DEADLY DECEPTION

CHAPTER 45

Avery's POV

The sun was too bright.

The wind was gentle, brushing against my skin, but it didn't bring comfort. It carried the scent of freshly dug earth, the weight of unspoken grief.

I hated that it wasn't raining.

Maria's funeral had been different. Dark skies. Thunder rolling like a cruel reminder that she was gone. That I was alone.

Now—six months later—I stood in the middle of another graveyard, my body wrapped in black, my heart wrapped in something heavier.

A lot had changed since then.

I had changed.

I became someone new. Found a family in places I never expected.

I fell in love.

Had my first kiss.

Survived things I never should have.

But one thing never changed.

Maria.

The love I had for her.

Even when I found out the truth—even when I knew she had killed my parents—I couldn't hate her.

Because she had saved me.

She ran with me when I was just a baby. Gave me a new life. A new name. A future that didn't have to be soaked in blood.

I clenched my jaw. Swallowed the grief.

A heavy exhale sounded beside me. A hand wrapped around my waist, fingers pressing gently against my hip.

Rick.

I turned my head slightly, looking up at him.

His face was unreadable, but his eyes—fuck.

Red-rimmed. Dark. Haunted.

His right hand lifted slightly, pressing against his left rib, where a bandage covered the bullet wound. His touch was slow, absent-minded—like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

His gaze never left the casket.

Neither did Bryce's.

Bryce, who had been tearing up nonstop since morning, stood there with a busted lip, bruises painting his skin and hands shaking.

His pain sat heavy in the air.

George stood beside him, holding his arm, patting his hand, his own eyes red and tired.

Then my eyes slowly moved to Fred.

Broken.

Just as fucked up as Bryce.

His left arm strapped in a sling, a crutch supporting his weight, his face covered in bruises and bandages. He kept looking at Bryce, kept wiping his own tears away like it would stop them from falling.

I breathed in deeply, forcing myself to look down.

At the casket.

At Thomas.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

And I let it.

The priest's voice faded into the wind, reciting the final prayers. The weight of the moment pressed down on my chest, suffocating.

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into my palms.

The men standing near the casket moved to close it.