Becoming Rain: A Novel
Becoming Rain: Chapter 53

The family limousine takes the winding road toward our family vault, located in one of the older sections of River View.

“This cemetery is beautiful,” Rain murmurs from beside me, her hand tucked within mine, where it has been for the morning, her thumb rubbing soothingly against mine.

I glance out to see the crop of Japanese maples, their trunks gnarly, twisted forms, covered in moss. “Those trees used to freak me out,” I admit, realizing just how long it’s been since I’ve been here to visit my grandpa’s grave.

“Remember Deda used to tell us that faeries danced in those woods at night for Baba?” Ana pipes up with a sad smile, adjusting one of her big curls. She’s back to her normal, perfectly packaged self. My mother, on the other hand, hasn’t done as well, the heavy black makeup only highlighting the puffiness around her eyes. She hasn’t been back to work since Rust’s death and I doubt she has plans to go back anytime soon. I’m sure I’ll be covering her bills for a while.

So many cars line the road near the plot site. For a guy who didn’t want a service or a wake, there are a ton of people lingering in the light drizzle for him. The guys from the garage all stand in a quiet row, waiting to help carry the casket to the gravesite. They’re hardly recognizable in their suits.

The black Barracuda tells me that Jesse’s here. I wonder if Alex came with him. I don’t think anyone would care, one way or another, if they recognized her. Viktor’s long gone.

Even Priscilla’s here, struggling to make her way through the grass in spikey heels, her arm linked with a guy I’ve seen at The Cellar. Plenty of other familiar faces from the club are also here. Rust was a permanent fixture there, after all.

There are also plenty of people I don’t know, and don’t care to know. I keep my head down and hold Rain’s hand as we make our way to the giant oak tree where I’ve stood twice before, overlooking the snow-capped mountains in the far distance.

Rust always said they had prime real estate around here.

My arm wrapped around Rain’s body on one side and my mom’s on the other, we stand in a quiet row under black umbrellas as a solemn man in a suit reads scriptures in Russian. My mom’s addition. I didn’t fight her on it because I know Rust wouldn’t have wanted me to.

The entire thing lasts no more than fifteen minutes. Then the sea of black umbrellas begins to disperse, and I finally bother to take in faces. I see Miller standing next to a short, round woman. On her side are three girls in simple dark dresses, I assume his daughters.

One sits in a wheelchair, her frail legs dangling, the muscles in her face slackened.

I realize how little I know about a guy my uncle trusted to run his business for the last decade. I’m guessing he hasn’t had it easy. Nor has his kid. And here I’ve had everything handed to me on a platter. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

But now it makes more sense why he’s been helping Rust with the “other” business.

I’m considering walking over there and introducing myself to them when Rain’s body tenses beneath my touch. “What’s wrong?” I follow her stare to a line of hard-faced men in black suits standing on the far side. Vlad, like a statue next to his father.

Adrenaline and shock shoots through my limbs.

“No, Luke.” Rain yanks on my arm, keeping me close, a split second before I charge over there and punch him square in his misshapen nose.

I bow my head and hiss, “He kills Rust and then shows up at his funeral!”

Her cool fingers touch my cheek, pulling my face to hers. Her eyes pleading. “Don’t do anything. Don’t say anything.”

“How can I do that?”

“You have to,” she urges, roping her arm around my back. “The less he thinks you suspect, the safer it is for you and your family, right?” She grits her teeth. “If he comes over to offer his condolences, you take it. You hear me? You know nothing. You suspect nothing. No one knows anything. Okay?”

“Jesus.” How the hell can I do that? I inhale deeply. If I was on edge before, now I’m hanging by a branch over a cliff.

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