Page 120 of Lash

She shrugs. "I will adjust. As long as you are here, I don't care. Truly."

I stand up and scoop her into my arms. "We are going to turn in."

"Great to meet you, Tat!" Terra calls, and the sentiment is echoed by everyone else.

I glance at her as I carry her to my—our—room. "Tat?" I question.

She grins. "Scarlett's name for me. I guess I am Tati to you and Tat to the women."

The room is small and I have almost no personal possessions—everything was burned in the fire, and I didn't bother accumulating things after that.

"I would welcome it if you put your touch on this room," I tell her. "I know nothing of such things.”

She grins, looking around. "I can tell. Trust me, my love, I'll have it fixed up in no time." She shoves me backward onto the bed. "But that's not my concern at the moment.”

"Oh no?" I ask, shimmying backward on the bed.

"Oh no."

She shows me what her concern is—several times. We fall asleep together, her head on my chest, sated and exhausted and travel-weary.

Before I fall asleep, I find myself almost wanting to thank Rafael for having my flight hijacked.

It led me to Tatiana, and Tatiana set me free, helped me lay to rest the ghosts that have haunted me for so long.

Yes, I am grateful.

Tatiana snuffles softly in her sleep, rolls to snuggle more fully on top of me, and her quiet breaths lull me to a deep, restful sleep.

epilogue: the energy of hate

Inez

Everything hurts, but I welcome the pain. It centers me, focuses me, motivates me. Fuels my fury and energizes my hate.

I have the windows down, letting the wind buffet me as I haul ass toward Texas. No music, no podcast or audiobook to pass the time, just me and my thoughts, stewing in my rage.

Rafael Sousa.

Flashes of what I endured at his hands sear through my mind. Beatings. Being shocked by car batteries attached to jumper cables, the alligator jaws clamped on sensitive skin. Sleep deprivation. Starvation. Sound assault—a hideously obnoxious old-timey commercial jingle for a long-defunct baking soda played on repeat at a deafening volume for hours upon hours.

I told the men the truth—Rafael never raped me, nor did his men. But they did…other things.

I can't go there. My fury is already boiling over, and if I dwell on that, I'm liable to go into a blind, murderous rage. Innocent people will get hurt—I know myself well enough to know that I am in a very, very dangerous mood.

My phone rings, so I roll up the windows and answer the call—the infotainment system of the G-Wagen automatically routes the call to the car’s audio system and microphones.

"Inez." The voice is deep, smooth, cultured and refined, authoritative.

"Still fine," I snap. "I don't need you checking in on me every hour…sir."

"And yet, here we are."

I sigh. "Indeed, sir. Here we are."

"You should not be alone right now, Inez." The voice is almost affectionate.

"I am past any danger from a concussion. I had one, but it wasn't too bad. I'm well enough now, sir."