Page 74 of Enemy of the State

Lou immediately switches from English to something Slavic—Russian, I think—and after a rapid-fire conversation, she hangs up the phone, her face arcane as we back out of the booth. I didn’t even know she spoke Russian until just now and it makes me wonder what other languages she can speak fluently.

Louhi Koskinen is a never-ending, seemingly unsolvable mystery.

I frown, my eyebrows slashing down so far that they damn near eclipse my vision as she makes out like a bandit—which, I guess, she is—for the wooded, overgrown area to our left. While it only takes me a few long strides to catch her, my head buzzes with the need for answers and my hands twitch to do something,anything. As soon as we’re under the cover of the trees and vegetation, I grip her arm—not hard, but firmly enough that she knows I’m not fucking around—and spin her to face me.

Slanting her head to the side, her almond-shaped eyes seem to glow with the gift of freedom. However, now that she’s free of her prison, I wonder if I might be entering mine.

“What the fuck was that? Who did you call?”

She arches an eyebrow at me like she can’t believe I’d ask suchan asinine question, but I’ve never been on the run before, and I don’t like feeling in the dark in this situation.

I’m spiraling. I’ve been out of control for far longer than I’m comfortable with. The stakes of the situation couldn’t be higher, the pressure biting down on my chest in a death grip. When she doesn’t respond right away, I entreat her, my voice scratchy and low, “Lou.”

Her name hangs between us like a noose swaying in the breeze, unspoken words and questions braided into the rope.Are we going to survive this? Will I have given up everything just to lose her in the end?

Anxiety threatens to strangle us, killing us slowly as we die a painful, excruciating death. As I fight the urge to give life to those dark thoughts, she slips her hand into mine, our fingers intertwining like roots on an ancient, steadfast tree.

“Fucking talk to me,” I implore, and her expression softens, morphing into something bordering on apologetic.

“Thatwas our ride out of here. He’ll be here at noon tomorrow.”

“Who is ‘he?’”

A beat passes before she breathes, “Viktor Novikov,” like I’d know who the fuck that is.

My face must clue her in to my ignorance, and she explains, “The Pakhan of the Bratva.”

I remember Jace mentioning her father’s ties to the Bratva, but what thefuckis a‘Pakhan’?“In motherfucking English, Lou.”

She gives me a small, sheepish smile. “Viktor is the head of the Russian mafia, like the Godfather or Capo is of the Italian mob.”

Taking a deep, centering breath, I remember that this is the life I signed up for with Louhi. This is her world and these are her people.

“What did you mean when you said you were ‘collecting payment?’” I ask, my voice the only sound over the roar of the distant ocean and the steady buzz and chatter of insects.

She pulls me deeper into the wooded area, until we’re enveloped by the condensed, flourishing verdure, her face alight with the glow of freedom. “I did a…sensitive job for him a few years ago, and atthe time, my gut told me to demand a favor as payment instead of money. I just cashed that in.”

“And, he’s what? Sending a plane? A boat? Where are we going?”

Stepping into my space, she tilts her head back as her free hand snakes up the front of my uniform, gliding over the camouflaged-printed cotton and nylon before settling around the back of my neck, dragging my head down to meet hers. “He’s sending his plane. It’ll pick us up and take us to Russia.”

Even before her lips dance with mine, I know she’s attempting to feed me the comfort I so desperately need; the reassurance that we’ll make it off this goddamn island.

Louhi presses onto the balls of her feet, her lips skating across mine for a moment. Restraining myself, I wait, briefly letting her lead, opening for her as she explores my mouth. It’s not long before my tether breaks and I melt into her, cupping the back of her head as I deepen the kiss.

Lou’s lips taste like the right choice, a good decision, likelove.

As our mouths tangle, I can almost feel our souls coalescing, intimately knitting together and binding us to each other permanently. We kiss until our surroundings seem to vaporize, leaving us the only two people left in this world.

Pressing her closer to me, I slide our joined hands around the small of her back. As the waves in the distance crash in a hypnotic rhythm and the bugs sing their song around us, I lose myself in Lou, in the slice of freedom we’re sharing, one that’s hopefully not temporary.

Our bodies connect as I tug on her braided hair, my movements becoming more frantic as we claw and scrape at each other’s clothes, shedding them. When Lou is left in nothing but the black cotton prison uniform top, I rip it down the middle, discarding it in the shrubbery.

A heartbeat later, we’re frantically swallowing one another’s cries and moans, fervently filling each other with everything we’venever voiced aloud, reminding the other that we’ll make it out alive—together.

Our fears will not hang us.

Enraptured by the spell cast by the moment, we aren’t in control, giving our bodies the ultimate authority. The threads connecting us feel stronger than steel, our shared respect and trust weaving a beautiful pattern into the fabric of our hearts.

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