Chapter 2 - Blood and BlueprintMarco looked entirely too comfortable in the brutal cold of the Rockies. His custom cashmere overcoat was unbuttoned, revealing a tailored suit underneath, and his eyes—the same shade of slate-gray as mine—glinted with the manic thrill of a usurper who finally believed he had secured the throne.
"You always were stubborn, Vincent," Marco chuckled, stepping further into the cabin, his boots tracking slush across Elena’s clean wooden floors. He glanced around the rustic room with undisguised disdain before his eyes landed on Elena, who stood frozen near the kitchen counter. "And who is this? A little mountain nurse? Did you really think some backwoods hermit was going to stitch you back together before my cleaning crew caught up?"
"Get out of her house, Marco," I said, my voice cold enough to freeze the fire in the hearth. I kept my weight balanced on my good leg, gripping the cast-iron skillet behind my back, waiting for the exact right fraction of a second.
"Oh, I'll leave," Marco smiled, stepping closer, though the tactical operative behind him kept his weapon trained dead-center on my sternum. "As soon as we finish what we started in Manhattan. Do you have any idea how messy it was cleaning up your board meetings after you vanished? Father’s old partners were asking questions. But don't worry—I told them you suffered a tragic skiing accident in Aspen. Very clean. Very believable."
"You sold out the syndicate to the eastern cartels," I spat, the rage burning hotter than my wound. "Everything our father built, everything we bled for—you handed it over to men who will gut our family name the moment they don't need you."
Marco's smile faltered for a microsecond, a flash of insecurity crossing his face before he masked it with a cruel sneer. "The world belongs to those who aren't afraid to pull the trigger, Vincent. You were getting soft. Too many charities, too many ethical compromises. I did what had to be done."
He raised his own hand, holding a sleek Sig Sauer pistol directly toward my head.
"Any last words for the family, brother?"
In that split second, Elena didn't scream. She didn't cower.
With a swift, practiced motion, she grabbed a jar of boiling maple syrup from the wood stove and hurled it straight into the face of the tactical operative standing behind Marco.
The man let out an agonized shriek as scalding, sugary liquid splattered across his tactical mask and exposed skin, his finger twitching involuntarily on the trigger. A burst of suppressed gunfire ripped upward, shattering the wooden ceiling beams and throwing the room into absolute chaos.
Marco stumbled back, blinded by the sudden noise and confusion.
I didn't hesitate. I swung the heavy cast-iron skillet with every ounce of strength I had left, catching Marco square across the temple with a sickening thud.
My brother collapsed like a felled oak, his pistol clattering across the floorboards.
The blinded operative swung his submachine gun toward me, but before he could acquire a target, Elena slammed a heavy oak chair down across the back of his neck, driving him face-first into the splintered coffee table. He went limp instantly.
Heavy silence rushed back into the cabin, broken only by the crackle of the fire and our ragged breathing.
I stood panting, staring down at my unconscious brother, my shoulder burning like fire. Elena stood beside me, her knuckles white as she gripped the back of the broken chair, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"You okay?" I asked, my voice rough.
Elena swallowed hard, her dark eyes flashing with a dangerous kind of light. "I told you. I'm not afraid of wolves."
"We need to move," I said, looking out the shattered front door toward the falling snow. "Marco’s comms are linked to a support team down the mountain. They’ll know he didn't check in within ten minutes."
May you like
Elena didn't hesitate. She ran to the back closet, pulling out a heavy tactical backpack, a hunting rifle, and a set of heavy-duty snowshoes.
"There's an old logging tunnel about two miles up the ridge," she said, tossing me a warm parka. "If we leave now, we vanish before his backup even reaches the tree line."
