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"My hero." She started stripping off her clothes as she headed into the bathroom. "There are toiletries, first-aid supplies, and bathrobes in here," she called out.

"Good."

Lokan waited until he heard the shower start, then began exploring the cabin. The kitchen was indeed fully stocked—canned goods, dried foods, even fresh bread and milk in the refrigerator.

It was all basic and utilitarian, and it would do for now, but after years of living in luxury and playing the role of successful businesspeople, they had grown accustomed to better.

Fifteen minutes later, Carol emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, her hair wrapped in a towel and wearing one of the bathrobes that was made for someone twice her size. "Your turn," she said. "It was a great sacrifice, but since I love you so much, I left you some hot water."

"Thank you." He kissed her as he passed. "I'll be quick."

The shower was indeed heaven. Lokan stood under the spray, letting the hot water wash away days of sweat and grime. By the time he emerged, he felt almost human again. Or immortal, rather.

He found Carol dressed in clothes that didn't quite fit—a pair of sweatpants that were too long and a sweatshirt that was too large.

"Where did you find those?" He waved a hand over her.

"In the closet. There is a matching outfit for you as well."

"Perfect." He opened the closet door. "Do you still want to go shopping, or will these do?"

She looked at herself and grimaced. "I can't arrive at the village looking like this."

"You look beautiful as you always do," he said. "It doesn't matter what you have on."

"You're so sweet." She smiled. "But I have no choice. I have to go shopping."

"Then let's make it quick. Clothes that fit, proper luggage, and maybe that face cream if they have it."

"They won't have it out here, and the clothing will be no better than what we had on the trek, but at least they will be the right size and clean."

Grant appeared in the doorway. "If you're going out, at least one of us needs to go with you."

"We'll be fine," Lokan said. "Unless you guys need to do some shopping as well?"

"We don't," Grant said. "But we are here to protect you. I should go with you."

Carol stretched on her toes to kiss Grant's cheek. "You forget that Lokan and I are not inexperienced civilians. We are both trained, and we know what we are doing."

Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Bring back food," Camden called from the living room.

"Pizza?" Dougal suggested hopefully. "Do they have pizza out here?"

"We'll see what we can find." Lokan ushered Carol toward the door before the shopping list could grow longer.

The car Mikko had mentioned was in the garage—an older model Volvo. The keys were on the hook by the door.

"Are you okay to drive?" Carol asked as she got in. "Did you sleep on the plane?"

"I dozed off for a little bit. That's enough for me."

It wasn't, and he was operating on fumes, but thankfully Carol didn't argue for a change, and soon they were driving through the Finnish forest.

"This feels so surreal," Carol said, adjusting the heater vents. "Three days ago, we were running for our lives through Mongolia, and now we're going shopping in Finland like a normal couple."

"We're not a normal couple." He smiled at her. "We're extraordinary people who happen to need new underwear."

She laughed. "When you put it that way, it sounds almost romantic."

"Everything is romantic with the right person," he said, reaching over to take her hand.

"Such a smooth talker."

"That's why you love me."

"Among other things." She waggled her brows.

The shopping center appeared exactly where Mikko had said, a modern building that looked almost alien, dropped into the wilderness as it was. The parking lot held a few dozen cars at most, all older models.

Carol squared her shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle. "Thirty minutes, starting now."

He chuckled. "You make it sound like a race."

They entered through sliding doors into fluorescent-lit normalcy. A department store anchored one end, a grocery store the other, with smaller shops in between. Music played softly over hidden speakers.

"Divide and conquer?" Carol suggested. "You get luggage and men's clothes, I'll handle women's wear?"

"Together," Lokan said firmly. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Overprotective much?"

"Recently hunted by multiple armies," he countered.

"Fair point." She linked her arm through his. "Ladies' department first. I refuse to spend another minute in these sweats."

What followed was the most normal half hour they'd experienced in recent memory.

Carol efficiently selected clothing appropriate for travel and in the correct size.

She didn't bother trying anything on, claiming that she was old and experienced enough not to need that.

She knew what looked good on her, and he couldn't argue with that.

"What about this?" She held up a soft blue sweater.

"Beautiful. It matches your eyes," he said without thinking. "But don't forget that the summer where we are going is not a Finnish summer. You won't need this in the village."

"True." She added it to the pile anyway.

He was wise enough not to ask why.

They found two rolling suitcases, and Carol discovered a face cream that wasn't French, but it made her happy nonetheless.

"Five minutes to spare," she announced, checking her watch. "Time to get food."

The grocery store was small but well-stocked. They loaded a cart with fresh produce, bread, cheese, and wine.

"Frozen pizza for Dougal." Carol added several boxes to the cart. "And beer. We've all earned it."

"We have." Lokan selected a bottle of whiskey that was basic but would do.

They were heading for check-out when Carol suddenly stopped, her hand tightening on his arm. "Lokan."

He followed her gaze to the newspaper rack. The headlines were in Finnish, but the photos were unmistakable—their faces, clearly taken from some identification database, stared back at them.

"International business couple missing," Carol translated with the help of her phone. "Feared kidnapped."

"Well," Lokan said, "that's not ideal."

"You think?" She pulled him away from the papers. "We need to go. Now."

They weren't famous or important enough to appear in a Finnish newspaper, so it was obviously Gorchenco's doing. He must have bribed the editor to run the story so that they would be easier to locate.

They checked out quickly, the teenage cashier barely glancing at them as she scanned their items. Still, Lokan felt exposed, watched, even though logic told him no one here would connect them to the newspaper photos of a cosmopolitan-looking couple.

Loading the car felt like it took forever, every passing stranger a potential threat. Only when they were back on the forest road did Carol relax.

"I'm so glad that I changed my hair color." She cast him a sidelong glance. "You shouldn't have shaved."

He lifted his hand to rub his jaw. "Yeah, I shouldn't have. Too late, though."

"We look nothing like the business executives in those photos." He gestured at their casual clothes. "Someone would need to pay close attention to recognize us from those."

They drove in tense silence for a few minutes before Carol spoke again. "You know what the funny thing is?"

"What's that?"

"Six months ago, seeing our faces in a newspaper would have been good for business. Now it's a disaster."

"Our definition of success has changed," he agreed.

"For the better, though." She squeezed his hand. "We are finally going home."

They pulled up to the safe house as the sun was setting. Grant met them at the door.

"Any problems?" he asked.

"Define problems." Carol handed him grocery bags.

Lokan showed him a photo of the newspaper on his phone, and Grant's expression darkened. "That's not good."

"Every intelligence service in the world will be looking for us," Lokan said.

"The good news is we brought pizza," Carol offered. "And beer."

Dougal appeared as if summoned by magic. "Did someone say pizza?"

"And beer," Camden added, joining them. "Blessed be the providers."

"I'll let Onegus and Turner know," Grant said, pulling out his phone.

Later, dressed in new clothes that fit, fed and warm, Lokan stepped out on the cabin's front porch with Carol. She'd wrapped herself in a blanket, steam rising from her teacup.

"Look," she whispered, pointing up.

The Northern Lights were dancing across the sky in ribbons of green and gold, nature's light show unfolding above the silent forest.

"It's beautiful." He pulled her closer.

"Think we can do normal after all we've been through?" Carol asked softly.

"Probably not," Lokan admitted. "We'll have to find ways to amuse ourselves, or we'll suffer from withdrawal symptoms. Those Perfect Match adventures might provide some much-needed adrenaline boosts from time to time."

Carol laughed. "I don't think they have anything as crazy as what we've been through lately."

"Probably not."