The following days blurred together. Between the press swarming for statements about Viper's sudden death and the private family arrangements being made behind closed doors, Leon hardly had a moment to himself.
Kalen had been discharged from the hospital, his body mostly healed though his eyes carried the weight of what he'd witnessed. Leon had arranged for him to stay under heavy security, not taking any chances.
One late evening, Leon sat on the terrace of the estate where they were preparing for the burial. A glass of whiskey rested in his hand, untouched. Nico joined him, slumping into the chair opposite with a sigh.
"They covered their tracks too well," Nico muttered, scrolling through encrypted reports on his tablet. "Whoever hit Viper's house knew exactly what they were doing. No prints. No witnesses. Nothing but a bloodbath."
Leon's jaw tightened. "That doesn't surprise me. Viper wasn't short on enemies. Anyone could've wanted him gone, and most of them would've had the means."
"True," Nico agreed, rubbing a hand over his face. "But it's like they wanted to send a message—not just kill him. Leave Kalen alive, let him crawl out of that wreckage… it doesn't sit right with me."
Leon's gaze shifted toward the garden where Ayla was walking slowly beside Kalen, making sure he didn't strain himself. His chest tightened at the sight.
"They're already in enough pain," Leon said quietly. "The last thing I want is to burden them with the truth that we have no trail to follow. Not yet."
Nico nodded, leaning back. "We'll find something. These ghosts can't stay invisible forever."
Leon finally took a sip of the whiskey, the burn sharp down his throat. "For now, let's focus on the burial. Viper might not have been a saint, but he was still their blood. He deserves to be buried with dignity."
Nico gave a small, wry smile. "That's one thing no enemy can take from him."
The two men sat in silence for a moment, the weight of loss and unfinished battles hanging heavy in the night air. Somewhere beyond the walls of the estate, Ayla's quiet laugh reached Leon's ears, a fleeting sound of peace he silently vowed to protect at all costs.
The morning of the burial came quietly, the skies heavy with clouds as though the heavens themselves mourned Viper. Despite his infamous reputation, the service was private, reserved only for close family and those who had stood by him in life. Leon handled the logistics, ensuring everything was organized with dignity, while Ayla prepared herself to face a reality she hadn't been ready for.
Dressed in a simple black dress, Ayla stood beside Kalen, who looked pale but determined, his arm still bandaged from the night of the ambush. Leon stood a step behind them, ever watchful, his presence a silent pillar of strength.
The casket lay draped in dark silk, surrounded by white lilies. The priest's words of finality echoed over the small gathering, but it was Ayla who drew every eye when she stepped forward, her hands trembling slightly as she held onto the paper she had written on. After a pause, she folded it away, choosing instead to speak from the heart.
"My father was… a complicated man," she began, her voice steady despite the tears that shimmered in her eyes. "He wasn't perfect, and he lived a life that many would never understand. But to me… he was still my father. The man who taught me how to stand on my own two feet, who reminded me that strength isn't about never falling, but about getting back up again."
She glanced at Kalen briefly, then back at the casket. "He didn't always show his love in the ways most people expect. But it was there, in his own way—hidden in the sacrifices he made, in the lessons he passed down, and even in his silence. He wanted more for us, even if he didn't know how to give it."
A soft breath escaped her lips, shaky but full of resolve. "I choose to remember him not for the enemies he had or the mistakes he made, but for the father he tried to be. I'll carry that with me for the rest of my life."
Her words broke into quiet sobs, but Leon was already by her side, steadying her before she completely faltered. She leaned into him for a moment, drawing strength, then returned to Kalen's side.
Kalen, though quiet, laid a single white rose on the casket, his jaw tight with restrained grief. He didn't speak, but his silence was its own kind of mourning.
The priest gave the final blessing, and the casket was lowered into the earth. The crowd stood still, the only sounds being the rustle of wind through the trees and the soft sobs of those gathered.
Leon's hand lingered at Ayla's back as the soil was gently cast over the grave. He felt her tremble, but she didn't crumble. She stood, holding her brother's hand, her eyes wet but fierce.
In that moment, Leon realized something: Ayla was stronger than even she knew. And though her world had just lost another piece, she wasn't broken. Not yet.