Chapter 4 - The Shadows of ChicagoBy Friday, the mountain weather cleared, leaving behind crisp, frost-kissed air and brilliant autumn sunlight. But the peace in Gray Hollow was an illusion.
Word had already spread through the tiny West Virginia town that a fleet of luxury foreign cars with out-of-state plates had descended upon the local motel. People whispered in the diner; old men paused their checker games on the courthouse porch to watch black SUVs crawl past the bakery.
I was wiping down the front counter of Pike’s Bakery when the bell above the door chimed.
I didn't look up immediately, assuming it was Mrs. Higgins coming in for her usual morning sourdough loaf.
"We're just opening—" I began, looking up.
The words died in my throat.
It wasn't Mrs. Higgins. It was Vanessa.
She wore an expensive white wool coat that looked entirely out of place among the flour sacks and wooden shelves of the rustic bakery. Her blonde hair was styled to perfection, though dark circles under her eyes betrayed a sleepless desperation.
"Hello, sister," Vanessa said, her voice dripping with a familiar, toxic sweetness.
I froze, the rag slipping from my hand onto the counter. "How did you find me?"
"Please. Luca spent millions turning half the country upside down looking for you," Vanessa laughed softly, stepping closer, her heels clicking sharply against the wooden floor. "It wasn't hard for me to bribe one of his low-level drivers to give me the destination once he found your little mousehole."
"Get out," I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "Get out of my shop before I call the local sheriff—or worse, before I call the man sitting in that black SUV outside."
Vanessa’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second at the mention of Luca, but she recovered quickly, stepping behind the counter into my private space.
"You think he wants you back, don't you?" she sneered, her eyes flashing with sudden, bitter hatred. "You think because he didn't touch me after you left that he actually loves you? Sarah, men like Luca Moretti don't love. They conquer. He's obsessed with you right now because you humiliated him by running away. The moment he gets you back to Chicago, the novelty will wear off, and he'll go right back to what he always was."
"And you would know all about what he was, wouldn't you?" I fired back, stepping right up to her, refusing to cower. "You crawled into my bed, Vanessa. You betrayed your own blood because you thought you could wear my rings. And look where it got you—tossed out like trash, chasing after a man who wouldn't even piss on you if you were on fire."
A sharp slap echoed through the bakery.
My head snapped to the side, a hot, stinging pain blooming across my cheek.
Vanessa’s hand was raised, her chest heaving. "You arrogant little bitch—"
She didn't get to finish her sentence.
The front door of the bakery flew open with such force that the glass pane nearly shattered. Heavy footsteps thundered across the floorboards.
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Before Vanessa could even turn around, a massive hand grabbed her by the collar of her expensive white coat, yanking her backward with terrifying force.
Luca Moretti stood there, his face carved from dark, merciless granite, his amber eyes burning with a murderous rage that made the air in the room drop twenty degrees.
