Page 101 of Lash

A door on the left is closed—Rev stands beside it, and Chance kicks it open. A bathroom, empty. Another door leads to a wine cellar—a brick barrel vault ceiling with built-in wooden racks containing hundreds of bottles of wine. Solomon grabs one and appraises it with a critical eye. "Expensive."

Saxon snorts, rolling his eyes. "You think a man who spends thousands of dollars a year just in rubber bands for his cash is gonna have cheap-ass fuckin' wine? C'mon, bro."

"Shut the fuck up, ass-wipe," Solomon says without looking at his brother. "We're missing something."

We search the basement again, but there are no other doors. Scarlett and I do another search of the main floor again, this one more thorough, but it turns up nothing except expensive taste.

"There is something happening in the forest," Tatiana says across the comms. "It sounds like a helicopter."

"From theforest?" Sol asks.

"Yes, from the forest. To the behind of the house."

"I found a secret door," Silas says over comms. "In the wine cellar."

There's a lot of shouting from the basement, none of it over comms—Scarlett and I run downstairs, caroming off walls in our haste.

We stumble into the wine cellar, where a section of the brick wall pivots away to reveal a small chamber lit by a single naked bulb.

Suspended by chains from the ceiling is Inez.

Her face is a bloody mess, she's naked, bruised, and limp. Her toes brush the concrete floor as she sways and twists slightly.

We're all huddled just inside the chamber, silent.

Rev is the first to move toward her, his hand shaking as he presses his index and middle fingers to her pulse point at her throat.

One eye snaps open, blazing black, and she levers upright, bare, bloody legs wrapping around Rev's throat—the move is faster than a cobra's strike.

"It's—me—" Rev gurgles, patting her thigh. "Inez—Inez! It's me."

Her swollen eye blinks, seems to clear, and then she abruptly releases him. "Took you long enough." Her voice is a hoarse, gurgling, lisping rasp.

rescued

Tatiana

Islowly scan the estate in a crisscrossing pattern, watching for movement. So far, nothing. My stomach is in knots as I try to not think about how many people I've killed so far.

No time to think about that. Focus.

The sound of the helicopter has been steady for a minute or two, and I still can't identify where it is, the sound dopplering off the ravine walls and muffled by the forest.

I'm not in a great position, lying prone in the brush at the tree line, looking into the courtyard outside the front door at an oblique angle. I can see most of the courtyard, all of one side of the house, and all of the bridge. Nothing moves.

A sound reaches my ears, faint, beneath the chopping of the helicopter—a rustle. A whisper.

Shit.

I lay the rifle down and get out my pistol—Tata taught me to always check a gun before I try to use it, so, as quietly as I can, I check the magazine, ease it back in, click it in place as gently as possible, and then thumb back the hammer. Roll to my back, aiming down my body.

I key my mic. "There is someone in the woods near me," I whisper into the mic.

"Say again?" I hear Solomon say—it sounds so loud in my ear, now that I have to be quiet.

"Enemy," I hiss. "Nearby."

"Nico is coming. Do what you gotta do. Don’t hesitate."