Page 11 of Enemy of the Heart

“Better?” he inquires, not looking up from his phone.

I’d be better if this plane would turn around so I could go rescue Sean. But I was daft enough to only learn to pilot a helicopter, not an aircraft, and if I hijack this plane and we crash into the Pacific, I’m damning Sean to a fate worse than death.

“I suppose,” I mutter.

“Eat with me.” It’s not a request, even if his cordial tone suggests otherwise. He sounds like his grandfather. It teleports me back to when I was a child, when I’d have the fortune of accompanying my father to work. Even before I understood that my father worked for the Bratva, I knew that a trip to the Novikov estate meant that I could play with Viktor.

Not that I was angling to get into trouble with the stone-cold Pakhan back then. I’m glad Vik never lost his light. If anything, he’s brightened up a bit after having me kill the vile man standing between him and ultimate power. It turned out that murdering his grandfather was beneficial for me, too, since that payment in the form of a favor was what I cashed in last night.

Where other boys I knew treated me differently because I was younger, or a girl, or some other notion that was utterly demented, Vik always treated me as a friend, an equal. I’ve never mentioned it because I wouldn’t want to be a contributing factor to Viktor’s ego, but as an adult, I’ve wondered if he saw a kindred spirit flickering within me. He’s always been astute and reads people even better than anyone I know—me included.

Taking the seat opposite him, I place the gun on the table just as two plates arrive, teeming with fresh vegetables and seasoned meat. The sight makes my stomach growl audibly. Viktor finally lifts his head and quirks a dark blond eyebrow, but blessedly remains silent. I’ve quickly burned through the energy that burger provided.

A few bites into our meal, Viktor breaks the silence, not in the way I expected. “You could’ve warned me that I would be entering in a conflict with the United States military.”

“Would you have come to collect me if I’d told you that?” I ask after swallowing a bite of broccolini.

His silence is answer enough—that’s a fuck no—not requiring a follow-up. “How’d you get caught?”

I’m sure it wasn’t challenging for him to put the pieces together, given the actual bloody army that arrived at the airstrip. “I did a favor for Mercer.”

His eyes widen a fraction, his jaw flexing. “Why the fuck would you have done that, Louhi?”

My lip curls in warning at his scathing disbelief.

When I don’t answer, he sighs, shaking his head as he wisely chooses not to press me. Viktor never connected with Mercer the way he did with me. That’s mostly because my brother stopped hanging out with me and Viktor when I was seven. I don’t know if that’s because fourteen was the age that it stopped being fashionable to hang out with his little sister. Then again, that was around the time he discovered that Isä was Igor Novikov’s enforcer. I figure it was the former.

It’s not until we both finish eating that he broaches the subject I’d thought he would’ve begun with. “You saw Kazi with your own eyes? You’re sure it was him?”

“Yes. He was alive when we parted ways, but I don’t know if he got out.”

I watch as the relief on Viktor’s face is overshadowed by frustration. He masks it quickly. “Out of where, exactly?”

“Exile Island. A prison about five hundred kilometers from mainland Hawai’i. A black site, I presume.”

“A black site,” he repeats. The way his breaths are slightly heavier is the only indication that this is affecting him. He shifts his gaze to stare unseeingly out of the small window. I’m sure he’s thinking about Kazi and what he must’ve endured, but I notice how much he looks like his grandfather now. Viktor’s blade-sharp jawline and high, severe cheekbones match the late Pakhan, but it’s the firm set to his eyebrows that seems so familiar. Igor used to make that same expression when he was displeased.

I never met Viktor’s parents, but I’ve often wondered who Vik inherited his more charming personality from. I’m certain it wasn’t his grandfather. If I had to guess, Igor Novikov is the reason Viktor’s parents disappeared in the dead of night when he was two.

The news that Kazi didn’t die four years ago must be jarring. I wasn’t there when Viktor’s second in command vanished and was presumed dead, but I was around for part of the aftermath. I watched Viktor’s cerulean eyes dim and darken as he mourned one of his closest friends.

Viktor wasn’t the only one affected by the void left by Kazi. Sasha, the man who filled the vacant position, seemed to have hardened, losing some of the light of his normally affable countenance. For years, the three of them had been inseparable. I can only imagine the emotions battling within Viktor right now, even if none of them are evident in his expression.

When he takes a deep breath and nods, the boa constrictor around my heart marginally loosens its vice. “Alright, but we’re doing this my way, and we don’t leave without Kazi.”

“Or Digs,” I add, not bothering to push back about doing things his way since it’s sure to be as violent as anything I’d plan.

He dips his chin again as he slips a hand into his suit jacket and removes his phone. His fingers move over the screen that’s angled away from me. “Sasha will meet us at Conall’s flat in Boston with the weapons we’ll need. Once we’re there, it’ll be safe for us to make arrangements.”

I grin, my first real smile in hours. Sean simply needs to hold on until I can come up with a rescue mission.

Sean

It feels like my eyelids are stuck together when I try to peel them apart, my eyeballs burning when the stale air assaults them. I immediately recognize the inhospitable, dank surroundings of the place I called home for the last two years. Discomfort cocoons me as I gingerly roll to a sitting position, wincing at the way my body aches. I try not to move too much since the oppressive humidity only adds to the uncomfortable warmth of this place, and I don’t want to exert much energy.

Though my circumstances are anything but funny, I nearly laugh at the irony of this situation.

I hadn’t realized the bars on my invisible cell slamming closed a little more with each passing day over the years. It took Louhi’s arrival for me to notice that this island had become my own sort of prison. The difference between myself and the inmates is that the government didn’t bat an eye at my crimes. In fact, they gave me a gun. It didn’t save me. But she did.