The Ice-Cold Empire

The heavy steel doors of the garage hissed open, admitting a blast of frigid, howling wind and blinding white snow. The Westchester winter had turned into a full-scale blizzard by noon, blanketing the sprawling estate in a shroud of white isolation.

Elena threw the Pelican case onto the passenger seat of the matte-black Audi SUV, her breath pluming in the freezing air. She climbed behind the wheel, her hands steady as she pressed the ignition button. The engine roared to life with a low, throaty purr, the dual exhausts vibrating against the concrete floor.

As she put the vehicle into drive, the garage intercom crackled to life with a sharp, electronic screech.

"Elena."

Dante’s voice, filtered through the office intercom system, echoed off the concrete walls. It was no longer flat. It carried a sharp, metallic edge of rising panic.

"Dante," she answered into the hands-free dash mic, keeping her eyes fixed on the heavy security gates ahead. "I hope your breakfast coffee was to your liking."

"Where are you?" The calm facade was entirely gone. In the background, the distant sound of shattered glass and shouting guards filtered through the transmission. Viktor had finally reported in. "What did you take from the third-floor vault?"

"Just my property, Dante," she said softly. "The things my father left behind to keep you alive. Turns out, protection works both ways. You forgot to protect yourself from the person sitting across from you every morning."

"Elena, listen to me very carefully," Dante’s voice rose, commanding, lethal, stripped of all pretense. "If you drive out of those gates, Russo’s men will hunt you down before you reach the bridge. The federal indictments are tied to those drives. Without my decryption keys, you won't survive forty-eight hours."

"Then it's a good thing I know how to disappear," Elena replied.

"Stop the car!" he roared, the sound of heavy footsteps slamming against the floorboards indicating he was sprinting toward the private elevator down to the garage. "Elena! Damn it, stop!"

She didn't stop.

She slammed her foot down on the accelerator. The heavy SUV surged forward, smashing through the automated security arm of the estate gates with a loud, crunching snap of splintered fiberglass and metal. The iron gates swung wide open into the swirling blizzard, welcoming her into the white abyss.

In the rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of the private elevator doors sliding open on the lower level. Dante Salvatore burst out into the garage, his suit jacket flying open, his hand reaching vainly toward a departing cloud of exhaust and snow.

For the first time in eleven months, Elena smiled. It was a cold, beautiful, merciless smile.