CHAPTER 2: The Morning They Were Supposed to Be Dead
CHAPTER 2: The Morning They Were Supposed to Be Dead
Sarah barely slept.
Every twenty minutes she reached across the wooden floor to feel Dominic Rossi's pulse, terrified each time that her fingers would find only cold skin.
His fever kept climbing.
The makeshift bandage she had packed into the bullet wound was already stained through again. She tore another strip from the lining of her housekeeping uniform and reinforced the pressure dressing, silently thanking every anatomy professor who had drilled emergency trauma procedures into her years before.
Outside, dawn arrived without sunlight.
The blizzard had transformed the forest into a white desert. Snow buried the cabin almost halfway to its windows, muffling every sound except the constant howl of the wind.
For the first time in hours, Sarah allowed herself to breathe.
Then she heard it.
Engines.
Far away.
But getting closer.
She froze.
Not one vehicle.
Several.
Dominic opened his eyes before she could wake him.
"They found the estate," he whispered hoarsely.
Sarah looked toward the frosted window.
"Maybe it's rescue."
His expression answered before his words did.
"No."
He struggled upright despite the pain.
"My uncle doesn't leave witnesses."
Sarah helped him sit against the wall.
"You can't even stand."
"I don't have to."
He reached inside his torn jacket and removed something wrapped in blood-soaked cloth.
A satellite phone.
Its screen was cracked.
The battery flashed two percent.
Sarah stared.
"You had that the whole time?"
"I forgot."
She almost laughed.
Instead she shook her head.
"You nearly died because you forgot?"
A faint smile crossed Dominic's face.
"For the record... that's embarrassing."
It was the first human expression Sarah had ever seen from the man newspapers called the Ice Prince of the Rossi empire.
Then the phone vibrated.
One message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
IF YOU ARE ALIVE, DO NOT RETURN TO THE ESTATE. EVERYONE INSIDE HAS BEEN REPLACED. TRUST NO ONE.
Sarah looked at Dominic.
"You know who sent this?"
He slowly shook his head.
"Whoever it is... they know I'm alive."
The battery died.
Silence.
A single message.
No explanation.
No signature.
Only another reason not to trust anyone.
Back at Rossi Manor...
Lorenzo Rossi stood before dozens of armed men wearing an expensive black overcoat that somehow remained spotless despite the storm.
The great hall smelled faintly of smoke and gunpowder.
Bodies had already been removed.
Blood had already been cleaned.
Only the shattered marble and bullet holes remained.
"Search teams?"
A captain lowered his head.
"No sign of Dominic."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
"The maid?"
"Also missing."
"What was her name?"
The captain checked a notebook.
"Sarah Jenkins."
Lorenzo repeated it once.
Quietly.
As though committing it to memory.
"A housekeeper carried my nephew out of a mansion filled with trained men."
No one answered.
"Find her."
His voice remained calm.
"If she helped Dominic escape..."
He paused.
"...then she knows too much."
Miles away...
Sarah searched the cabin for supplies.
One dusty cupboard.
Three cans of beans.
A rusty hatchet.
An old battery-powered radio.
She twisted the dial.
Static.
Then...
"...Authorities continue investigating the overnight explosion at the Rossi family estate. Officials report that businessman Dominic Rossi is believed to have died during what sources describe as a catastrophic gas leak..."
Sarah stared at the radio.
Explosion?
Gas leak?
She had heard automatic weapons.
Professional assassins.
None of it matched.
The report continued.
"...Family representative Lorenzo Rossi has assumed temporary leadership of Rossi Shipping Holdings while funeral arrangements are expected..."
Dominic reached over and switched the radio off.
"They buried me before they found my body."
Sarah looked at him.
"They're rewriting history."
"They're controlling it."
His face hardened.
"That means every television station, every politician, every police contact they own is already repeating the same story."
Sarah suddenly understood the size of the nightmare surrounding her.
If the world believed Dominic Rossi was dead...
Then anyone claiming otherwise would sound insane.
Hours later...
Dominic finally managed to stand.
Barely.
Sarah slipped underneath his arm before he could fall.
"You don't have to prove anything."
"I hate needing help."
"You'll hate internal bleeding more."
Despite himself, he chuckled.
"You always this bossy?"
"I was training to be a nurse."
"What happened?"
She hesitated.
"My mother got cancer."
Silence.
"I dropped out."
Another silence.
"She died six months later anyway."
Dominic looked at her differently after that.
Not like staff.
Not like someone invisible.
Like someone who understood loss.
"I never thanked you," he said quietly.
"You already did."
"No."
He met her eyes.
"You saved my life when everyone else ran."
Sarah looked away.
"I didn't save your life."
"Not yet."
That afternoon, the storm finally weakened.
Sunlight reflected off endless snow, making the forest almost painfully bright.
Sarah stepped outside to collect fresh snow for drinking water.
Halfway back to the cabin, she stopped.
There were footprints.
Fresh ones.
Not hers.
Not Dominic's.
Large boot prints leading straight toward the cabin door.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Someone had found them.
Inside, Dominic saw her expression and immediately reached for the old hunting rifle hanging above the fireplace.
It was ancient.
One shot.
Maybe.
Sarah whispered the words neither of them wanted to hear.
"We're not alone anymore."
A slow knock echoed through the cabin.
Three deliberate taps.
Then a woman's voice called from outside.
"Dominic..."
A pause.
"I know you're alive."
Sarah and Dominic exchanged a stunned look.
Neither recognized the voice.
Then the woman spoke again.
May you like
"If you don't open this door in the next thirty seconds..."
"...Lorenzo's men will kill all three of us."
