Chapter 2 - THE ICE AND THE ASH

The emergency light above them hummed, a sickly blue hue that did nothing to warm the freezing steel of the walk-in cooler.

Sophie couldn’t stop shaking. The heavy thud of Alessio’s heart hammered against her chest, a steady, terrifying rhythm that grounded her in the nightmare. Beyond the foot-thick steel door, a muffled, roaring sound vibrated through the floorboards. The kitchen was entirely consumed by a firestorm.

"Get off me," Sophie choked out, her voice barely a whisper through her chattering teeth.

Alessio didn’t move immediately. His dark eyes scanned her face, tracing the flour dusting her cheek and the fierce, absolute terror in her eyes. Slowly, he shifted his weight, rolling off her onto the grated floor. The sheer size of him in the cramped space was suffocating.

He didn't panic. He sat up, pulled the ruined, unlit cigar from his mouth, and tossed it aside.

"You tackled a loaded gun, baker," Alessio said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He unbuttoned his charcoal waistcoat, shrugging it off. "If my thumb had slipped an inch, we’d both be vapor on the walls right now."

"You were about to ignite a gas leak!" Sophie fired back, pushing herself into a sitting position, her breath forming white clouds in the negative-ten-degree air. "Someone sheared the valves and locked me in! I was trying to stop you!"

Alessio stopped moving. The predatory stillness returned.

"Someone locked you in?" he repeated, his tone dropping an octave.

"The double doors to the dining hall," Sophie said, hugging her knees to her chest as the biting cold began to numb her fingers. "They were deadbolted from the outside."

Alessio’s jaw tightened. He stood up, towering in the small space, and placed his thick, warm waistcoat over Sophie’s trembling shoulders. The scent of expensive cologne, tobacco, and danger enveloped her.

"I came through the mahogany service door," Alessio murmured, stepping toward the glowing red rim of the heavy steel door. "It’s on an electronic timed lock. It shut behind me. But the dining hall doors are manual. They require a master key."

Sophie’s blood ran colder than the freezer. "You think someone in your house tried to kill you?"

"I think someone tried to kill you," Alessio corrected quietly, looking down at her. "My routine is strict. I never enter the kitchens at night. Tonight was an anomaly because a meeting ended early. The assassin locked the main doors, opened the gas, and left you to suffocate. I just happened to walk into your tomb."

A reversal slammed into Sophie’s mind, completely shattering her reality. Her? Why would the mafia want a pastry chef dead?

"That makes no sense," Sophie argued, her lips turning blue. "I'm nobody. I bake cakes. The only person who hates me is my ex-husband, David, and he’s an investment banker, not a hitman!"

Alessio’s eyes darkened at the name. He stepped back from the door, feeling the ambient temperature dropping rapidly as the freezer's compressor kicked into overdrive to fight the heat radiating from the fire outside.

"We have about twenty minutes before hypothermia stops your heart," Alessio said, ignoring her denial. He knelt in front of her, grabbing her freezing hands and rubbing them between his large, calloused palms. "Talk to me, Sophie. Keep your brain awake. Tell me about the banker."

"He’s… he’s a monster," Sophie stammered, the warmth of Alessio’s hands sending a strange, shocking jolt through her system. "He’s suing me for full custody of my daughter, Mia. He has all the money, all the power. This cake… this commission was my retainer for a ruthless lawyer to fight him."

Alessio’s expression hardened into something lethal. He hated men who leveraged power against mothers. "How much was the retainer?"

"Twenty thousand," she whispered.

"If we survive this," Alessio said, his gaze piercing right through her, "I’ll give you a hundred thousand. And I’ll make sure your ex-husband never breathes in your direction again."

Sophie stared at him, stunned by the absolute certainty in his voice.

Suddenly, a loud, mechanical CLANG echoed through the freezer. The automatic fire suppression sprinklers in the kitchen had finally triggered, dropping the temperature outside the door.

Alessio stood up, grabbing a heavy frozen leg of lamb from a top shelf. With brutal, calculated force, he smashed it against the emergency release latch of the door. The frozen metal shrieked, then snapped.

He kicked the door open.

Thick, black smoke billowed into the freezer, followed by the sickening hiss of extinguishing foam. The kitchen was a charred, dripping wasteland.

Alessio grabbed Sophie’s hand, pulling her out of the freezer. "Stay low. Breathe through your shirt."

They navigated the smoking wreckage, the expensive appliances melted into twisted slag. As they reached the dining hall doors, Sophie stumbled over something heavy in the dark.

Alessio shined his phone flashlight down.

It was a man in a black tactical suit, his neck snapped. But that wasn't what made Sophie scream.

Clutched in the dead assassin's hand was a silver money clip. Sophie recognized the intricate engraving instantly. It was David’s.

"Oh my God," Sophie gasped, backing away. "David sent him."

Alessio knelt, pulling a burner phone from the dead man’s pocket. He lit up the screen. The last sent message read: The baker is dead. Proceed with the package.