Chapter 131 *
Scarlett’s POV
I mentally cursed myself. Stupid. So stupid.
"When the terrorists attacked the hospital." I tried to sound casual. Breezy. "Some masked guy saved me and Dr. Patterson. No big deal."
Damon's eyes narrowed. "Why are you suddenly thinking about him?"
Good question. Excellent question. One I definitely did not have a good answer for.
"It's nothing." I looked away. Stared very intently at the passing trees.
"Scarlett."
"Really. It's nothing."
I could feel him watching me. Could feel his gaze burning into the side of my face.
"The nurses said he carried you to the ER."
I blinked. How did he know that?
"Yeah. He did."
"So why are you thinking about him?"
The suspicion in his voice was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Oh my God. He thinks I have a crush on Ronin.
The realization hit me like a truck.
The most powerful crime boss in New York was jealous.
This was insane. My scalp was tingling from how hard he was staring at me.
I needed to fix this. "Look." I turned to face him properly. "Even if I was desperate and dying alone, I'd stay far away from that guy."
Instead of relaxing, his frown got deeper.
"Why?"
I blinked. "What do you mean why?"
"Why would you stay away from him?"
His voice was carefully neutral. This was a test.
"Because he's obviously a psychopath?" I said it like it should be obvious. "Did you see his eyes? They looked dead inside. Like he'd murdered people and felt nothing."
Damon's jaw tightened.
"And his temper." I was on a roll now. Fully committed to this bit. "I could tell he was a ticking time bomb. Probably snaps at people for no reason."
Damon cleared his throat. Shifted in his seat.
Was he... uncomfortable?
"The way he moved." I kept going. "Like a trained killer."
Damon went very still. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
"I bet he has serious anger management issues." I was really selling it now. "Probably abusive. Any woman who dated him would live in constant fear."
Damon actually flinched.
"You got all that from one encounter?" His voice came out strained.
"I'm good at reading people." I shrugged. "It's a survival skill."
The car filled with the most uncomfortable silence I'd ever experienced.
I glanced at Damon. His jaw muscle was jumping. Like he was grinding his teeth.
Mission accomplished, I guess. He definitely wasn't jealous anymore.
Though now he looked kind of... hurt? Offended?
Weird.
I decided to change the subject.
"Actually." I shifted in my seat. "When I saw you fighting today. Your combat style kind of reminded me of his."
Damon's head snapped toward me so fast.
"Weird coincidence, right?" I laughed. "Anyway. What's for dinner? I'm starving."
Damon stared at me for a long moment. His expression was completely unreadable.
Then he turned back to the road. Didn't say anything.
The silence stretched out.
I mentally patted myself on the back. Crisis successfully averted. Damon was no longer jealous of the mysterious masked man.
Problem solved.
I pulled out my phone. Started scrolling through random apps. Pretending everything was normal.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Damon's face.
He looked like he was having some kind of internal crisis.
Probably just processing the fact that I thought his fighting style was similar to a psycho killer.
Men were so weird about compliments.
I went back to my phone. The cemetery was still another ten minutes away.
Plenty of time to forget this entire awkward conversation ever happened.
The cemetery gates were exactly how I remembered them. Simple iron bars painted black. A small sign that said "Peaceful Rest Cemetery" in faded letters.
I'd been here dozens of times as a kid. Helping Dad tend to other people's graves when he volunteered on weekends.
Now we were here for his.
The SUV rolled to a stop near the entrance. Damon killed the engine.
I sat there for a moment. My hands were pressed flat against my thighs.
"You okay?" Damon's voice was quiet.
I nodded. Didn't trust myself to speak yet.
He got out first. Walked around to my side. Opened the door.
We walked in silence. My feet knew the way without thinking.
Past the old oak tree. Past the Johnsons' family plot. Past the section where they buried the miners who died in the collapse back in the seventies.
Then I saw it.
Two simple headstones. Gray granite. Nothing fancy.
Simon Quinn
1968 - 2024
Beloved Doctor and Father
Victoria Quinn
1970 - 2024
Forever in Our Hearts
My throat closed up. I stopped walking.
Damon's hand touched my lower back. Just barely. A gentle pressure.
"I'm okay." My voice came out rough. "I'm okay."
I wasn't okay.
We walked closer. Someone had been here recently. There were wilted wildflowers in a mason jar near Dad's headstone. Probably Mrs. Smith from the clinic.
The grass was neatly trimmed. The stones were clean.
People still remembered them. Still visited.
That made it worse somehow.
Damon moved past me. Went back to the SUV without saying anything.
I knelt down in the grass. My knees sank into the soft earth.
"Hi, Dad." The words came out as a whisper. "Hi, Mom."
My fingers traced the letters on Dad's stone. The granite was cold under my touch.
"Sorry it took me so long to come back."
Behind me, I heard Damon returning.
I glanced back.
He was carrying the flowers. The whiskey. The cigars.
My chest did something painful.
He approached the graves like he was entering a church. His expression was serious. Respectful.
He knelt down. Set the two bouquets of red roses carefully in front of the headstones. One for Dad. One for Mom.
Then he picked up the whiskey bottle. Twisted off the cap.
I watched as he poured some onto the ground in front of Dad's grave. The amber liquid soaked into the earth.
This was a tradition. Something you only did for people who mattered. For family.
He did the same for Mom's grave. Poured the whiskey slowly. Then he pulled out the two cigars. He lit them both. The smell of tobacco filled the air.
He placed one cigar in front of each grave. Let them burn.
The smoke rose up into the sky. Thin white trails disappearing into nothing.
Damon stood there for a moment. His head bowed.
He was paying his respects. The way a made man would honor another made man's family.
My eyes were burning. I blinked hard.
This man had never met my parents. But he was treating them like they were sacred.
Damon stepped back. Gave me space.
I turned back to the graves. My vision was blurring.
"I found them." My voice cracked. "My birth family. The Romanos."