Chapter 6 - The Storm Approaches
A massive Nor’easter was brewing off the coast. The sky above the fishing village turned a bruised, violent purple. Elena was walking home from the diner, holding a child’s hand in each of hers. Leo was babbling about a seagull he had seen, while Mia was quietly inspecting a shiny rock she’d found.
Elena felt the shift in the air before she saw anything. It was a primal instinct, the hair on her arms standing up. She looked down the cobblestone street. Through the thickening fog rolling off the harbor, a sleek, black SUV was parked near her small cottage. It didn’t belong here. Nothing that clean and expensive belonged in this town.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced her chest.
“Leo, Mia, listen to me,” she said, her voice tight, dropping to a crouch to look them in the eyes. “We’re going to play the quiet game. We’re going to turn around and walk very quickly to the church. Okay?”
Before she could stand, the door of the SUV opened.
A man stepped out into the freezing mist. He wore a heavy wool overcoat, his shoulders broad, his presence consuming the narrow street. Five years had aged him. There was silver at his temples, and lines of deep, permanent grief etched into his face. But the posture, the power, the undeniable gravity of Dominic Moretti remained unchanged.
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Elena froze. The breath left her lungs. There was nowhere to run. The street was empty, the storm driving everyone indoors.
Dominic didn’t rush toward her. He stood by the car, letting the rain soak his coat, his eyes locked on her face. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted downward to the two small faces peering at him from behind Elena’s legs.
