Chapter 295: Questions from the Past
Max hadn’t planned to stay at the funeral for long. He’d come for one reason, to say his goodbyes to Abby, and he’d done that.
Still, leaving right away didn’t feel right. Walking in, bowing his head, and then disappearing would make his presence seem hollow, like a formality instead of something real. So he decided to wait, to stay until everyone had finished their prayers.
One by one, the line of mourners approached the front, offering incense and silent words to the girl whose smile still lingered in the photographs. Abby’s father remained there the whole time, bowing slightly to each visitor, his expression calm but unreadable.
When the last stick of incense had been placed, Abby’s father finally stepped away from the photo. His voice was quiet but carried in the hush of the hall as he thanked everyone for coming.
Soon, the next part of the tradition would begin. Food would arrive, tables of it, offered as part of the memorial. People would sit together, share a meal, and talk in low voices.
But Max had no intention of staying for that. Sharing food here felt... wrong for him. He wasn’t family, and even if he had been, eating in this room so soon after saying goodbye wasn’t something he wanted to do.
He drifted toward the side of the hall, weaving between small clusters of people. That was when he saw Warma making his way over.
Cindy walked a step behind her father, arms crossed, her expression distant. She didn’t even glance at Max, and honestly, he preferred it that way. Talking to Warma was easier, less tension, less bite.
"Abby was a nice person," Warma said first, his voice low and measured. "She came by our house a few times. Cindy would always talk about her afterwards. I’m sure this is hard on all of you."
Max said nothing at first. Words felt heavy and clumsy right now, and anything he could say in response seemed either too much or not enough.
Instead, he looked at Warma and asked, "Was there a reason you came up to me? Feels like you almost wanted to ask me something."
Warma’s gaze shifted, scanning the space around them. When he saw no one close enough to overhear, he spoke again.
"I heard you were in the hospital," he said. "Aron told me. But you seem fine now, better than I expected, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounded."
Max gave a faint shrug, neither confirming nor denying.
"But when I heard that Abby was missing," Warma continued, "and then I found out you were in the hospital... I thought maybe the two things were connected."
There was no accusation in his tone, just concern. Warma had always been like that, even in business dealings. Even when handling money, he carried himself with a kind of cautious integrity.
"Max," Warma said after a pause, "I can’t lie to you. I’m worried about Cindy. I don’t want to be in the same situation Abby’s father is in." His eyes hardened, but his voice stayed calm. "I don’t care how much you’re paying me. I’d give you back every single penny if it meant my daughter was safe. She’s not going to get involved in anything dangerous, right? She’s not going to end up in trouble?"
The question hung in the air between them.
Max didn’t answer right away. He considered the truth. What Warma was involved in had nothing to do with the gangs or the street conflicts. His connection to Max was through the Stern family’s finances, not the Bloodline or any of its dealings. Even if someone knew Warma managed his money, there was no reason for him to become a target.
Abby’s tragedy had been different. She had been drawn in because she was close to Max, not because of money, not because of business.
And that was a weight Max carried whether he admitted it out loud or not.
So even if Warma walked away from his work with Max tomorrow, it wouldn’t change the truth. Abby’s death hadn’t come from his business ties. She’d been far removed from the Stern finances, the Bloodline, and the rest of it, and yet here they were, standing in this hall without her.
"It’s nothing to do with what you handle for me," Max said after a pause. "It’s because she got close to me. That’s all it took."
Warma’s brow tightened, but Max went on.
"I won’t get close to Cindy. She’ll stay out of it. She’ll stay safe. And when I graduate this year, I’ll leave her completely alone."
For a moment, Warma just looked at him, measuring his words. Then he stepped forward and set both hands on Max’s shoulders, his grip firm.
"I’ll trust you, for now," he said slowly. "But I’m on thin ice with this, Max. I knew Abby. I saw her, I spoke to her... and I know this is hard for you. But just, "
He didn’t finish. Instead, he gave Max’s shoulder a light tap and glanced away, letting the unfinished warning hang between them. He didn’t need to say it aloud. Cindy had already made her own thoughts clear. People had died around Max before, more than a few, and even if they weren’t family, anyone who cared about someone would think twice before letting them stay near him.
Max knew it too well.
Maybe, he thought, when all of this is done, I shouldn’t wait for graduation at all. Maybe I should just leave.
Two priorities burned at the front of his mind: building the Bloodline Group to its full strength, and dealing with the White Tiger Gang. Both would mean moving to another city, leaving Brinehurst entirely.
And then there was the business front. He’d have to keep up something legitimate, if only to keep Dennis and the rest of the Stern family from breathing down his neck.
At the front of the hall, Abby’s father rose to his feet. The incense had burned low, leaving only thin curls of smoke drifting toward the ceiling. The service was ending. People began to speak in low voices, breaking into smaller groups to exchange a few quiet words before the food arrived.
For Max, it was the cue he’d been waiting for.
He glanced at his phone, two hours until the meeting.
His eyes shifted toward the corner, where Joe was waiting. Joe gave him a small nod, already starting to move toward him.
But before he could get far, a man stepped directly into Max’s path.
He was older, with a sharp, bright smile that seemed too friendly for the weight of the room.
"I don’t believe the two of us have ever talked," the man said.
Max’s chest tightened. There was something about him, a presence he couldn’t ignore.
"Yes," the man went on, his gaze flicking over the red in Max’s hair and the black jacket on his shoulders. "I would have remembered someone as flashy as you. It’s a sad thing, what happened here. And it seems you were close to the girl. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"
With that, he reached into his jacket and flashed a badge.
"Detective Marvin."
Max froze.
Right... I know this man... from my past life.