Epilogue
Sean
FOUR YEARS LATER
Tearing through the early autumn midnight air, I lean forward on my bike, punching the gas, savoring the subsequent surge of adrenaline.
“Damn, you’re getting soft in your old age,” Jace’s voice chimes through my headset as he takes the lead, zipping past me, making me chuckle.
His brake lights cut through the darkening rural road.There’s just enough light to make out the colorful leaves decorating the road, flying around us like confetti.
“Thirty-eight is not old,” I grumble. “Besides, I’m only a year older than you, jackass, and I didn’t realize this was a race.”
I lay on the gas, quickly closing the gap as he quips, “C’mon, everything is a competition.”
The powerful bike rumbles between my legs, the trees on either side of the road gobbling up the sound.
Taking the last curve, we hug the tree line so closely that the red, woodsy green and golden leaves kiss my black tactical pants before the road straightens out.
We’re neck-and-neck on the straight-away and Jace’s amused chuckle echoes through my headset again as we both begin to slow.
Approaching his driveway first, we both stop, and I ask, “You seeing Lydia tonight?”
“Hell yeah.” I can’t see his face through his blacked-out helmet, but I can hear his smile as he replies, “I could really use a…release.”
It’s been a long month working to get Viktor some answers about a potential information leak, but Jace and I finally got a break-through tonight.
It took almost a full two years until this place started to feel like home.
The language barrier was only part of it.
Jace and I were constantly looking over our shoulders, waiting for someone to ambush us and drag us back to America—or worse.
When we hit the one-year mark without so much as a traffic ticket, we both started to breathe more easily.
Louhi and Viktor insisted that we were in the clear, but it wasn’t until year two that we dared to believe them.
Living in peace is far easier than living in fear, so we’ll deal with any conflict that arises when or if the time comes. That doesn’t mean any of us are reckless, though.
I snort mirthfully at Jace’s remark. A release is something I could use, too.
Especially since Louhi’s been away for a little more than two weeks completing a job in Colombia.
I’ve missed her. It’s the longest we’ve been apart in the last six months, but with the hours I’ve been logging lately, it didn’t make sense for her to turn this job down.
“I can’t decide whether or not I hope she’ll have followed the instructions I sent her earlier.” He rarely shares what he and his new friend—I really don’t know what the fuck to call the two of them—get up to. “She’s a motherfucking brat.”
“Don’t pretend as if you both don’t like that.” I chuckle.
Where I prefer to break Lou’s body, Jace prefers to break minds. That much is obvious when we get into the interrogation room. I think inflicting physical pain is simply a bonus for him.
He lifts a shoulder, but the amusement is still present as he answers, “That’s true.”
Lydia’s been around for the last year, and it only took a single smart-ass comment from her for him to become hooked. He puts the word obsessed to shame. I get it, though; fuck do I get it.
We bump fists before I pull back onto the road and travel the short distance to our house.
Soon, the black cottage tucked into the trees that belongs to me and Lou comes into view.
Parking my bike, I approach the house, the moonlight glinting off the waxy leaves of the ivy that climbs up the exterior wall.
After ascending the few steps, I pause on the wooden porch and reach into my back pocket. I glance down at the mask in my grasp that once belonged to a soldier in my command.
Jace and I have taken to wearing a similar version now that we lead Viktor’s interrogation team.
As the only two non-native Bratva soldiers on Viktor’s payroll, it took nearly two years before our coworkers came to respect us.
Through unwavering loyalty and violence, we earned it.
Turns out, our military training came in handy, even if we serve someone else now.
Working for Viktor has been idyllic, not that I’d share that with him—his ego is plenty big enough—but it’s the perfect occupation. We spend every day doing the things we love, without fear of judgment.
It helps that Viktor and the Bratva have become an extended family. But where I’d take a hundred bullets for them, I’d take a million for the woman I love.
Gulping down one last breath of the autumn air, I yank on the mouthless mask before entering the dark house.
Our home is modest, but large enough for us.
When we renovated his place, Lou and I made sure we had everything we needed, though, including a built-out basement where my darkness is safe to show itself and Lou can scream all she likes.
I pass the dark kitchen where Louhi has had many a barefoot dance party while I watch her nearly spill her wine as she tries to imitate the guttural screams of the death metal she likes so much. She’s terrible at it, but it’s still fun to hear her try.
Slipping out of my boots, I leave them in the living room and pad quietly to our bedroom. There was a chance the job she took in New York might mean she’d get home after me, but the second I saw her bike in the garage, I knew I’d hit the jackpot.
It’s not often that I get back later than her—especially with her already asleep—so I plan to take advantage of the situation. Quietly, I twist the doorknob and step into our dark bedroom.
The room is swathed in a moonlit glow, thanks to the open curtains, outlining Lou’s slumbering form. She’s a light sleeper, so I keep my steps airy as I approach the bed.
Admiring her tranquil expression, I don’t bother resisting the urge to brush the few strands of sable hair off her beautiful face.
We’ve been through so much, but spending the last few years together would have been worth enduring the rest of my life on that horrible fucking island on the other side of the world.
I’m proud of the trust we’ve built over the years. We’ve come a long way, and the hard days still happen, but they’re bearable when we face them together.
She doesn’t stir, but I’m certain she was aware of my presence the moment I parked my bike. She’s likely faking sleep at this point and waiting for me to make my move.
I smirk behind my mask and yank the covers back. Her eyes fly open and meet mine, an inferno of want ablaze in her amber gaze as she peers up at me through dark lashes. A tiny smirk twitches her lips. She’s trying and failing to fight the full expression. She loves this as much as I do.
I’ve only donned the mask a handful of times over the years, but she goes fucking feral for it every time I do, which means I should be reaching for it more often. But I prefer her to look into the face of the man devouring her, owning her, worshiping her, loving her.
I’m on top of her in an instant, my hand locking her delicate wrists above her head.
My free hand cups her bare sex, and when she releases a needy whimper, I tighten my hold.
Abandoning her cunt, I snatch the corded headphones sitting on her nightstand, wrapping them around her wrists and tying her to the rungs of the iron headboard.
There’s no fucking way these headphones will be operational after tonight, but I’ll replace them.
She squirms, cursing, but now that I’ve got her at my mercy, I grip the collar of my worn t-shirt she’s wearing and rip it right down the middle. Her face scrunches as she pouts.
When she parts her lips to spit my favorite kind of venom, I place a hand over the bottom half of her face. “You’ll only open your mouth to accept my cock tonight, understand?”
I wait until she nods, albeit reluctantly, before removing my hand.
Moving between her legs, I lick the grooves of the incredibly erotic scar I left there years ago, tracing each of my initials with my tongue.
As she arches into me, I reach up and press my palm to her heart and murmur against her skin in Finnish, “Minun.”
Mine.