Page 54 of Enemy of the Heart

A brief glance to my left reveals Jace’s narrowed gaze, pursed lips, and flared nostrils. He looks like a jaguar about to pounce.

I want to use the moment to question him about the state of his bedroom and the inked names on the wall, but I suspect that would only make this already tense situation worse.

“You knowingly sent her to that place…to us? You knew what she’d probably have to endure, and you asked her to go anyway?” Until now, he’s had no idea that Jace and I are the ones personally responsible for hurting his sister. He inclines his head while his chest puffs out.

“Did you realize that she had a kill order?”

Come at me, please. Give me an excuse to use your body for target practice. “She would’ve been dead by the time you’d gotten there.”

Mercer gets to his feet with a surprising amount of vigor, but I meet his glower with one of my own. “You’re responsible for hurting her?” he shoots back. I deserve that, but I’m not the one to blame for her being there in the first place.

“Yes.” I own my shit. “But there were men far worse than me in that place. If she’d died, that would’ve been on you.”

“Sean.” My name is a gentle whisper, only meant for me. Lou twists her head and our eyes crash like lightning. “It’s alright; I’m alright.”

Did she forget what it smelled like when her flesh was burned off her body? Does she remember the way her sputters and gags bounced off the concrete walls when I dumped buckets of water over her face? What about the agony when I whipped her? That man sitting across from us is responsible for every cut, every scream, every moment of pain.

Her attempt to placate me comes too late. The live wires inside my brain are already sparking like firecrackers. I can’t see anything but a blinding white light that eclipses my vision, save for the recipient of my vitriol. How dare he sacrifice her to the wolves that prowled that place? How could he do that to her?

“You might be alright now, Lou, but things could’ve gone differently. Borman, Jones, and Davis could’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you. Your brother is responsible for that.”

Her lips flatline, her eyes narrow, and her voice drops to a low warning. “Digs.”

In my periphery, I note the way Jace is white knuckling his bottle between his spread legs. His gaze is pinned straight ahead, fixed on the source of our ire.

“We found her strung up, being sliced and diced like a carcass of meat,” I grit out, my jaw flexing as I scowl at Mercer. “And that probably wasn’t even the worst thing that happened to her.”

“Did you ask Louhi about any of this?” he challenges me. “She knew what she was getting into.”

My blood buzzes, and my chest vibrates as my voice booms like thunder through the living room. “How could you let her take the fall for you?”

Louhi recoils, her entire body jolting as though I just slapped her across the face. Not a single sound can be heard in the room; even the heater seems to go silent. It’s the quiet of snow falling over an empty field, the stillness in the moment before a tornado touches the earth.

Her boots hit the floor with a heavy thud. Burgundy liquid sloshes out of the top of her wineglass as she slams it onto the coffee table.

I stand, clenching my fists to combat the urge to reach for her. I’m going to take whatever she throws at me.

Staring up at me with blazing irises, she pokes me in the chest, her nail sharp even through my tight, camel-colored T-shirt. “No one on this God-forsaken planet lets me do anything. Not my brother, not Honey Eyes, not you.”

Louhi

A scream snakes up my throat, but I bite down on it, trapping it between my teeth in a guttural grunt as I turn on my heel and stalk from the room. Sean calls after me, but I need space to keep myself from going bloody ballistic.

I slam the door to the basement behind me. My aggravation undulates like large waves crashing against rocks as I descend the steps to the basement.

Before I even reach the bottom, I’ve shed my shirt so I’m in nothing but combat boots, tactical pants, and my sports bra. Tossing my top aside, I step up to the heavy bag and don’t bother taping my hands before striking.

Wishing it were a person, I let my fist fly hard enough that my knuckles split, probably further damaging my fingers that were beginning to heal. I grin when blood wells in the fresh cut. Harnessing the pain, I take another swing, and another, until the physical pain blots out its emotional counterpart. Over and over, I batter the bag. My chest is heaving, and if I could breathe smoke, I could asphyxiate everyone in the house by now.

I wonder if my masochistic streak is far more prominent than I ever realized, because it’s only when my blood begins to cover my hands that I realize how much calmer I feel.

I shouldn’t be upset with Sean, but it felt as though he was piercing holes in the shield of trust that protects us. I’m a grown woman. I’m responsible only for myself. Sean doesn’t have to like the decision I made, but he needs to trust and respect me.

When my brother asked me if I’d go to prison for him for a few months, that was my decision. I knew he was going to come for me. My brother is many things—a killer, a thief, a bloody criminal—but not a liar. If a quarrel is to be had about that, it’s going to be between me and Mercer. No one else.

Sean’s protective, bordering on overly possessive, but I’ve been on my own far longer than I’ve been with him. If this is to work, he’s going to need to trust me when I say I can handle myself. Vittu.

As soon as I land a right hook kick to the bag, Sean’s deep voice, sharper than a blade, reverberates off the concrete walls of the basement. “Lou.”