Chapter 6 - THE CABIN IN THE MOUNTAINS
The helicopter ride to Vermont was a tense, silent nightmare.
The heavy thwack-thwack of the rotor blades pounded against my skull as we flew north over the darkened, endless expanse of the Green Mountains. Luca sat across from me in the dimly lit cabin, checking the magazine of his handgun for the tenth time.
He hadn’t spoken since we left the estate. He was coiled so tight I thought he might shatter.
Marco sat beside him, reviewing a satellite map on a glowing tablet.
“The cabin is completely isolated, Boss,” Marco reported over the headset comms. “Vincent wasn’t lying. It’s off the grid. No power lines, no cell towers. Just a single dirt road in and out. The guards shift every twelve hours.”
“How many guards?” Luca asked, his voice harsh.
“Usually four,” Marco replied. “But with the boy missing from the orphanage, Vincent might have doubled the detail anticipating Isabella would run there.”
“She wouldn't go back to the cabin,” I interjected, pressing the headset to my ear. “If she rescued her son from the orphanage, she’d run as far away from Vincent’s guards as possible.”
Luca looked at me, his dark eyes reflecting the green glow of the tablet.
“Where else would she go, Hannah?” Luca asked softly. “She has no money. No ID. No car. The cabin is the only place she knows. She’ll try to get back to the perimeter to steal a guard’s vehicle. It’s her only play.”
The helicopter banked sharply, dropping low over the tree line.
“We’re two miles out, Boss,” the pilot announced. “I can’t get any closer without alerting the guards.”
“Put us down in the clearing,” Luca ordered.
Ten minutes later, we were moving through the freezing, snow-dusted woods. The cold bit through my heavy winter coat. I stayed right behind Luca, my boots crunching softly on the frozen pine needles. Marco and four elite security men flanked us, moving like ghosts in the darkness.
Up ahead, a faint yellow light glowed through the trees.
The cabin.
It was a large, rustic structure surrounded by a high, chain-link fence. Two SUVs were parked in the dirt driveway.
Luca held up a fist. We all stopped.
Through the trees, we could see three armed guards pacing the perimeter of the fence. They were wearing heavy winter gear, their assault rifles slung casually over their shoulders. They were smoking cigarettes, entirely unaware that death was standing a hundred yards away.
“Marco,” Luca whispered into his radio. “Take the perimeter. Silent entry. No gunshots unless absolutely necessary.”
“Yes, Boss,” Marco replied.
Marco and his men vanished into the shadows.
Luca turned to me. “Stay behind this tree, Hannah. Do not move until I call for you.”
I nodded, my heart hammering violently in my chest.
I watched as Luca crept forward. He moved with terrifying grace for a man of his size. He approached the closest guard from behind, stepping out of the shadows like a demon.
Before the guard could even turn around, Luca clamped a massive hand over his mouth and drove the hilt of his combat knife viciously into the base of the man’s skull. The guard crumpled silently to the snow.
In the distance, I saw two more guards drop instantly as Marco’s men took them down with surgical precision.
Within ninety seconds, the perimeter was completely secure.
Luca waved me forward.
I ran across the frozen grass, my breath pluming in the freezing air. We reached the heavy oak door of the cabin.
Luca didn't knock. He raised his heavy boot and kicked the door directly beside the lock.
The wood splintered violently, the door crashing inward off its hinges.
Luca charged inside, his gun raised. “Clear!”
I followed him into the small living room. It was sparsely furnished—a couch, a wood stove burning in the corner, and a small television. But the room was empty.
“Isabella!” Luca roared, his voice echoing off the log walls. “Isabella, it’s me!”
Silence.
Marco emerged from a hallway. “Kitchen and bathroom clear, Boss. Nobody’s here.”
Luca’s face contorted in agony. He lowered his gun, running a hand through his dark hair. “She’s not here. We’re too late. She’s gone.”
I looked around the room, desperately searching for a clue.
My eyes landed on the small, wooden coffee table in front of the couch.
Resting in the center of the table was a child’s drawing.
I walked over and picked it up. It was drawn in bright, frantic crayons. A picture of a woman holding hands with a little boy. And in the sky above them was a single, crooked blue star.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, holding up the drawing.
Luca rushed over. He stared at the blue star. The exact same star Lily had painted on the back of Isabella’s locket.
“She was here,” Luca breathed, touching the crayon marks. “She brought him here.”
“But where did they go?” I asked.
Suddenly, a massive, deafening BOOM echoed through the forest, shaking the cabin windows.
It wasn't a gunshot. It was an explosion.
We rushed out the front door and looked down the mountain.
About a mile down the dirt road, a massive fireball was rising into the night sky, illuminating the trees in a brilliant, terrifying orange glow.
“A car bomb,” Marco said, his voice grim.
Luca stared at the flames, his face turning completely gray.
“No,” Luca whispered, dropping the child’s drawing into the snow. “No, no, no.”
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He broke into a dead sprint down the mountain, leaving us behind.
I ran after him, my lungs burning in the freezing air, praying to God that Isabella and her three-year-old son hadn’t just been burned alive on their way to freedom.
