CHAPTER 3: The Woman in the Snow
CHAPTER 3: The Woman in the Snow
Sarah's pulse hammered in her ears.
The knock came again.
Three slow taps.
No panic.
No desperation.
Whoever stood outside wasn't afraid.
Dominic raised the ancient hunting rifle, wincing as pain shot through his side.
Sarah whispered, "That thing probably hasn't been fired in twenty years."
"It only has to work once."
The woman's voice drifted through the wooden door.
"I can hear you moving."
A pause.
"You don't have much time."
Sarah stepped closer to the window and carefully lifted the edge of the frost-covered curtain.
At first she saw only white.
Then a figure.
A woman stood alone in the snow, bundled in a dark winter coat with a gray knit cap pulled low over her forehead. She held both hands where they could be seen.
No weapon.
No body armor.
No radio.
But something about the way she stood—balanced, alert, always watching the tree line—told Sarah she wasn't harmless.
Dominic squinted through the glass.
His face changed.
"I know her."
Sarah looked back.
"You do?"
"Maybe."
Maybe wasn't comforting.
The woman called again.
"My name is Elena Torres."
Nothing.
Then she added quietly,
"I worked for your father."
Dominic's grip tightened around the rifle.
"My father has been dead for fifteen years."
"No."
Her voice remained calm.
"He was murdered."
The cabin fell silent.
Sarah slowly turned toward Dominic.
His expression had become unreadable.
"You never told me that."
"I was told he died of a heart attack."
Outside, Elena shook her head.
"That's the story Lorenzo paid everyone to repeat."
Sarah felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
One lie.
Then another.
How many years had Lorenzo been rewriting history?
Dominic motioned for Sarah to stay behind him.
"If she comes inside and makes one wrong move..."
Sarah nodded.
He unlocked the door.
The wind burst into the cabin as Elena stepped inside, quickly pushing it shut behind her.
She immediately removed her gloves and slowly turned in a full circle.
"No weapons."
Dominic didn't lower the rifle.
"You have thirty seconds."
Elena looked directly at him.
"You've been dead for twelve hours."
"I've heard."
"The funeral is tomorrow."
Sarah blinked.
"So soon?"
"Lorenzo wants the burial before anyone asks questions."
Dominic laughed once.
Cold.
Humorless.
"I always knew my uncle moved quickly."
Elena reached into her coat.
Sarah instinctively grabbed the fireplace poker.
"Easy," Elena said.
She slowly produced a folded newspaper.
The front page showed a large photograph of Rossi Manor.
Beneath it was Dominic's smiling business portrait.
SHIPPING HEIR DOMINIC ROSSI KILLED IN TRAGIC ESTATE EXPLOSION
Sarah stared at the headline.
The article described Dominic as a respected businessman who had died protecting his family during a gas explosion.
Not one word about gunfire.
Not one mention of armed men.
The entire attack had disappeared overnight.
Dominic folded the newspaper without another glance.
"Media bought?"
Elena nodded.
"Most of it."
"Police?"
"Some."
"The governor?"
"I don't know."
Sarah suddenly realized how impossible their situation had become.
The truth wasn't merely hidden.
It had been replaced.
"Why are you helping us?" Sarah asked.
Elena answered without hesitation.
"Because I failed your father."
Dominic frowned.
She reached into another pocket and removed an old photograph sealed inside a plastic sleeve.
Three people stood beside a fishing boat.
A much younger Carmine Rossi.
A teenage Dominic.
And a smiling woman in a Coast Guard uniform.
Elena.
Dominic stared.
"I remember you."
"You used to steal sandwiches from the kitchen."
For the first time since Sarah had met him, Dominic smiled like the boy he had once been.
"You always caught me."
"I always let you keep them."
The warmth lasted only a moment.
Then Elena's expression hardened.
"Lorenzo didn't just attack the mansion."
She unfolded a detailed map of New York State across the wooden table.
Red circles covered the page.
"These are every safe house loyal to your father."
Sarah counted quickly.
Eight.
Every one had a large red X through it.
"They've all been compromised," Elena said.
"Every one?"
"Every one."
Dominic's face went pale.
"That means..."
"Your uncle has been planning this for years."
Before anyone could speak again—
A distant crack echoed through the forest.
Not thunder.
A rifle shot.
The cabin window exploded inward.
Glass showered across the room.
Sarah instinctively dropped to the floor.
Another shot splintered the wooden wall inches above Dominic's head.
"Sniper!" Elena shouted.
She threw herself behind the stone fireplace.
"They found us!"
Dominic fired the old hunting rifle toward the trees.
The weapon roared once.
Then jammed.
"Of course," he muttered bitterly.
Sarah crawled toward the shattered window.
Through the blowing snow she caught the briefest glimpse of movement.
Black uniforms.
At least six men.
Spreading out.
Surrounding the cabin.
Elena checked her pistol—one Sarah hadn't noticed hidden beneath her coat.
"They're closing in."
Dominic looked around the tiny room.
No back exit.
No basement.
No place left to run.
Sarah's breathing slowed.
Not from fear.
From focus.
Her eyes landed on the old wood-burning stove in the corner.
Then on the stacked kerosene cans beside it.
Finally, on the weathered propane tank outside the kitchen wall.
An idea formed.
Dangerous.
Desperate.
Possibly their only chance.
She looked at Dominic.
"I can get us out."
He followed her gaze.
Then his eyes widened.
"You want to blow up the cabin."
Sarah gave a single, steady nod.
"If Lorenzo wants everyone to believe you died in an explosion..."
May you like
She looked toward the advancing gunmen.
"...let's give him another one."
