THE BLACK VESPER

THE FUNERAL AMBUSH

Chapter 4

The sky over Kingston was heavy with thick clouds, an omen of the storm that mirrored Nathan's inner turmoil. He stood rigid at the edge of the grave, his eyes locked on the polished casket that contained what was left of Lizzy. The intricate craftsmanship of the rare, luxury wood felt like an insult to her simplicity. She had hated anything flashy, always preferring quiet moments and understated beauty. Now, all that was left of her warmth was buried under the weight of ritual and grief.

This wasn’t just a burial—it was a declaration.

The small gathering around the gravesite was handpicked for trustworthiness. Simon, Nathan's ever loyal enforcer, and brother stood slightly apart, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter of the cemetery like a predator. Lizzy's grieving sister sat huddled on a bench nearby, her sobs muffled against a lace handkerchief. The other mourners were shadows in black coats, solemn and silent as they bowed their heads in respect. At the center of it all, the priest's voice rose faintly over the restless wind, reciting the last rites in a cadence that barely registered in Nathan's ears.

He wasn’t listening. He couldn’t. His focus was fractured, his mind a cauldron of grief, rage, and guilt. The words floated around him like smoke, insubstantial and meaningless.

Simon, standing with military precision a few feet away, didn’t share Nathan’s detachment. His body was a coiled spring, one hand casually resting near the concealed holster of his Desert Eagle. Even with Nathan’s orders to keep the ceremony discreet, no bodyguards, no entourage, Simon’s instincts couldn’t be silenced.

“Nathan,” Simon murmured suddenly, his tone low and tight.

Nathan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on Lizzy’s grave.

“Nathan,” Simon repeated, his voice sharp enough to cut through the fog of grief. “We’ve got company.”

Nathan blinked, dragging himself out of his daze. “What?”

Simon tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips barely moving. “Two o’clock. Edge of the woods.”

Nathan shifted his gaze subtly, his body stiffening. Among the dense shadows of the trees, a lone figure stood, half hidden by the underbrush. They were dressed in a dark overall suit, their face obscured by a wide brimmed black hat pulled low. Though motionless, their presence was unnerving. Nathan could feel their gaze like a cold weight on his chest.

Simon’s hand moved toward his gun. “Do you want me to...”

“No,” Nathan cut him off, his voice sharp. He glanced back at the priest, who was nearing the final blessing. “We finish this first.”

Simon didn’t argue, though his posture radiated tension. His eyes flicked constantly between the figure in the woods and the mourners, who remained oblivious to the growing danger.

The priest’s words came to an end, and Lizzy’s casket began its slow descent into the earth. Nathan clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. This was supposed to be a moment of closure, a final goodbye. But then the world erupted.

CRACK!

The gunshot tore through the stillness like a lightning strike, silencing the priest mid sentence. His body jerked violently as a bloom of red spread across his chest. He crumpled to the ground, his white robes stark against the dark soil now stained with blood.

“DOWN!” Simon roared, throwing himself at Nathan and tackling him to the dirt.

Panic erupted as the mourners scattered, their black coats flapping like frightened birds. Nathan hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. Simon’s weight pressed down on him, shielding him as another shot rang out. This one struck the casket, splintering the polished wood.

Simon rolled off Nathan, his Desert Eagle already drawn and aimed toward the woods. “Stay down!” he barked.

Nathan ignored him. His fury burned hotter than fear as he pushed himself up, his eyes scanning for the shooter. The figure was gone, swallowed by the shadows.

“Where is he?” Nathan growled, his voice shaking with rage.

“Gone,” Simon spat. He grabbed Nathan by the collar and dragged him behind a gravestone for cover. “And if you don’t stop acting like a goddamn target, you’ll be next.”

Nathan’s hands itched for his Glock, but Simon smacked his arm away. “Stay down, damn it!” he snapped.

Another shot rang out, chipping the gravestone inches from Nathan’s head. Simon fired back, the roar of his Desert Eagle echoing across the cemetery. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the distant wails of mourners fleeing toward the gates.

Simon didn’t wait. He hauled Nathan to his feet and half dragged him toward the car parked just beyond the cemetery. Nathan resisted, his eyes still fixed on Lizzy’s grave.

“Move!” Simon growled. “Do you want to die here?”

With a snarl of frustration, Nathan relented, allowing Simon to shove him into the passenger seat before jumping into the driver’s side. The moment the doors slammed shut, Simon floored the gas. Gravel sprayed as the car tore down the dirt path, leaving the chaos of the cemetery behind.

Nathan’s breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as he glared at Simon. “Who the hell were they?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, his jaw set like stone. Before he could respond, Nathan saw it: a sleek black motorcycle closing in fast.

“s**t,” Simon muttered.

The rider was clad in black leather, their face obscured by a dark helmet. They maneuvered with precision, the engine roaring as they closed the distance.

Nathan’s hand went to his Glock. “Pull over,” he barked.

“Are you insane?” Simon shot back, his grip tightening on the wheel.

The motorcycle drew level with the car. The rider reached into his jacket, and Nathan braced himself, expecting a weapon. Instead, he tossed an envelope through the open window.

It landed on Nathan’s lap. Before he could react, the motorcycle swerved sharply, disappearing down a side road.

Nathan ripped the envelope open with shaking hands. Inside was a single sheet of paper, the words scrawled in neat, flowing Latin: “Cervicem tuam protege, venimus.”

“What the hell does this mean?” Nathan demanded.

Simon’s face darkened. “Protect your neck. We’re coming.”

Nathan stared at the note, his fury igniting anew. “Who’s coming?”

Simon exhaled sharply, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “The Crimson Serpents.”

The name hit Nathan like a punch to the gut. They were the cartel that had killed their father, the shadowy force that had haunted his family for years. He thought he’d buried them, buried the past but now they were back, bringing destruction with them.

“They don’t just kill,” Simon said grimly. “They send messages. Lizzy wasn’t just a target, Nathan. She was bait.”

Nathan’s stomach twisted violently. His grief turned into a searing, unrelenting rage. “For me.”

Simon nodded. “And now they’re coming to finish what they started.”

Nathan’s grip on his Glock tightened, his vision tunneling as a singular thought consumed him: revenge.

“Then we don’t wait,” he said, his voice cold and steady. “We take the fight to them.”

Simon glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “This isn’t a game, Nathan. They’re not just some street gang. They’re an empire built on blood.”

Nathan’s jaw clenched. “Then it’s time to burn it down.”

Simon didn’t respond, but the weight of what lay ahead settled heavily between them. The storm in the sky mirrored the one brewing in Nathan’s heart a storm that would soon unleash hell on Kingston.