors recovered.”

Luca’s jaw tightened faintly.

No survivors.

Yet somehow the absence still felt wrong.

Because men like Adrian rarely died accidentally.

They disappeared violently on purpose.

The priest finished speaking.

Nobody applauded.

One by one, mourners approached the casket laying white flowers across polished wood before retreating quickly back into the rain.

Nobody lingered long.

Even funerals felt dangerous around Luca now.

As they should.

He stepped toward the coffin finally.

The cemetery fell quieter instantly.

Watching.

Always watching him.

Luca removed one black glove slowly before resting his hand against the polished casket lid.

Cold wood.

Silent box.

Empty feeling.

“You should’ve stayed loyal,” he murmured quietly.

Rainwater slid down the coffin edges in silver streams.

Luca almost laughed.

Because even now Adrian managed to ruin things elegantly.

The betrayal wasn’t operational anymore.

That part Luca understood.

Informants existed everywhere.

No.

The real insult was personal.

Adrian chose her.

That still fascinated him.

Valentina Moretti.

The woman who once sat silently beside cathedral windows pretending obedience while secretly memorizing where powerful men hid weakness.

Luca had mistaken quietness for submission.

Critical error.

He understood that now.

A second captain approached carefully through the rain.

“Sir, the Russians are moving into Jersey ports already.”

“Let them.”

“They’re taking territory.”

Luca finally turned slowly away from the casket.

“Territory can be reclaimed.”

The captain hesitated visibly afterward.

Wrong decision.

Luca noticed instantly.

“What.”

“The press leaks keep spreading.”

Of course they did.

Every newspaper in New York now carried stories about offshore trafficking routes, bribed politicians, missing witnesses, and federal corruption tied directly to Moretti finances.

Rats abandoned sinking ships quickly.

Cowards even faster.

Luca adjusted the black cufflinks beneath his coat calmly.

“And Valentina?”

The captain swallowed again.

“Nobody’s seen her since Vermont.”

Lie.

Not complete lie.

But fear already poisoned loyalty inside the organization.

Good.

Fear made weak men easier to identify before killing them.

Luca looked back once more toward Adrian’s coffin beneath rain and funeral flowers.

Interesting.

Because instead of satisfaction—

he felt annoyance.

The kind lingering betrayal left behind once violence failed to close emotional wounds properly.

“You know what his problem was?” Luca asked quietly.

The captain looked confused immediately.

“Sir?”

“Volkov kept pretending morality and affection could exist in the same body.” Luca’s mouth curved faintly. “That always ends badly.”

Another silence settled over the gravesite afterward.

Rain softened slightly.

Thunder moved farther away across the city.

Then suddenly—

one of Luca’s guards approached rapidly through the cemetery rows holding a phone.

Urgent.

Wrong.

“Boss.”

Luca accepted the phone without expression.

“What.”

The voice on the other end sounded panicked.

“Financial Tower breach.”

The cemetery atmosphere shifted instantly.

Cold.

Sharp.

Luca’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“How many?”

“Unknown. Security feeds went dark three minutes ago.”

Not police.

Too clean.

Too fast.

Luca looked slowly back toward Adrian’s closed casket.

Then toward the funeral flowers bending beneath rain.

Understanding arrived gradually.

Not dead.

Of course not.

A faint smile touched Luca’s mouth then.

Real smile this time.

Dangerous smile.

Because suddenly everything made sense again.

The fake warehouse explosion.

The closed casket.

The missing bodies.

Volkov didn’t die.

Volkov disappeared.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Luca handed the phone back calmly before reaching down toward the white rose resting atop the coffin.

He picked it up slowly.

Crushed the stem between gloved fingers.

Then quietly murmured toward the sealed casket:

“You lied beautifully too.”

The cemetery wind carried the words away through rain and gravestones.

And somewhere across Manhattan—

war finally entered its last phase.