CH.109

~Meanwhile~

The convoy of blacked-out luxury cars rolled through the cemetery gates. The procession moved with an eerie, funeral-like slowness, as if the very air was thick with grief and accusation.

Serena sat in one of the customized vehicles. She looked poised yet visibly tense in her stylish mourning attire - a black customized over-the-knee dress that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary.

To her left sat the silent, stone-faced Seven. On her right lounged Killian, sprawled with casual arrogance with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His grey eyes glinted with barely contained malice as he gazed out at the gathering crowd.

As soon as the convoy rolled to a stop, the army of bodyguards burst out of the surrounding vehicles like a well-oiled machine.

They moved with the precision and intensity of a Navy SEAL team preparing for combat, swarming the middle car in a protective formation.

Their eyes scanned the gathered crowd, searching for any potential threats.

The cemetery grounds were crawling with people.

The deceased families were all dressed in black and stood near the gravesite. But it was the other group that drew the bodyguards' attention.

A veritable horde of photographers and reporters from every tabloid and gossip rag in town were of course also there like vultures, clutching their cameras and microphones with greedy anticipation… practically salivating at the thought of capturing some salacious tidbit about the notorious Serena Bolting.

Killian was the first to exit the vehicle after making sure the mask over his face was intact.

His face immediately twisted into a scowl of disgust when the flashes from the paparazzi's cameras went off like strobe lights. If looks could kill, half the gathered press would have dropped dead on the spot from the sheer venom in Killian's glare.

Seven emerged next with a mask also secured around his face and offered his hand to help Serena from the car.

Serena took a deep, fortifying breath. She could hear the growing commotion outside, the excited murmurs of the press as they realized she was about to appear. For a moment, she considered staying in the sanctuary of the car, hiding from the onslaught she knew was coming. Yet that wasn't an option.

She had to face this, had to at least put on a show of mourning for Brittany and Jason, even if their blood was essentially on her hands. This was all for the sake of her image.

Serena placed her delicate hand in Seven's, allowing him to assist her from the vehicle.

The moment the pointed toe of her expensive heel hit the pavement, all hell broke loose.

The pack of reporters surged forward like a wave of starving hyenas who had just caught the scent of fresh meat.

Vile accusations and shouted questions bombarded Serena from every angle as microphones were thrust out like jousting lances, each paparazzo desperate to capture her response.

"Serena Bolting!" One particularly scuzzy paparazzo with greasy hair hanging in his eyes yelled above the noise. "The word on the street is you've been selling' that smoking hot body to any wrinkly old rich dude with a fat wallet! How many gross sugar daddies you got on speed dial for those late-night booty calls, huh?"

Before Serena could even process that disgusting accusation, a shrill voice from a redheaded woman wearing more garish makeup than a rodeo clown piled on cut through the cacophony. "Did you get one of your decrepit sugar daddy's hired goons to murder Alex Montgomery's little sister and her fiancé? Was the grisly double murder we all woke up to on the news this morning just you getting some twisted revenge on your ex by having your boy toys take out his family?"

Serena felt her stomach lurch, bile rising in her throat as she heard these vicious insinuations being hurled at her. Her name was once again being dragged through the mud by these vultures who didn't know the first thing about her life.

The bodyguards reacted instantly, shoving back against the surging tide of paparazzi. "Back the hell off, you bloodsucking parasites!" one of the burlier guards snarled, swatting away microphones and cameras with his arms.

"Show some goddamn respect! This is a funeral, not a circus sideshow!" another one growled.

But the accusations only grew more vile and outrageous from there, like sharks in a feeding frenzy that had gotten their first taste of blood.

"How many senior citizens you banging for cash and bling, Bolting? You got a whole little black book full of sugar daddies keeping you in furs and Rolexes, don'tcha? What's your going rate these days?" A man with a freckled face yelled.

Another voice, this one belonging to a heavyset woman with frizzy hair, chimed in with equal venom. "Which one of your gross old man's goons went on that psycho killing spree, huh? Who'd you bat those pretty lashes at to get them to viciously murder that young engaged couple in cold blood? Was it worth it, you heartless bitch?"

Serena felt like she was being dipped in a vat of slime and degradation.

How dare these subhuman vultures make such vicious, baseless accusations?

If they had even an inkling of the truth about the two figures standing with her, they'd be wetting themselves in terror rather than hurling insults.

Killian leaned in close as though he could read her mind. "Say the word, and I'll gladly rip out a few tongues. Been a while since I had a proper snack." His tone was lace with dark amusement and genuine bloodlust that made Serena’s skin crawl.

Screw their promise to keep the graveyard from becoming a blood bath! He thought Serena was still too delicate for her role as the wife and mate of the most dangerous and cold-blooded man alive.

Seven said nothing as usual. But the way he watched the unruly crowd with his cold, predatory intensity said a lot of how was coiled like a spring. He questioned his decision to let Serena attend this funeral.

Her damn manager had put her up to this and he seriously believe she needed a better team to manager her.

Seven hated to even be standing here right now. However, he was ready to neutralize any real threat with swift, brutal force if necessary.

The commotion at the cemetery entrance drew the accusatory glares of the grieving families.

Serena's stepmother Kayla and her spoiled stepsister Kylie shoved their way through the mob of reporters, their eyes blazing with a hatred so intense it was almost palpable.

"How dare you show your face here, you murderous whore!" Kayla shrieked, her heavily made-up face contorted in a mask of rage as she made a beeline straight for Serena.

"You killed my nephew and his fiancée in cold blood! I hope you burn in hell for this, you evil, soulless bitch!" she bellowed, Mascara-tinged tears streaking her cheeks.

Kylie was momentarily immobile, almost drooling at the sight of the two adonis standing beside Serena.

They were hot, my god! How she wanted one of them, or maybe even the other, for a night. To have them ravage her senseless till she lost all memory of her own name.

She quickly pushed back those thoughts, believing them to be nothing more than bodyguards who were not even up to her standard and was right on her mother's heels.

Her usual pretentious face replaced by unhinged shrieking that would put a banshee to shame. "You psycho skank! You're going to pay for this, you hear me? You're going to rot for the rest of your miserable life! My cousin and my sister-in-law are dead because of you and your vindictive, twisted games!"

The bodyguards instantly tensed, ready to neutralize the incoming threats by whatever means necessary. However, Killian stopped them with an arrogant flick of his wrist, straightening up to his full intimidating height.

He grinned at the furious women, looking utterly unthreatened and even amused by their impotent rage.

"Now, now, ladies," he drawled in an infuriatingly smug tone, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'd think very carefully about your next move. Unless, of course, you'd like to be reunited with your dearly departed loved ones sooner than you think."

His eyes glittered with malevolent glee. "Wouldn't want to have to attend two more funerals so soon, would you? Might start to look a bit suspicious, don't you think?"

The threat hung in the air like the stench of death as Killian's cold eyes bored into them.

Kayla and Kylie both visibly paled.

For a long, tense moment, the cemetery was utterly silent except for the rapid-fire clicking of cameras as the paparazzi captured every nuance of the confrontation.

Then, the two grieving women grudgingly backed away, their rage still simmering beneath the surface but tempered now by a healthy dose of fear.