Echoes and Ashes

The burial was nothing short of regal.

Set beneath the towering oaks of an ancient family estate Gina hadn't visited in years, Dave Michaels was laid to rest under soft gray skies, the air heavy with unshed tears. Dignitaries, artists, underground titans, and silent watchers gathered in tailored black. A full orchestra played a haunting rendition of the ballad Dave once wrote for Gina—the same one he sang that rainy night years ago when love bloomed amid chaos.

Gina stood motionless, a black veil shielding her swollen eyes, one hand cradling the growing life within her. Davina, ever composed, stood beside her, flanked by Houana and a visibly aged Father Michaels. Beside the fresh mound of earth, a single red rose lay—her final goodbye.

Just as the last shovelful of soil was laid, a hush swept through the crowd. A woman in a navy coat and dark sunglasses stepped forward.

"Dave's sister," someone whispered.

Elena Michaels.

Her eyes met Gina's. No words were exchanged, only the quiet understanding of shared loss. She reached out to Davina, who stepped forward with surprising warmth. Blood called to blood.

---

Across the city, Richard Lansing gripped a glass of whiskey with trembling fingers. His son had become collateral damage in a war he never understood. He hadn't even known Dave was Gina's partner until the news broke.

He stared at the framed photo of Marianne on his desk—the one he had always kept to remind him why he'd chosen power over peace. Now, that face only taunted him.

He smashed the glass.

"Elara will pay," he muttered.

But Elara was already unraveling.

In her remote safehouse, doubts began to corrode her resolve. The backlash from Dave's death had been far worse than she anticipated. The underworld whispered Gina's name again—not as a survivor, but as a reckoning.

Before she could act, Nuel's trap snapped shut.

Posing as an ally in retreat, he fed her misinformation through a well-placed source. And when she stepped into her backup facility for extraction, Houana was already there—standing tall with her cane, eyes like ice.

"I've been waiting," Houana said.

Before Elara could scream, the tranq dart struck her neck.

---

Gina didn't flinch when the news came in.

"She's in our custody," Houana confirmed.

Gina's voice was flat. "We move at dawn."

Davina stood behind her, silent and solid. Elena watched from the corner, still processing the weight of her return. The child inside Gina shifted again, steady and strong.

"How do we proceed without him?" Elena finally asked.

Gina's jaw tightened. "The same way he would've. With strategy. With heart. With fury."

And later that night, as sleep gently overtook her, Gina dreamt.

Of Dave.

He stood under the moonlight, shirt half-unbuttoned, arms wide open.

"You came," she whispered.

"I never left," he replied.

Their kiss was deep, desperate. Clothes vanished. Fingers gripped. Moans echoed. They danced one last time in that liminal space where dreams meet memory. Where love defies death.

And as he made love to her one final time, she whispered, "I'll finish this for us."

He smiled, fading like mist.

"You always were the strong one."