Just My Luck

Chapter 19

It's been three days since Isaac passed. We made it back to London without a hitch, as everything was now over. We knew that we may have won the battle, but that the war was far from over; Grayson was very much planning on retaliating against the Black Diamonds for the loss they have caused him.

We had Isaac's funeral today. It was a small thing, with just the four of us. We buried him at the base's cemetery, so that he would always feel like he was with us.

Damien, Lucas, and I stood in the kitchen, staring numbly at the seat where Isaac would be sitting.

It still feels odd to not have him here. It's like I'd blink and he'd be there. I could almost picture it, him with his handsome smile and crinkling eyes.

In such a short amount of time, he had become a constant in my life; our souls had bonded, making this a heavy loss for me as well.

Grayson entered the kitchen and slammed a bottle onto the counter.

We all jumped, eyes meeting his.

He looked as though he hadn't showered in a few days. Once we first got home, we had to force him to shower to wash off all the blood, but after that, he locked himself in his room and didn't talk to anyone. The funeral today was the first time we've seen him since.

He wordlessly poured the four of us a glass of Scotch, sliding them across the counter to us.

"For Isaac," he murmured.

He downed one full glass, poured himself another, and motioned for me to join him at the island.

The others raised their glasses and swallowed the burning liquid before going back to ignoring the two of us.

I nervously made my way over to him, hesitantly taking the outstretched cup and forcing it down.

"For Isaac," I repeated quietly.

In his other hand, he gripped two photos tightly.

"What's that?" I smiled sadly, unsure how to approach the situation. It felt much like how you would approach a rabid dog. They could snap at any minute, just like Grayson.

He looked down with watery eyes, as if just now noticing that he clutched something in his grasp.

"Photos," he sniffled, chugging back another swig of liquor before silently handing them to me.

I fought back the urge to cry again when I was met with a photo of Grayson and Isaac.

They were both smiling, arms wrapped around each other. Grayson looked about 18, Isaac in his very early twenties.

They looked innocent, like they could take on the world. They appeared like the epitome of brotherhood.

I flipped the photo over to see an inscription:

"Remember me like this.

- Isaac"

"I found that in my suitcase," he whispered morosely, noticing my find. "I think he knew that he wouldn't make it out of there alive."

He stared into his mug, choking back his tears.

"He's right, you know," I muttered, handing him the photo. "You should remember him like this. He cared for you very much, Grayson."

He swallowed hard. "I know. That's what makes this so hard."

"What's this photo?" I changed the subject, careful not to push too far. "Are these your parents?"