Even Tatiana doesn't seem to know what to do or say. She dares not even get too close. None of us does.
"What am I meant to feel?" Nicolae asks, holding the knife flat on both cupped palms, as if he's about to offer it up to someone in a ritual. "Should I be angry that my vengeance has been stolen? Relieved that he is dead? His throat was cut last, you know. The blood—his testicles were removed first. They left his eyeballs so he could watch them do it. Then they cut his eyes out. Andthenthey gave him the…what is it called?"
"A Columbian Necktie," Sophia supplies.
"Yes, yes," Nicolae murmurs. "Columbian Necktie." A long pause. "He is truly dead."
"Feels a little…anticlimactic, to be honest," Solomon says. "All that, hunted and chased all over the fuckin' world? Gunfights, sleepless nights, fuckin'…all the hell we went through because of that fucking man. And we get a goddamnenvelopewith some goddamnpictures?”
Nicolae nods. "I agree. It is…" he curses in three languages. "It is damnably anticlimactic."
"I am glad." This comes, unexpectedly, from Naomi, in a firm, confident voice.
Everyone stares at her. Nicolae turns his gaze onto her very, very slowly. "Please explain, Naomi."
Tall, quiet, willowy Naomi, who has been through so much pain, kneels in front of Nicolae, covers the knife and his hands with hers. "You would never have known peace if you had been the one to kill him."
Nicolae's head jerks up at this. "I disagree most intensely. It is what I have lived for."
“Exactly.” A pause. “You have tried to move on, Nico," Naomi says in her soft, sweet voice. "You have tried to let go. To frame it as justice and not revenge."
Nico nods. "I…yes. You are right, in this. I have."
"But you haven’t been able to, have you?"
"How could I, when the monster still roamed this earth? What peace could I know when the man who murdered my wife and infant children was still free and alive?" His voice cracks, breaks. "Tati…Tati?"
Tatiana falls to her knees in front of him—Naomi slides aside to make room. "I'm here, love."
"I thought—I thought I had let go."
She cups his face and kisses his cheeks and his mouth and his eyes. "I know. I know."
"But I couldn't," he whispers. "The hate. The hate…"
Tatiana's thumbs sweep under his eyes. "Do you think I did not feel it in you, my love? Do you think I did not know when you woke up from a nightmare? Do you think I did not know what the dreams were of? Iloveyou, Nicolae. I love you despite the hate you bore for him. But I feel as Naomi does. I am glad you were not the one to murder that man. Now you are truly free. His blood is not on your hands. It is not on your conscience. This is…I know you may not see it yet, but this is the best thing that could have happened."
He just nods slowly—acknowledgment rather than agreement, I believe. For a long, silent beat, he stares at the knife on his upturned palms. Then, by infinitesimal degrees, he tilts his hands away, down; the knife rolls, rolls, and clatters to the ground at his feet. His head hangs. His shoulders shake. Tatiana frames his face and kisses his forehead. Scoots away, glances around at the men, his brothers. Her meaning is clear: go to him.
They surround him, a brawny ring of arms wrapping around him, clinging to him as he breaks.
When he has recovered, scrubbing his face, he pushes free of the group of men and picks up the photograph of Pugli dead on the autopsy table. He stares at it for a long time. His fingers slip under his sleeve and touch his tattooed brand. "Once you're in, there's no going back," he whispers. "Loyalty to the brotherhood above all." A razor-sharp pause; his voice hardens. "Never take a life." The change in order changes everything, coming from him.
He straightens, staring at the photograph. Draws a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out slowly, eyes closed. When he opens them again, his gaze is clear and strong. He gathers the photographs and the letter, stuffs them all back into the envelope, and hands it to me. "The case is officially closed."
I accept the envelope, finding it hard to wrap my head around the news. "Yes, so it is. The world is a better place, now that he is gone from it."
Nicolae nods. "Yes, so it is," he says, echoing my words. "I think…I think I must rest."
Tatiana is at his side in an instant, tucking herself against him, propping him up, whispering to him in Croatian. He replies in kind, sounding weary and worn…but free.
"We must all rest. It has been a long fight for everyone." I look around the group. "I am proud of each and every one of you. Of us. Of how we have grown—as individuals and as a group." I clear my throat, again feeling emotional. "It feels disingenuous to include myself in that statement.Yougrew—Ihid. You have each taught me courage. Resilience. Strength—mental, emotional strength. When—" I clear my tight hot throat again, in vain. "When I created the idea of this experiment, this group, I did so thinking that in helping each of you overcome your pasts, I would…I would find redemption and rehabilitation for myself. By proxy, I suppose. But I have discovered that it doesn't work that way. You had to find it for yourselves. Not find—take. Make. Create. Andyoudid. Now I must follow your example. So I must thank you." I look at each face in turn—Rev, Kane, Chance, Silas, Saxon, Solomon, Lash, who is now called Nicolae, Lorenzo, Myka, Anjalee, Annika, Naomi, Terra, Scarlett, who is now called Maria, Tatiana, and Inez, who is now called Sophia; and last, Brys. "You've each shown me the way forward. We are no longer slaves to our pasts. We have no more enemies. No reason to hide. You are free from your oaths to me. Not to each other, but to me, to this place, this life. What comes next is up to you. But first, if you would indulge me one more time.”
I step forward and hold out my hand to Brys.
She takes it without hesitation.
"Follow me, please, everyone."
