“ENOUGH!”* My breath stops. That grunt—familiar. The blindfold is torn off in one motion. Light stabs my eyes. I blink, heart hammering, searching the crowd for the shape behind the voice. For a beat, no one moves—Romani faces flickering between suspicion and relief, Azerbaijani bystanders holding back. Somewhere in the tangle, I know the wolf…
Tag: Romance
The COMC Files Book V chapter 22
Tehran – Hana Boutique Hotel Real destination next. Mikael’s text is succinct: shaman in Maranjab. Not caravanserai—but past salt lake, dunes eating horizon under star-vault. Tarmo: linen shirt, loose trousers, scarred boots. Downstairs, the Land Cruiser idled, Mikael door-side. Lean man: battered leather jacket, scarf, night-chill doubled. “Reza,” Mikael said. “Ja’far’s pick. Knows desert beyond…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 20
The jet shuddered into a slow taxi, twin engines spooling down as Tehran’s dawn tilted gold over the tarmac. Imam Khomeini International unfurled beyond the glass: vast, oddly tranquil—its mirrored surfaces glinting like distant mosque domes. Tarmo leaned into the cabin window, pulse half-lulled by altitude and adrenaline, aware that every arrival—no matter how choreographed—carried…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 13
Tarmo Most women, for me, are beautiful cities: worth savouring, never worth staying. Elena was never a pin on my map. She’s the one place I keep circling, whatever the longitude: Pärnu, Zurich, the nights where, against every adult instinct, I bargained with powers older than strategy. Called on Odin like some northern fool in…
The COMC Files: Blue light
Trust Amellal, Zurich Headquarters The command centre is flooded with blue light and sleep deprivation. Tarmo stands above three monitors—one cycling through riverbank thermal images, another frozen on a grainy satellite view of the Carpathians, a third pulsing with encrypted alerts from half a dozen agencies. His broad, pale face—so often unreadable—now bears twin crescents…
The Chronicles of a Memory Cartographer: Transylvania
While Karim secures our exit and radios Mikael, Sandi, and I move through the manor—door by door, hope burning with each threshold crossed. Whether Tarmo waits in chains or cowering in decades-old terror, I won’t abandon this borderland until we’ve carved our own ending into history. I slam through the study door, lungs burning, sweat…
The Chronicles of a Memory Cartographer: Lake Tarnita
Outside, the first bells ring through the valley, signalling not only another day, but also the pressing weight of what lies ahead. After breakfast, I slip on my jacket and gather the day’s documents:CYcrds identification, clearly visiblefresh grant letters bearing European emblemsa thick folder filled with signed permissions from museums, schools, and council offices—thanks, naturally,…
The Chronicle of a Memory Cartographer: Odoreu
I let Karim’s hand settle in mine, guiding him into the sparse hush of my room. The shadows shift as we draw the curtains, leaving only a sliver of moonlight across the bed—enough to see how hunger and doubt flicker in his eyes. We don’t speak. The space between us is already thick with memories:…
The Memory Cartographer 