THE BLOOD AND THE FROST

The silence of the East Wing was deceptive. To the untrained ear, the Valente estate in the mid-afternoon was a peaceful, quiet sanctuary. But I had worked here long enough to know the rhythm of the house. I knew that at exactly 3:15 PM, the shift changed for the interior guards. I knew that the sprawling marble corridors amplified sound, meaning I had to walk on the extreme edges of the rugs to muffle my footsteps.

I stood by the heavy oak door of my "cell," pressing my ear against the wood. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs, beating a frantic, terrified rhythm. In my right hand, I clutched the silver key Adrian had given me; in my left, the small, flat cloning device. The secure earpiece was tucked deep inside my ear, hidden by my hair.

"Elena," Adrian’s voice crackled softly in my ear. He was miles away, sitting in an armored car outside the hospital, but he sounded like he was standing right beside me. "Karen just passed the second-floor landing. She’s heading to the kitchens. You have exactly thirty minutes before she heads back. The guards are swapping out. Go now."

I took a deep breath, inserted the key, and turned it. The deadbolt slid back with a soft, metallic snick that sounded as loud as a gunshot in the quiet hallway. I pushed the door open, slipped out, and locked it behind me.

The corridor was empty. The sunlight streaming through the massive bay windows felt entirely out of place against the dark, treacherous reality of my mission. I moved quickly, abandoning the demure, shuffling walk of a maid and adopting a swift, silent glide. I knew exactly where the blind spots were. Five steps past the Byzantine tapestry, duck under the archway, pause for the panning camera at the corner.

It took me three terrifying minutes to reach the staff wing where Karen's quarters were located.

Her door was locked, but the staff wing used older, standard-issue locks. I pulled a bobby pin from my hair, a trick I'd learned from an old boyfriend who had spent more time in juvenile detention than high school. My hands were shaking so badly I dropped the pin twice, cursing silently.

"Breathe, Elena," Adrian’s voice commanded softly through the earpiece. "You control your fear. It doesn't control you."

I squeezed my eyes shut, forced a slow exhale, and tried again. Click. The lock gave way. I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.

Karen’s room was a study in obsessive neatness. Everything was perfectly aligned—the bedspread without a single wrinkle, the shoes lined up with military precision. It made my skin crawl. It was the room of a psychopath who could drop a baby into a freezing dumpster and calmly go make a cup of tea.

"I'm in," I whispered.

"Find the device. Tear the place apart if you have to, but put it back exactly how you found it," Adrian instructed.

I started with the obvious places: under the mattress, inside the pillowcases, the bottom of the laundry hamper. Nothing. I moved to her dresser, carefully lifting stacks of folded clothes. My eyes darted around the room. Where would a meticulous, paranoid woman hide a burner phone?

I looked at the heavy, ornate mirror hanging above her vanity. The frame was thick, carved oak. I ran my fingers along the back edge. There, tucked against the wall with a strip of double-sided tape, was a small, black smartphone.

"I found it," I breathed, pulling it free.

"Plug the cloner into the charging port. It will take three minutes to download the encrypted data," Adrian said.

I attached the flat device. A progress bar illuminated on the tiny screen. 10%... 20%...

"Elena, we have a problem," Adrian’s voice suddenly turned sharp, the calm facade shattering. "Dante just entered the house. He didn't go to his meeting. He’s heading up the main stairs. He's looking for Karen."

My blood ran cold. "Where is she?"

"She's already on her way back up. They are going to intercept each other in the hallway right outside her room in less than two minutes. How far along is the download?"

I stared at the screen in horror. "Sixty percent."

"Abort. Pull the plug and get out of there now. Hide in the linen closet down the hall."

"No," I whispered fiercely. "If I don't get the whole drive, we can't prove Dante is communicating with the Falcone family. I'm staying."

"Damn it, Elena, this isn't a negotiation! Dante will kill you if he finds you in there!" Adrian roared in my ear, genuine panic bleeding into his tone.

"Eighty percent," I muttered, my eyes locked on the door. I could hear heavy, purposeful footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor outside.

"Karen," Dante’s voice rumbled from the hallway, muffled but terrifyingly close.

"Mr. Moretti," Karen replied. I could hear the surprise in her voice. "I thought you were in the city."

"Plans changed. Get inside. We need to talk about our... guest."

The doorknob began to turn.

"Ninety-five percent," I prayed, yanking the phone off the cloner just as the progress bar hit 100%. I slapped the phone back onto the double-sided tape behind the mirror.

The door clicked open.

I didn't have time to think. I threw myself backward, sliding frantically under the massive, heavy oak bed just as the door swung wide open.

Heavy leather shoes stepped into the room, followed by Karen’s sensible flats. Dante locked the door behind them. I was trapped. Lying flat on my stomach beneath the bed, my face pressed into the dusty carpet, I held my breath until my lungs burned. I clutched the cloning device to my chest, praying the tiny glowing screen wouldn't illuminate the darkness under the bed.

"Is it done?" Dante demanded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. He was pacing, his shoes stopping inches from my face. I could see the polished black leather, smelled the expensive cologne and the faint, metallic scent of gun oil.

"The hospital transfer for the sister was intercepted just like you ordered," Karen said, her voice steady. "Dr. Aris made sure she was rerouted to the Falcone warehouse, not the Valente clinic. Adrian thinks she's safe. He's completely blind."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. They had Lucia. My beautiful, fragile sister was in the hands of the mafia, rotting in a damp warehouse with a failing heart. Hot tears of absolute, murderous fury pricked my eyes.

"Good," Dante grunted. "Adrian is getting desperate. He brought the maid back here because he thinks he can beat a confession out of her. He's losing his mind. By tomorrow night, the Falcones will move on the docks. Adrian will be forced to respond, and when he does, he won't have any backup. I'll make sure of it."

"And the maid?" Karen asked coldly.

"I'll handle her tonight," Dante said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "She's a loose end. A dead maid in a locked room looks like suicide. The guilt of killing the boss's baby finally got to her. It ties everything up in a neat little bow."

He turned and walked toward the door. "Be ready to pack your bags, Karen. Tomorrow, I become the King of Chicago, and you get your payout."

The door opened and closed. Karen remained in the room for a agonizing ten minutes, humming softly as she rearranged her perfectly folded clothes. Finally, she left, locking the door behind her.

I crawled out from under the bed, gasping for air, trembling with a mixture of terror and unadulterated rage.

"Elena," Adrian’s voice crackled, sounding incredibly tense. "Are you alive?"

"They have her, Adrian," I sobbed quietly into the microphone, gripping the cloning device. "They intercepted the ambulance. They have Lucia. And Dante is coming to kill me tonight."