Page 55 of Enemy of the State

What she doesn’t realize is that I’d risk a thousand infernos for her.

The tether grounding me snapped like a rotten cord weathered from years of sunlight. I’ve never known rage like the kind that pumped through me at the sight of Lou strung up, sliced open, covered in her own blood. However, it was the look of total defeat etched onto her pretty, blood-smeared face that cut my heart open. She had given up. She was waiting for death to take her from me. She was fuckingreadyfor it. That only made me angrier, and I didn’t hesitate in killing Davis for daring to make her feel that way.

The faint glimmer of herself that resurfaced when she told me that she wanted Jones for herself was the only thing that pulled me back from losing myself to the pitch-black rage nearly eclipsing my mind. It gave me pause when she said she wanted his eyes, but fuck if I didn’t want to give that woman everything she desires in this world, including a set of eyeballs. The fact that she trusted me with her retribution told me everything I wondered about how Lou felt about me.

She trusts me.

That was only etched into stone the moment she said she was mine. She sealed her damn fate when she cried out that I was hers too.

“Sean,” Lou mumbles, and my heart squeezes at the sweet sound of my name on her luscious lips.

Begrudgingly, I tug my mask back over my head, but forgo my shirt before answering her, “Yeah, Lou?”

“Can I kill the other one?” she asks groggily, making me chuckle as I wrap the blanket tightly around her, scooping her into my arms as I carry her from the room. I’m growing concerned about her blood loss and injuries. I shouldn’t have fucked her like that, but I couldn’t stop myself because I’m a bastard of the highest order.

“Yeah, baby. You can kill him,” I promise as her eyes drift close.

Gently, I place her on the table in the center of the infirmary operating room. We need some privacy, and since I’ll, apparently, be removing the eyes of anyone who sees her naked body, this is my only option.

When her brown eyes crack open again and she takes in the room we’re in, panic transforms her face.

“Breathe with me,” I instruct her, grabbing her by the shoulders and staring into her eyes. Fuck, I’ve gone softer than wet clay, but I don’t mind so much when it comes to Lou.

“In and out. Yeah, that’s it,” I coach her, and when she’s regained a semblance of calm, I add, “I needed to bring you in here so I can stitch you up, okay? I won’t leave you.”

She gives me a small nod, yet wraps the blanket around her tighter. What the fuck happened to this girl that she loses her shit every time we come in here?

Deciding that this isn’t the time to talk to her about that, I ask something equally important. “Can you tell me what happened tonight? What did they do?”

I want to think they didn’t sexually assault her, but I need to make sure I didn’t make a royal mistake by drawing that conclusion. The fact that everyone learned that the camera had been removed tells me they chose that room on purpose, wanting to hide their actions.

When her breathing is robotic, but steady, I release her, moving to the cabinet, grabbing more antiseptic and the suture kit. Jones would’ve been better at this, but he’s dead, and while it won’t be as pretty, I know how to do it. Every soldier on the island has been trained with basic survival skills, and I guess that’s coming in handy now; though I doubt the government would like to hear that I’m using my training to help an inmate, no matter how special I claim she is.

When I return to Lou, she’s still in the same position, stretchedout with the blanket around her. I pull up the bottom of the blanket to reveal her upper thigh, and give her a shot of lidocaine.

“Lou?” I prompt.

“They drugged me and took me from my cell. When I came to, I was how you found me. They said something about me being sentenced to die, but no one cared how they did it. That’s when they began cutting me.”

Despite the sickening agony she endured, relief floods me that they didn’t take things further. If they had, I’d have found a way to bring Jones and Davis back to kill them again, more viciously.

She’s quiet for a long time before she admits almost wistfully, “No one’s ever rescued me before.”

Well, fuck me straight to hell.I position my body so I’m staring down into her face and yank the stupid mask from my head once more, wanting her to see my whole face as I explain, “Louhi, believe me when I say that I’ll save you every fucking time.”

Louhi

Sean has stitched half of my wounds when Honey Eyes saunters in, his hands in his pockets. He kicks the doors shut behind him, his eyes widening as he takes in Sean’s unmasked face and my nearly naked form.

“Is this the infirmary or the love nest?” he teases, stalking toward the table.

“Fuck off, man,” Sean grumbles, but Honey Eyes just chuckles.

“C’mon, you two look pretty cozy.”

He hops up onto the table, perching next to my prone hip, his gaze skating over my injuries. His perusal isn’t full of lust—though his butterscotch eyes still sparkle with mild hunger—more of a clinical assessment.

When his eyes reach my face, he asks, “How are you feeling, Lou? You look like hell.”

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