Page 104 of Lash

I nod. "Yes. Nico and I are together."

Her eyes widen. "Nico?"

The man himself leans over the back of the bench, reaching down to grab one of Inez's hands. "I have told them everything. Lash is no more. I am now Nicolae—Nico."

Her eyes flick to his hand on hers, narrowing for a moment as if in warning, and then she lets out a breath with closed eyes andputs her other hand on top of his, squeezing. "Nico. That's good." She looks at me again. "And who are you?"

"Tatiana Juric," I answer.

"Juric…"

"Stjepan Juric was my father." My voice cracks.

"Was?" She looks at Nico.

He nods. "Mercado captured him and tortured him to death for letting Solomon, Scarlett, and Lorenzo escape. For letting me spring them free." He glances at me, then back at her. "And also because he wanted Tatiana for himself, which I also prevented."

“Tell me everything that has happened," she commands, the snap of authority clear in her voice despite the quietness of her tone.

Rev is driving again, pulling around the courtyard. Inez glances through the window at the house—which is remarkably beautiful, I must admit.

"Wait," Inez orders. "The house. Burn it down."

Rev brakes to a halt and Kane and Saxon hop out with a grenade in each hand. They disappear into the house for a few minutes and then emerge at a run.

"Go, go, go!” Kane barks. "'Bout to be a big-ass bada-boom."

Rev guns the engine and the back end fishtails on the wet blacktop, stutters, and catches, and then we rocket forward. I watch through the back window, waiting for the explosion.

There isn't one explosion, though. There are several in a row—four smaller ones in rapid succession:boom-boom-boom-boomin the wings and center of the structure. These smaller explosions shatter windows and blow out walls. The last explosion, however, is a different beast entirely. This one rattles the windows of the van, and the shockwave makes the bridge sway precariously and the back end of the van leaps skyward as we cross it. The center of the house bellies outward and the roofpops off in a shower of red tiles; fire billows hungrily from the windows, licking and spreading eagerly.

"Shoulda blown up his other house," Saxon grumbles. "Motherfucker."

Inez grunts in pain as she grabs the bench back and hauls herself upright to watch the house burn as we drive away from it. Once it's out of sight, she slumps back down against Chance's chest.

She sighs in exhaustion. "Nothing personal, Chance, but I wish you were Lorenzo."

"I know, Boss Lady."

"Now," she says. "Tell me what's happened since I let Rafael take me."

Solomon, Scarlett, and Nico take turns relating the events from Zagreb until we arrived in South America, and then Silas, by some unspoken agreement with the others, relates their side of things—getting the call to assemble everyone and get down to Brazil ASAP, meeting up with us, and everything up to now.

Once she's caught up, Inez spends a few minutes in silence, thinking. After a while, she lifts up awkwardly to look at Nico over the back of the bench. "You gave up going after Pugli to come after me?"

He sighs, nodding and shrugging. "That is correct, to a degree. It was not solely for you, however. Tatiana helped me see that my thirst for vengeance was hobbling me. I let it go so I would have space in my soul to love her. Hatred and vengeance were consuming me. But also, yes, I came for you. I felt my loyalty to you was more important than revenge, and I could not do both."

Inez peers at me through heavy-lidded eyes. "You are a miracle worker, Tatiana Juric. You brought a dead man back to life."

I can only shrug. "I…I suppose I saw beneath the shell that was Lash to the Nicolae within. And selfishly, I wanted Nicolae for myself, not Lash. I love him. It is strange and unsettling to feel such powerful love so swiftly, but I cannot deny what I feel."

“We are all beneficiaries of the courage of your love," she says to me. "I am sorry for the loss of your father. But now you are one of us. You belong with us."

I frown. "Must I be branded as well?"

Inez sniffs a quiet laugh. "No, that will not be necessary. Unless you wish to—but it is not something anyone can be compelled to do. You must truly desire it for yourself.”

I can't help the sigh of relief. "I do not mind swearing an oath—and I would gladly swear an oath to never kill anyone again. I have had my fill of that. But I do not much care much for the idea of being branded or tattooed."