Page 24 of Enemy of the Heart

My heart thumps heavily in my ears. I gulp down air as I emerge into the room. Eyes flicking to the doorway, I smile when I find the metal door closed.

Since bloody neoprene is not going to help me from here, I hastily unzip the bag and strip out of the wetsuit and change into the tactical pants and combat boots. I tug on the tight, black, long-sleeved shirt and tuck Sean’s dog tags inside the collar so he’s close to my heart.

“Are you finished getting all dolled up yet?” Viktor quips in my ear.

“Not quite. I still need to fix my eyeliner, paint my fingernails, and get a nose transplant from the stench of this place,” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, hurry up with all of that, will you?” he snarks.

Sasha saves me from reaching through my earpiece and knocking him out. “You need to be out in under fifteen minutes, Louhi. When you start leaving a trail of bodies, your window will shorten significantly.”

I nearly snort at that. As if I don’t know. What he clearly doesn’t realize is that nothing and no one could stop me from rescuing Sean today. I won’t be forced to spend one more hour without him, and anyone who dares to stop me will be faced with the answer to the existential question of what lies beyond this world.

Glancing at my watch, I lose my eyes in the back of my head when I see it’s been less than three minutes since I gained entry via the pipes. As silently and efficiently as possible, I assemble the assault rifle—outfitted with a silencer—I had in the bag, and clip the half dozen magazines to my hip. Next, I slip the tactical knife into the sheath inside my black boot and place the Ruger RXM into the holster at my other ankle. Inserting a full magazine into a Glock, I shove it into the back of my pants and reach for my beloved chrome and black .475 Wildey Magnum, sliding that into the holster at my other hip.

This semiautomatic handgun is utterly impractical since it kicks like a motherfucker and is massive, but life is too short to only carry practical guns. But as positively dreamy as it is, this baby could take down a fully grown grizzly bear, and that’s exactly the level of boom I’m looking for today. Especially since bazookas weren’t part of the plan.

Being reunited with this gun was almost as satisfying as resting my head on my precious pillow the last few nights. It’s not quite as sweet as knowing I’m mere minutes away from seeing Sean again. It’s damn close, though.

Jace

The ringing in my ears is louder than the music blaring through the cell block. It feels like somebody has taken a hatchet to my brain. I wish that was my only source of discomfort. It’s not. My whole fucking body hurts.

A bead of sweat escapes my hairline and sails toward the cut across my cheekbone. It stings as it dips inside, but it has nothing on the throbbing in my groin. Every breath I take reminds me that I feel as though I might throw up. It’s a fucking miracle I haven’t.

I don’t regret a single thing, though. Whether or not the kill order for Sean was a test, I was finished hurting my best friend. Thirty hours after Lou and Digs made a break for it, a Green Beret unit was brought in from Kazakhstan. I don’t know these twelve men, but they’re on Thompson’s same sickening level of deranged.

The first thing they did was strap me to that wooden table chock full of splinters that are still embedded in my back. When they started stretching my limbs in conjunction with the water they dumped over my cloth-covered face, I wondered if I was a goddamn softie. Why hadn’t I ever thought of that?

Probably because physical torture isn’t my thing. That’s Digs’s specialty. I prefer to raid someone’s mind like an invasive species. It’s why Sean and I make a great team. Well, until Lou came along. I never had the chance to slither into her brain; although, part of me wanted to. Not because I had the same attraction to her as Sean, but since I found her to be curious. It’s not every day you meet someone who thinks being waterboarded is…entertaining.

I know Sean hates that he’s a sadist, but I don’t mind the label. If anything, it was a relief when that head doctor with the bright red lipstick slapped it on my file. Growing up, I knew I was different, more twisted than my peers. Now I know why.

In some ways, being stationed here was a gift. I appreciate the structure, the discipline, and enjoy the heady rush when I inflict pain on others, even if the walls seem to have turned into a different, more insidious beast in the last few days. I probably would’ve gone with Sean and Louhi if not for my mom.

We’re close, and I couldn’t leave without talking to her, but there wasn’t time for that. I never would’ve been able to disappear on her without a trace. She deserves more than, “Sorry, Mom, I’m going on the run with two other fugitives. Don’t worry about me, I’ve made an assassin friend who can probably keep me safe. Have a great life.”

I didn’t make a contingency plan, though, and I’ll carry that regret with me for the rest of my life. My mom is going to crumble when that soldier knocks on her door with the words, “Ma’am, we’re sorry, but your son has been killed in the line of duty.” It’s been my mom and I against the world for as long as I can remember. Even if I somehow make it out of this alive, the odds are not in my favor for making contact with her again. At least she’ll have Sean’s mom. They’ll need each other more than ever before.

I’d planned to leave this hellscape in three years when my time here is done. What I didn’t account for is how long three years is when being repeatedly waterboarded and beaten to within an inch of my life.

I close my eyes, trying to ease the pounding in my skull. Instead, I picture Major Thompson’s face—again. I’ve been fantasizing about how I might end that dickface’s life since Lou and Digs made The Great Island Escape. If I would’ve gone with them, would things have ended differently? I suppose it doesn’t matter now.

Torturing Thompson would be fun, but playing with his mind until it combusts would be better. That’s what I’d do; I’d bend his brain until it broke. I’d need a hot, tight cunt waiting for me, though. Shattering Thompson’s spirit would only serve to make me hard, and yanking on my cock after something that epic wouldn’t suffice.

I’m surprised these assholes didn’t castrate me. Something tells me that was on the menu. I reach between my legs and cup myself, just for reassurance that I didn’t black out. Thankfully, my pillar and stones are still there. Can you hear that sound? It’s womankind sighing in relief.

There was a moment there, between the buckets of ice being dumped on my lap, when I thought I might actually have met Satan himself. Turns out, the devil has many, many faces.

The cushioned layers of my brain that have diligently protected my psyche are beginning to peel back, exposing the more raw, dangerous thoughts that tell me death would be preferential.

I’ve already decided that I won’t let them torture me to death. Every other choice has been taken from me. I won’t let them decide how I die, too.

The iron bars on my cage shake, the sound only making my head pound harder, and I grind my teeth. These dickheads should be careful pushing me too far. I have nothing left to fucking lose. The only thing stopping me from launching myself at the sources of noise is that I can barely move.

“…place is as disgusting as the inmates,” a soldier says as the door to my cell grates open with a screech that claws its way down my spine.

“Filthy,” another confirms as a boot is rammed into the lower left side of my back. I screw my eyes shut against the blinding agony radiating through my kidney but otherwise remain silent. They want a reaction.