Page 37 of Enemy of the Heart

My eyes narrow on him, and my fists clench as I dismount and plug the treadmill back in. I hate that he makes a good point. Whatever money I did have is inaccessible now, and that realization just pisses me off further. Fuck.

The tumultuous guilt and bitter anger roil in my stomach like a violent storm that I don’t have any shelter from. My only choice is to endure it.

Jace meets my eye, shaking his head with a small smirk on his lips. Ignoring him, I jump back on the treadmill, resuming my unrelenting pace. After ten minutes, Viktor dismounts from the bike next to me and rests his forearms against the armbar of my machine.

“Louhi tells me you’re somewhat of a master in the field of information extraction,” Viktor remarks, like torturing people for a living is as normal as being an accountant or electrician.

“Something like that.” Jace snorts over my shoulder, but I keep my gaze locked on the man next to me.

“Tell me, who exactly benefits when you torture yourself?”

I frown at his philosophical bullshit. He taps the bar twice and nods like he just imparted wisdom that might save civilization.

Not civilization, a phantom whispers, just you.

Louhi

When I opened my eyes to find the bed empty…again, the hourglass on my patience officially ran out. Hey, I lasted a full five days. I’m afraid of what might happen if I allow this to go on any longer. There’s too much at stake.

Reaching for the new phone I procured, I open my text thread with Viktor. I type out a message, putting my plan into motion. A minute later, his reply comes through.

Sean has been left to his own devices long enough. My brother let me spiral for two weeks before he stepped in and helped me channel my emotions into a productive form of violence. Sean needs someone to do that for him.

Half an hour later, I leave the cottage. The snowstorm from yesterday cleared. The sun is bright, sparkling against the blanket of snow like glitter on the floor in the aftermath of a sensational party.

Filling my lungs with crisp, wintery air, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket as I trek toward the main house. Once inside, I descend into Viktor’s subterranean basement.

I head toward the sound of pulsing music, the heavy riff and beat familiar. When I reach the gym, I pause in the doorway. I cross my arms and lean a shoulder against the doorframe. “While We Serve” by Orbit Culture blares through the speakers as Sean, Jace, Sasha, and Viktor work out…sans shirts. I stand there, openly gawking at the impressive display. Who wouldn’t?

The potent, mouthwatering scent of masculinity and testosterone-laced pheromones in this room have me clenching my thighs. If this smell could kill me, I’d gladly walk inside without a biohazard hazmat suit.

Slick sweat covers their bodies, dripping haphazardly onto the black mats and equipment. While the incredible physique of the other three men are abso-bloody-lutely worthy of attention, it’s Sean who I find my gaze latching onto.

His eyebrows are pinched in concentration, his lips pursed. The way his right bicep bulges and squeezes with every rep of curls he completes makes the notion of licking the salty sweat from his skin quite appealing.

At that moment, he turns, catching sight of me in the doorway. I wink, but his face remains carefully impassive. Give me something, Sean.

Viktor notices me next, racking his weights, and grabbing a towel that he runs over his face and neck. Starting at his wrists, intricate, alluring tattoos snake up his arms and slither down both his front and back. He lifts an eyebrow, a phantom smile threatening to break through. “Did you stop by just to ogle us?”

Smirking, I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m enjoying the view, but I wouldn’t mind fewer clothes on the artwork.”

Jace sniggers as he shakes his head. Sasha and Viktor chuckle, and the latter, unfortunately, dons a shirt. Sean drops his dumbbell between his feet. I push off the doorframe and saunter in his direction.

Standing before him, I hold out a hand. He studies it, then slides his attention up my arm before landing on my face. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

I wiggle my fingers in answer. He exhales audibly but places his hand in mine.

When we arrive at the door I’m looking for, I type in the code on the padlock that Viktor sent me. Swinging the metal door open, I allow Sean to walk through first, shutting us inside with a sinister-sounding bang. I’ve been in here once before, helping Viktor question one of his soldiers for vital information we both needed. Seeing it through Sean’s eyes, however, is like watching a small child experience the twinkling magic of Christmas for the first time, even if he’s trying to mask it.

He walks around the interrogation room, observing the reclinable chair positioned on the left side of the room, complete with straps and the metal table and chairs on the right. With a smile, I hit a button on the wall next to the door, and the panels to both the right and the left of the entrance part, revealing shelves of tools and equipment.

He spins in place, taking in the vast assortment at our disposal. His eyebrows wrinkle, and his lips tip down. “What are we doing here, Louhi?”

Padding over to the metal table, I hop up onto the edge, my legs swinging freely. I glance at the camera in the left-hand corner. Vik assured me that he’d have the tape erased without watching it. I don’t believe him. Pervert.

“I thought we could have some fun.”