Chapter 17
Louhi
The corridor twists and turns, and it’s beginning to seem like I’m in the belly of a tightly coiled snake. When muffled voices float to me on a gifted wind, I pause at the corner, hugging the wall, my finger hovering over the metal trigger of the rifle.
Only when I discern that the sound is growing louder, I reach down and pull out my tactical knife.
A half-second before they round the corner, I let the knife fly from my fingertips, and it embeds itself in one man’s neck.
Raising the butt of my rifle at the same time, I slam it into the face of the other man, and he staggers back.
I stand over him and pull the knife from the other guard’s head before I slice it across the throat of the disoriented soldier.
Wiping the blood from the blade, I tuck it back into its sheath. Then I’m stepping over the dead men and continuing on my path of militancy with a grin on my face.
My heart beats a war drum as I march down the concrete halls.
I manage to kill two more soldiers before I encounter another four and announce my presence through gunfire.
It was inevitable, and I just have to hope that the diversion that Viktor caused drew enough of the soldiers from the prison.
I fire four rounds, the bullets finding their marks with expert precision as I keep moving forward.
Honestly, I’m a little curious as to why the entire place hasn’t gone into lockdown mode yet. Perhaps I haven’t caused enough of a splash.
“Blow up the boat,” I instruct into the comms unit.
“Copy,” Viktor replies. “Boat is destroyed.”
It’d sure be helpful if Viktor had eyes on the damn dinghy. This is a part of the plan that we had to leave to chance, but it’s still not the riskiest aspect. That’ll come later.
Striding past the dead men, I wind my way through the maze of corridors that remind me of one of the video games my brother played in the 90s.
Eventually—and a few spent rounds later—the concrete beast spits me out into more familiar territory.
I smirk as I pass the washroom and the entrance to a space I’m well acquainted with.
But then the hinges on the heavy metal door creak open, sounding like an old screen door on a dilapidated porch.
A masked man emerges from the playpen, immediately meeting my gaze. My body flashes cold, the snake within me writing as if desperate to be freed. Without hesitation, I grant her what she wants, firing two rounds into his stomach.
I step up to him with a lethal smile, my eyes flicking to the gut shot that he’s clutching. “Be a dear and point me in the direction of Digs.”
“Get fucked, bitch,” he groans into his olive-green mesh mask. Well, that’s not nice.
“Did plenty of that last time I was here, Pomeranian.”
“What?” he snaps with a groan while reaching for the knife at his thigh as if I wouldn’t notice.
“My apologies, I thought we were naming types of dogs.”
Bored with the conversation, I fire again, the bullet in his brain halting his movements forever.
“Please tell me that’s how you talk to all of your targets,” Viktor speaks into my ear, his amusement evident in his lighthearted tone.
“Oops,” I giggle. “I forgot you were there.”
He snorts. “Clearly.”
I shrug, although he can’t see the gesture. I avoid the growing crimson pool as I move around the man. Following my gut, I allow my instincts to guide me, and I practically jog to the mouth of the cell block where I was kept.
Two steps into the cell block, I find a stark-naked Kazi leaning against the back wall of the first cell. His eyes are closed, but I’m certain he senses my presence.
“I’ll free you,” I whisper. But Sean comes first. Kazi doesn’t react.
As I take in the sight of a blessedly silent Carlos, I snort and my lips curl. He snarls back. I respond by winking and gesturing at him with my middle finger in the air.
When I reach the next to last cell, I find a man curled on his side, his back to me. Deep, long gashes adorn various parts of his otherwise dark, flawless skin, oozing a bright shade of vermillion. The wounds appear fresh.
“Change of plans,” I murmur to Viktor and Sasha. “We’re freeing three rather than two.”
“You have too many pets, Louhi,” Viktor admonishes, but there’s no bite. Plus, I’d like to see him try to tell me no.
In Finnish mythology, Louhi, goddess of death and the queen of witches, collects animals as though they’re coins and keeps them as pets. I’m unsurprised that Viktor made that reference, considering he appreciates folklore as much as I do.
My face falls the moment I step before the eighth cell. Horror, rancor, and undiluted rage beat at the enclosure within my chest. My stomach clenches, and I swallow down the bile climbing up my esophagus.
I shake myself from the shock of seeing the small, wooden box in the middle of the cell. I aim my Wildey at the padlock. Next, I slam the butt of my gun into the retinal scanner. The tiny screen flashes a rainbow of colors before glitching, then turning black.
Just as I’m about to enter Sean’s cell, four soldiers race down the hallway, firing at me. This is growing tiresome. They’re terrible shots; however, and I take advantage, pulling the trigger four times, watching their bodies crumple to the floor.
I need to make this fast.
Striding into the space that was mine only a week ago, I approach the box, my pulse pounding in my ears like a heavy bass. Unseeing eyes the color of a coming storm stare back at me through a tiny opening.
“Sean,” I state softly. When he doesn’t reply, his stony-hued irises glazed, I fire a shot at the lock on the side. The wood splinters, and I don’t hesitate in flinging open the lid.
I immediately scan his body, taking stock of his various injuries. Angry-looking cuts, purplish-black bruises, and gnarly burns are scattered across his torso. But the most horrific wound appears to be the one in his mind.
He doesn’t climb from the box, doesn’t so much as twitch a muscle as I crouch beside him.
Lifting my hand, I place my palm over his heart, relishing the steady beat of his life.
I press harder, as though I’m attempting to synch our heartbeats.
When that doesn’t get through to him, I tap his face gently before I grip tightly, my fingernails digging into the hollows of his cheeks.
“Look at me,” I demand, and slowly—too fucking slowly—he does. “You are Sean Diggory, and you will not break like this. I will be the only one to break you, and when I do, I promise to put you back together.”
His eyelids shutter briefly, and I hold my breath. When he does it again, my heart stutters. Come back to me.
“Lou,” he croaks, as though tasting my name for the first time after weeks of wandering a dry desert. Repeating the words he said to me when I was on the brink of shattering seems to have pierced his despondent haze. Thank fuck.
“Yeah, Sean, it’s me.” I smile. “Can you stand?”
He blinks a couple more times as though attempting to clear the mirage, but I’m not an illusion. I’m here, and I’m not leaving without him.
At a snail’s pace, he lifts his arms, and I grab his hand, assisting him as he stretches to his full height, his balance shaky.
He winces, and my attention returns to the box that was far too small for a man of his stature.
He must be in a tremendous amount of pain after, what I’m guessing is, prolonged exposure in a stressed position.
It even looks like a coffin. He must’ve felt as though he was being buried… alive.
I clench my teeth. I never should’ve allowed myself to be dragged onto that plane without him.
Shouts from elsewhere in the prison echo through the concrete jungle, and I reach behind my back to hand him the Glock. Just as I grip the gun, his palms are at my waist when he shoves me firmly against the wall.
Cool concrete penetrates my long-sleeved top as his lips collide with mine, and I shiver. Kissing Sean reminds me of stepping onto Finnish soil as a familiar tranquility washes over me, warming my skin and calming my racing pulse.
His grasp snakes around me, and I follow suit. Flinging both of my arms around him, a weapon in each hand, our tongues tangle, feasting on one another like a decadent twelve-course meal. I wish we had more time for this, but—
“We can hear you locking lips,” Viktor grumbles in my ear.
Fucking cockblock. Who says shit like locking lips anymore, anyway?
I don’t answer Vik’s unnecessary commentary as I reluctantly pry my lips from Sean’s. He drops his forehead to mine, his palm caressing my cheek, making my face match the blissful relief coursing through me.
“You came for me.”
“No one will ever take you from me again,” I vow.