Chapter One

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----I know you guys hate super long authors notes but there is one at the bottom of this chapter with some actual important things to know coming into this book concerning POV's and update schedules as well as getting in touch with me!----

Kate  

       The skies were dark, blanketed with a thick layer of clouds. It was fitting for such a day to be dreary and sad. It was fitting for a funeral. Not one of the suited men outside raised an umbrella as they stood in salute.

I was surprised at how many people were there honestly. I probably shouldn't have been, but I was. I hadn't realized what a family this truly was. He had a family. And family was everything.

"Are you okay?" Stacey whispered to me.

No. No I was not.

I didn't answer, just watched as a priest took the stage in front of the casket. Stacey turned towards Pietro who wrapped his arms around her. I had no one to hold me.

The priest began droning on. A generic spiel about how he was a kind and generous man, brave with many friends and a family who loved him. He led us in prayer, the ceremony felt surreal.

I wasn't crying, I wasn't ready to break down. I was furious.

The priest spoke for maybe twenty some minutes and then a few others took the stage. I looked behind me to where row after row after row of police men stood.

Uncle Sammy stood in the very center and every other officer on the force, including a very blonde Nash, stood behind him. He should be up here too. He was his brother after all. Maybe not in blood, but in heart.

I turned back to the priest and finally, just as he was getting ready to bring the ceremony to a close I changed my mind. I had been firm on the notion that I did not want to speak. I took a few steps forward and without my even asking he smiled gently. "Mr. Santoro's daughter would now like to say a few words on her father's behalf."

I took the stage and looked out. Nash gave me a gentle nod and Sammy didn't budge an inch. "I know you've all heard the ceremony, the one that says what a brave and unique individual my father was. It sounds almost generic, but in this case it was true. My dad loved being a cop, he loved nothing more. I begged him from the bottom of my heart to please take a desk job not even a year ago as he insisted on looking at me through the hole in his arms from a gunshot wound. I love all of you guys and I am so glad to have the support of the whole NYPD holding me up right now, but my nose would grow at least two feet if I said that right now, in this very moment, I was glad he was in the force. I'm angry. Honestly. He should be here. He should be here to walk me down the aisle when I get married, should be here to pull coins out from behind his grandson's ear when I have kids, I should have a father still. And I don't, and I am hurt by this." I looked down for a few moments. "It was a stupid mistake. I mean, even I know not to go into open fire without back up. Without the area secured. I don't, I don't know what he was thinking."

It was a lie. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking of the woman and two children inside who were held hostage at gun point by the crazy and high ex-boyfriend. When he'd heard gun fire he'd gone in. He'd killed the ex-boyfriend but as it turned out he wasn't alone. Dad had managed to take out two of the criminals but one had gotten away. Regardless, he had saved the family. He wouldn't have wanted to go out any other way.

So I said just that. "He went out the way he would have wanted to. Nothing else would have made him more proud. He lived his life for everyone but himself. And for that, I will be angry, and I will be hurt, but I will always, and I do mean always, be proud. Rest in paradise." I stepped off the podium quickly and walked away from the grave completely.

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