Chapter 6 - Blood on the Snow
The safehouse Lucas Vance provided was a fortified stone estate nestled in the dense pine forests north of King City, forty miles outside Toronto.
Surrounded by a ten-foot steel fence and thermal surveillance cameras, it was designed to withstand a siege. But no fortress on earth could keep out the ghost of my grief.
I sat in an armchair by the roaring stone fireplace, wrapped in an oversized wool sweater, staring blankly at the flames. Grace’s urn sat on the mantlepiece, safe from bullets, but the quiet of the house was deafening.
Lucas walked in carrying two mugs of black coffee. He set one on the low table beside me and sat across in a leather armchair.
"My security perimeter hasn't detected any movement for three hours," Lucas said quietly. "You're safe here, Emily."
"I'll never be safe," I answered without looking up. "Not as long as Alexander is alive. Not as long as his enemies think I matter to him."
"Do you?" Lucas asked gently. "Matter to him?"
I let out a bitter, dry laugh. "To Alexander, I was an ornament. A trophy wife who didn't ask questions about where the money came from, who ironed his shirts and gave him a beautiful daughter. The moment something shinier caught his eye—like Olivia—he forgot we even existed."
Before Lucas could respond, a shrill alarm began to wail through the house.
The red emergency lights strobed against the high timber ceilings. Lucas immediately sprang to his feet, drawing a Glock 19 from his holster.
He tapped his earpiece. "Command post, report! What tripped the outer sensors?"
Static crackled over the radio, followed by the sound of heavy gunfire echoing from the front gate.
*"Sir! A lone vehicle breached the southern perimeter!"* a guard screamed over the comms. *"One man! He took out the gate team with non-lethal flashbangs! He's heading up the main driveway on foot!"*
"One man?" Lucas frowned, rushing toward the armored security monitors on the wall.
I followed him, my heart hammering in my chest.
On the black-and-white thermal camera, a tall, broad-shouldered figure was advancing through the falling snow. He wore a dark wool coat, his hands raised in the air, holding no weapons. The heavy snow whipped around his silhouette, but I would have recognized that walk anywhere on earth.
It was Alexander.
He was alone.
No armored convoy. No enforcers. Just one man walking straight into the crosshairs of fifteen armed Vance security guards.
"Hold your fire!" Lucas commanded into his radio, glaring at the monitor in utter disbelief. "Do not shoot! Let him reach the courtyard!"
Lucas turned to me, his jaw clenched. "Stay behind me, Emily."
"No," I said, my voice cold as stone. "I want to look him in the eye."
We walked out onto the stone veranda. The Canadian winter air hit us like a wall of ice. Snow was falling in thick, heavy flakes, coating the pine trees and dusting the cobblestones.
Alexander walked through the open iron gates of the courtyard and stopped twenty paces away.
His face was gaunt, his cheeks hollowed out by days of sleeplessness and grief. His coat was dusted with white snow, and his dark eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot, and burning with desperate agony.
When he saw me standing beside Lucas, Alexander stumbled, dropping to his knees directly in the snow.
The most feared Mafia boss in Chicago—a man who had brought senators and cartel bosses to their knees—was kneeling before me in the freezing mud.
"Emily," he choked out, his voice raw, shredded by tears. "Emily, please."
"Why are you here, Alexander?" I called out, my voice cutting through the whistling wind. "Did you come to finish what you started?"
"I came to give you my life," Alexander whispered, bowing his head until his forehead nearly touched the frozen ground. "Kill me, Emily. Take Lucas's gun and put a bullet in my head. I deserve it. But please... please don't look at me like I'm a stranger."
"You *are* a stranger," I said, refusing to let a single tear fall. "The man I married was supposed to protect our daughter. You are just the monster who let her die."
Alexander sobbed, his broad shoulders shaking violently beneath his coat. "The Morettis are coming, Emily! I tracked their convoy across the Niagara border! Three SUVs... fifteen men with automatic weapons! They're thirty minutes behind me! They're coming to take you!"
Lucas raised his weapon, his voice sharp. "If you led them to my safehouse, Hayes, I'll execute you right where you kneel."
"I didn't lead them!" Alexander roared, looking up with wild, desperate eyes. "I cut the brake lines on their lead vehicle at the toll plaza to buy you time! I came alone to be your shield!"
Suddenly, from the treeline at the edge of the property, the sharp crack of a high-caliber rifle echoed through the valley.
*BANG.*
A bullet ripped through the snowy courtyard.
Alexander didn't duck. He didn't drop to cover.
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Instead, the instant the shot rang out, he lunged forward with explosive speed, throwing his entire body directly in front of me just as a second bullet slammed into his upper chest with a sickening, wet thud.
***
