Page 7 of Enemy of the Heart

“Seriously, I politely requested that he make me two burgers but told him I didn’t have any money. He said beautiful women should never go hungry.”

Great. Now, I want to kill the guy. The me from a year ago wouldn’t have thought twice about a kind stranger telling a woman I was with that she was attractive, but today? I’d like to reach into his throat and rip out his trachea.

Louhi has changed everything for me.

Louhi

I feel truly sated for the first time in months. I underestimated how incredible it’d be to have real food in my belly. The delicious ache between my legs doesn’t hurt either.

With only forty minutes until Viktor’s arrival, reality is a siren’s call we can’t ignore any longer.

The ocean bellows beyond the trees as we gather our knapsacks filled with the weapons Honey Eyes gathered for us. I shove a Glock with a fresh magazine into my pants, pulling the hideous jumper over the bulge.

I roll my head from side to side, closing my eyes as I force the adrenaline to wane. This is why I prefer to study my targets for days, weeks, or even months. The unknown leads to disorderly kills and sticky situations. It’s best to go undetected.

Getting to the private airfield midafternoon won’t be easy. When Sean slips his hand into mine, my eyelashes fluttering open again, I sense that he’s wordlessly assuring me that we will escape.

Sean follows closely as I step warily from the tree line, my feet sloshing within Honey Eyes’s too-large boots. The youthful squeals, peals of laughter, and ambient chatter rise over the thunderous sound of the breaking waves in the near distance indicate that the beach is crowded.

Without access to the internet or a police scanner, we have no way of knowing if the army base released a be on the lookout, or the full extent of the search for us. Although I have no doubt that there’s a hunt of some sort underway.

Glancing at Sean, I wonder for the hundredth time if his uniform will be a blessing or a curse, and I pray to the Finnish goddess Mielikki for some luck. If the mythological goddess of the hunt can’t help, no one can.

I feel every casual glance from the people we pass. Every spoken word that’s in our vicinity hits my brain like an arrow finding its target. My adrenaline climbs as we make our way toward a side street that leads to a quiet neighborhood, and I force myself to breathe.

I got out. I’m already free, I remind myself. I won’t be dragged back to Exile Island, no matter what. I’ll never again set foot on that tropical island of hell and torment. I’ll die before that happens.

The only man permitted to hurt me stands at my back.

In hushed voices, with only the trees for company, we developed our plan. In accordance with what we discussed, I immediately begin scouting the area for an inconspicuous car to hot-wire when we pass the quaint beach houses.

The farther we walk, the more the hair on my neck stands on end, my index finger itching to wrap around the trigger of the Glock still in my waistband. The void, black eyes of doorbell cameras track our every move like stationary ghosts that whisper to each other.

I grit my teeth, my jaw working as I attempt to ignore their presence. It’s not until the houses dip from the posh-as-fuck price bracket into modest and cozy that I spot a vehicle we could steal.

My heart thumps when I stop in front of an ancient, filthy sedan. Trying the door, it opens. Thank you, Mielikki.

Once we settle into the car, I open the glove compartment, and I’m practically giddy when I find a map. I quickly assess our location and direct Sean out of the quiet neighborhood. The black, all-seeing orbs fastened to the various porches watch our exit, and I explain, “We need to ditch this car.”

“Already?”

It’s such a shame we couldn’t still be using the bike we had last night, but switching up our ride was necessary. “We need to pick one up somewhere else, as soon as possible.”

A few minutes later, Sean’s pulling into a petrol station and parking with a view of the pumps. Immediately, I find the omniscient eye of the government positioned on the corner of the building.

Without weeks of reconnaissance, studying the situation extensively, it’s impossible to go entirely undetected, but I’m not willing to risk that one of the doorbell camera owners won’t call the authorities. We need a new car.

We pounce on the opportunity when a blue compact car pulls into the station, which the owner abandons to go inside without locking it. The poor sod even left the keys in the ignition.

“Do you think they’ll call the cops?” Sean asks, carefully pulling onto the street as to not draw attention to himself. He even used the blinker. Good boy.

I snort. “Definitely.”

Using the map, I direct Sean onto several back roads that will hopefully throw anyone off our trail. If we had more time, I’d toss the plates, but Viktor won’t wait around for us. He’s never been patient.

We’ve been on the motorway for several kilometers when I glance behind us at the same time Sean says, “Military vehicle three cars back.”

The blood in my veins bubbles as my body prepares for a fight. Looking at my map, I direct him calmly, “Take the next left, then an immediate right. Don’t take the turns too quickly.”