Lucian was standing alone. The wind caught his coat, making him look like Batman against the grey sky. Brianna couldn't see his face, but from the set of his shoulders, he looked... heavy.
Her breath hitched as Lucian knelt. And he placed a bouquet of white lilies—not the rare roses his mother loved, but simple, humble lilies—on a fresh grave. He stayed there for a long time, his head bowed in a way that didn't look like prayer. It looked like a silent apology.
He hasn't lost any family members recently. So who is this?
As Lucian turned to head back to the car, Brianna grabbed Rochelle's arm. "Go. Get the car started and bring it to the side gate. I need to see the name on that grave."
"You're staying here? In the city of the dead? Alone?"
"Go!"
Rochelle rushed away, muttering about dry cleaning bills and ant bites. Brianna waited until the sound of Lucian's feet faded into the distance before she emerged from behind the headstone.
