Chapter 3: Funeral Flames

The sun beat down mercilessly on the manicured lawns of the Beverly Hills cemetery, turning the black dresses and suits into ovens. Elara Voss stood beside the twin caskets, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. The air smelled of fresh flowers and expensive perfume, but underneath it all lingered the faint metallic memory of blood that refused to leave her nose. Hundreds of people had shown up, their curious eyes hidden behind designer sunglasses. Whispers rippled through the crowd like poison in water.

"Such a tragedy."

"The Voss empire might not survive this."

"I heard it was a professional hit."

Elara gripped the edge of the wooden podium until her knuckles turned white. Jax stood right beside her, a solid wall of muscle in a tailored black suit that stretched across his broad shoulders. His dark wavy hair was combed back, but a few rebellious strands fell across his forehead. He looked every bit the grieving son, except for the way his hazel eyes kept scanning the crowd like he expected another killer to appear among the mourners.

When it was her turn to speak, the words stuck in her throat. Jax’s hand settled low on her back, warm and steady through the thin fabric of her dress. The touch sent an unwelcome spark racing up her spine. She hated how much she leaned into it.

The service passed in a blur of empty condolences and veiled questions. Old business associates shook Jax’s hand a little too firmly. Women in sleek dresses offered hugs that lasted too long, their eyes lingering on him with open interest. Elara wanted to scream at all of them. Her parents were barely in the ground and people were already circling like vultures.

After the burial, black town cars carried them to the family lawyer’s office for the will reading. The conference room felt suffocating with its dark wood paneling and heavy velvet chairs. Elara sat stiffly, Jax’s thigh pressed against hers under the long table. He didn’t move away. Neither did she.

Mr. Hargrove, the silver-haired lawyer, cleared his throat as he opened the thick folder. "The estate is… complicated. Significant debts have come to light. There are also several contested business deals tied to the ports." He paused, eyes flicking between them. "And threats. Your parents received multiple death threats in the weeks before their passing."

Elara’s stomach dropped. Jax’s hand found hers under the table, fingers threading through hers in a grip that felt both protective and possessive. His thumb stroked slow circles against her skin. The gentle motion sent heat curling low in her belly despite everything. She tried to pull away, but he held firm, his jaw tight as the lawyer continued listing assets and liabilities.

The reading dragged on, revealing layer after layer of secrets. Hidden accounts. Questionable partnerships. A rival company that had been aggressively trying to buy out Voss Tech. Elara’s head spun. Her parents had shielded her from the ugly side of their empire, painting everything in gold and sunshine. Now that illusion lay shattered on the expensive carpet.

Jax leaned closer during a break, his breath brushing her ear. "Stay close to me. Don’t trust anyone here." His voice was low, rough, sending goosebumps down her arms. When he pulled back, his gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before snapping away.

One of her father’s old partners approached them afterward, offering hollow sympathies while his eyes darted nervously. "If you need anything, anything at all…" He placed a heavy hand on Elara’s shoulder. Jax stepped between them so smoothly it looked natural, his broad frame blocking the man completely.

" We’ve got it handled," Jax said, voice edged with steel. The partner backed off quickly.

Elara’s heart raced. Jax’s protectiveness felt different now, heavier, laced with something she couldn’t quite name. Every time his hand brushed hers or his body pressed close, the air between them crackled with forbidden tension.

Later that afternoon, back in the stifling heat of another black car, Jax loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoos snaking down his forearms. Elara stared at the inked patterns, wondering what stories they hid. He caught her looking and smirked faintly, the first hint of his old cruel smile since the murder.

"Like what you see, princess?"

She turned away, cheeks burning. "Don’t call me that. Not now."

Jax chuckled darkly but didn’t push. Instead, he reached over and tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her jaw, calloused and warm. Elara’s breath caught. For a moment the world narrowed to just the two of them in the back of that car, the driver forgotten, the grief momentarily pushed aside by the dangerous pull between them.

"You’re handling this better than I expected," he said quietly. His thumb traced her cheekbone. "But you don’t have to be strong every second."

Elara closed her eyes, leaning into the touch despite herself. The comfort felt addictive. Wrong. But so desperately needed. When the car stopped at the lawyer’s office again for final papers, Jax’s hand dropped away, leaving her skin cold.

Inside the office once more, Mr. Hargrove handed them each a thick envelope with personal letters from their parents. Elara’s fingers trembled as she opened hers. The handwriting blurred through fresh tears. Her mother’s words spoke of love and strength, but also hinted at dangers she and her father had tried to shield them from.

Jax read his in silence, his expression darkening with every line. When he finished, he folded the paper carefully and slipped it into his jacket. His eyes met hers across the room, burning with secrets he clearly wasn’t ready to share.

As they left the building, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the parking lot. Jax stayed glued to her side, one arm draped casually around her shoulders in what looked like brotherly comfort to outsiders. But his fingers dug into her arm with quiet intensity, guiding her toward their waiting car.

A well-dressed woman in her forties approached them near the vehicles. Sienna, her aunt. Elegant and sharp-eyed as always. "My poor dears. Come stay with me if you need. The mansion must feel unbearable now."

Jax’s grip tightened on Elara. "We’re managing."

Sienna’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. She hugged Elara briefly, pressing something small and hard into her palm during the embrace. "Be careful who you trust," she whispered before pulling away.

Back in the car, Elara opened her fist. A small black envelope rested there. Her blood ran cold as she slid out the contents. It was a single photograph. Her, sleeping peacefully in the cheap motel bed last night, Jax’s arm wrapped around her from behind. The image was taken from outside their window.

Jax glanced over and froze. His face hardened into something deadly. "Give me that."

Elara’s hand shook as she handed it over. Someone had been watching them. Photographing them in their most vulnerable moment. The realization sent ice through her veins even as Jax’s hand found her thigh again, squeezing possessively.

Whoever killed her parents wasn’t finished with them yet.