Chapter 4 - The Hunt Begins
Panic hit Mara like a tidal wave. Her mind raced—she had no money, no defensive training, and her only weapon was an old iron poker and a mafia boss's handgun sitting high on a cupboard shelf.
"Mara," Roman’s voice cut through her terror like a steel blade. "Look at me."
She turned, her face pale, her hands shaking.
"Listen to my voice," Roman commanded softly, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute authority. "Panicking gets you killed. Precision keeps you alive. How many miles to the nearest neighbor?"
"Four," she stammered. "The roads are blocked by snow. No one comes down this lane until the county plow arrives tomorrow."
"Good," Roman said. "They don't know for sure I'm alive. They're just sweeping the perimeter of the crash site to be certain. If they see fresh tracks leading to your door, they'll breach."
"The snow swept over my tracks from last night!" Mara said, her mind working quickly now. "The storm buried everything!"
"Then they are checking houses out of routine," Roman deduced. "Who is the lead man?"
Mara peeked back through the curtain. "Tall. Bald head under a black beanie. A scar across his left eyebrow."
Roman’s jaw tightened. "Gus. Vincent’s chief enforcer. A butcher. He won't ask questions. If he steps inside this house, he will kill you first, search the rooms second."
"What do we do?" Mara whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "You can't move!"
"I don't need to move to kill a man, Mara," Roman said, his voice dropping into an icy register. "Get my gun from the shelf."
Mara didn't argue. She ran to the counter, pulled down the heavy steel pistol, and brought it to him.
Roman took the weapon. With practiced, lightning-fast motions, he checked the magazine, chambered a round, and clicked off the safety. The familiarity of the steel in his hand seemed to transform him—he was no longer a helpless, crippled victim; he was the apex predator of the Albany underworld once more.
"Bear," Roman whispered softly.
The mastiff turned, stepping close to Roman's side. Roman placed his hand on the dog's head, leaning close to his ear. "Quiet, boy. Hold."
The dog seemed to understand the command perfectly, sinking low to the floorboards, his amber eyes fixed on the front door, his body coiled like a steel spring.
Heavy footsteps crunched on the frozen porch outside.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sound echoed through the small house like gunshot blasts.
Mara looked at Roman. He gestured for her to answer it, pointing two fingers toward the side of the doorframe where she would be out of the direct line of fire. He sat back against the hearth wall, hiding the pistol beneath the folds of his heavy wool quilt.
Mara swallowed hard, wiped her hands on her jeans, and walked to the door.
She opened it three inches, keeping the heavy brass security chain engaged.
"Can I help you?" Mara asked, forcing her voice to sound tired, annoyed, and completely ordinary.
The tall man with the scar stood on her porch. Cold air rolled off his black snowsuit. Behind him, his partner stood five feet back, his hand resting inside his heavy jacket.
"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," Gus said, his voice a flat, emotionless drone. "We're with the State Forest Search and Rescue. We're looking for an elderly hiker who went missing off the Route 9 ridge last night during the storm."
"In four-below weather?" Mara lied seamlessly, her eyes widening in mock surprise. "God help him. I haven't seen anyone out here. The road's been blocked since yesterday afternoon."
Gus’s eyes narrowed. His gaze drifted past her shoulder, scanning the narrow slice of the kitchen visible through the three-inch gap in the door.
He caught the scent of fresh coffee. And then his eyes dropped to the floorboards near the wood stove.
A single droplet of fresh, dark blood sat on the white pine floor—dropped from Roman’s shoulder when Mara had dragged him inside.
Gus’s expression changed instantly. His hand moved toward his waist.
"Ma'am," Gus said softly. "I'm gonna need to step inside and use your phone."
"My landline is down," Mara said, starting to push the door shut. "Try the fire station down on—"
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Gus slammed his heavy combat boot against the base of the door!
The wooden frame splintered with a deafening CRACK! The brass chain snapped like wire, and the heavy door burst inward, knocking Mara backward onto the floor!
