Page 137 of Jagger's Remorse

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Later, in our room, I help her change her bandages.

"Your father," she says quietly. "Pablo killed him?"

"Seems like."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Least now I know." I tape the gauze in place. "He's gone. Pablo's gone. Mouse is gone. That's what matters."

"Two rats," she muses. "Tina and Mouse. How did we miss it?"

"Because we trusted them. Because they were family." I meet her eyes. "That's not a weakness. That's what makes us human."

She touches my face. "We could find out more about your father. When I take over?—"

"When you take over, we look forward, not back." I catch her hand. "The dead are dead. It's the living that matter."

"Speaking of living..." She shifts, straddles my lap carefully. "We should probably make the most of tonight. In case tomorrow goes badly."

"Scarlett, you're injured?—"

"So are you." She kisses my throat. "Seems like a good excuse to be gentle for once."

And she is. Slow and careful and nothing like us at all.

"I love you," she says after. "In case I don't get another chance to say it."

"You'll have a million chances."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

But as I hold her while she sleeps, I can't shake the feeling that tomorrow changes everything.

One way or another, our war with Eduardo ends.

Either with Scarlett crowned or buried.

Either way, blood will spill.

The only question is whose.

CHAPTER TEN

Scarlett

Eduardo's compound in Mexicali sprawls like a fortress against the desert, all white walls and armed guards.

The last time I was here, I was twenty and still believed in justice through law books.

Still thought I could honor my father's memory by becoming the lawyer he'd dreamed I'd be.

Now I'm twenty-five, covered in scars, and arriving with my uncle's blood still under my fingernails.

"Nervous?" Jagger asks as our convoy approaches the gates.

His hand finds mine across the console, thumb brushing over my knuckles.

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