Den of Vipers

“You sure you’re okay, baby?” I ask, and she licks her lips and nods.

I was sent in here to check on her. We are all dressed and ready, but everyone can wait until she’s ready to go. We only told her yesterday that today would be Sam’s funeral. She liked him, and we knew this would be hard for her, but it’s important we go. Her black dress is modest and falls just below her knees, her leather boots leading up to meet the hem. Her makeup is kept to a minimum, but her necklace, which she never takes off, is the only colour. She looks fucking beautiful without even trying.

And sad.

She liked Sam, she had become friends with him even, though we threatened him. And now he’s dead, and his funeral is today. I know she’s struggling and she feels guilty, blaming herself and missing him. She needs comfort right now, and I’m not the best choice for that, but she has no one else here right now, so me it is.

Wrapping my arms around her, I drag her back to my chest as I look at her in the mirror. “You’ve got this, baby, all eyes will be on us today, but you can do this. We will be right there. Just hold it together for a little longer, and you can break all you need to later, I promise.”

“I don’t care about the eyes, I care about his family,” she snaps, and then sighs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry for caring,” I murmur, and kiss her cheek. “But we need to go, baby.”

“I know,” she whispers, and then shakes herself. “Okay.”

She slips on some shades before turning and placing her hand in mine. I lead her out and down to the cars, where everyone is waiting. Tony is there to drive us in the limo, and everyone is wearing black suits. The scene is morbid.

Roxy drags me over to Tony, not letting go of my hand like it’s a lifeline. He smiles down at her sadly, and she returns it. “Are you okay?” she asks him.

Our selfless Viper. She might be a cruel bitch sometimes, but she has a heart of fucking gold when it comes to people she cares for.

“He was a good friend, but he loved what he did.” He sighs. “Doesn’t mean I won’t miss the kid.”

Roxy nods. “I’m sorry, Tony, I really am. Take as much time off as you need, and we will be here for you,” she offers, without questioning the fact that she just ordered our staff around. It makes me smirk and Ryder laughs before coughing to cover it up.

Tony smiles at her. “Yes, Miss Roxy, thank you. But I would rather be here protecting you.”

Goddamn this man, now we can’t kill him and he knows it.

Roxy nods and leans up to kiss his cheek, but freezes and looks at us, her eyes narrowed. “You kill him, and I chop off your dicks.” She kisses him before letting me pull her off to the limo.

Ryder grabs her throat and drags her closer as Diesel presses to her back. “One-time exception, love.”

Diesel sniffs her neck. “I’ll still kill him,” he threatens.

It makes her laugh and glance back at him. “No, you won’t, because it would hurt me, and unless it’s physical pain, you hate it.”

Diesel snarls and pulls away. “Bloody little bird, too smart for her own good.”

It makes her smile though, and that is what we all wanted. Kenzo leans down and kisses her softly. “I won’t let them, darling. Come on, it’s time, and then we can come back and eat pizza and drink beer.” He straightens and winces in pain, making her sigh.

I, myself, don’t let the pain show, even though each step tugs on my stitches and makes me want to punch someone, but she knows because she walks slower than normal, and when I slip stiffly into the limo, she smiles and kisses me. Fuck, I’d get tortured every goddamn day if this is the result.

The drive to the church doesn’t take long. Roxy sits between us, quiet for once, and when we pull up to the busy car park and see the cameras there, she winces. They might not have known Sam, but they knew we were coming, as are some of the most powerful people in the city. It’s almost a celebrity funeral.

As soon as our door opens, they are there, firing questions and taking pictures. It’s not the first time. We manage to avoid the press frequently, but being the bachelors of the city, as they call us, it happens every now and again. I know Ryder and Kenzo had to deal with it for their mother’s funeral too.

But we know how to handle it.

Ryder takes Roxy’s hand. We already decided to present her with him to the press to keep her safe and the questions at bay. He slips out and wraps an arm around her, ignoring the cameras as I push through, with Diesel and Kenzo behind them, to part the crowd. We walk quickly, but not too fast, to the church, only relaxing when the door shuts.

Heading down the aisle, we take one of the front pews, and I glance over to see Sam’s widow alone on the other side. Tears slowly roll down her cheeks, and her eyes are faraway. Her hands are clenched together in her lap, trying to hold it together. Roxy follows my gaze and sucks in a breath before getting to her feet.

I grab for her, but she sidesteps my hand and, ignoring the people staring, she covers the distance and sits next to Sam’s widow, silently taking her hand and holding it. The woman glances over in shock, but Roxy doesn’t talk or prod, just sits there for her.

We nod at Tony, and he goes and sits on the woman’s other side. I hate that Roxy is so far away, but I know why she did it—so Sam’s wife wouldn’t be alone. I can’t protest or drag her back though, because the ceremony starts.

It’s a good one as far as funerals go, and when we are directed to the cemetery nearby, Roxy finally heads over to us and leans into Ryder’s side. He kisses her cheek and follows everyone out of the church, where the cameras are still waiting, photographing everything, the bright bulbs flashing and making me growl. I once smashed their cameras, I’m tempted to now, but I can’t. This isn’t about us.

Not today.

So I endure it, but I stick close to Roxy just in case. We circle around her, creating a protective bubble as we head through the grass and old stones. While we walk across the grass, Roxy finally speaks. “I was alone at Rich’s funeral, no one should go through that alone,” she whispers.

We say nothing, but we press closer, hating that she was alone when she needed us. If only we found her sooner, but she’s right, we can’t change the past, only how we act in the future, and Roxy will never be alone again.

We all stand in the wind around the grave as the coffin is lowered into it. When it’s over and people start to disappear, Roxy leans down and throws some dirt on the wood. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice choked.

“Baby,” I murmur.

She stands and looks over at us, tears in her eyes and anger vibrating from her body. There is nothing we can do to help, and I hate that. I feel fucking useless. My fists clench at my sides with the need to hurt, to destroy, and help. But she needs softness, kindness right now, and I don’t know how to offer that.

She doesn’t care that we have no softness. She reaches for us anyway.

There, with cameras and the eyes of the city on us, she reaches for all of us. We all share a look. We are not embarrassed by our relationship, and anyone who has anything to say can die, but we didn’t want her reputation ruined. We are helpless, however, when it comes to her. So Diesel presses to her side, and I hold her hand as Ryder presses against her back. Kenzo grips her other hand.

With her in the middle of us all, I hear gasps and whispers, but we don’t care. This isn’t about us today, but a man who gave his life to save ours. A true fucking hero.