I grabbed the tablet and checked the cameras. I only saw the one guy sneaking along the perimeter. I got my rifle from underthe table and checked the chamber. Years of muscle memory took over — load, check, move.
“You can’t go out there alone,” Gianina said, her voice almost pleading.
“I can and I will.”
Her hand caught my sleeve, small but firm. “Enzo—”
I looked at her then, really looked. Her eyes were fierce, her pulse quick in her throat. She had no idea how much harder she made this.
“I need you safe,” I said quietly. “That’s the only thing that matters right now.”
Her fingers slipped away. I didn’t wait for her to argue.
The wind hit like a fist when I opened the door. The snow was knee-deep in places, the kind that muffled everything except your own breathing. I moved low, careful; the way you do when you don’t want to leave tracks that lead straight back home.
The scout was maybe forty yards out, half-hidden behind a birch. He hadn’t spotted me yet, which would be a fatal mistake for him.
I took position behind a drift in the snow and raised the rifle.
I could tell by the way he held his weapon — too high and loose — that he wasn’t expecting a confrontation. Maybe he thought he wouldn’t find us in the storm. Maybe he thought he would catch a glimpse of us then just run back to his boss to let him know he’d found us.
He was wrong.
The scout shifted, turning toward the cabin, and that was enough.
One shot to the head and he dropped, disappearing from sight.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the snow falling down all around.
I stayed low for a while, watching for movement, waiting for another person. Nothing. Just the wind, carrying the faint smell of gunpowder and pine.
When I was sure, I dragged the body into the treeline and searched him. Other than his wallet and phone, I found a picture of Gianina.
He was a scout, just like I thought.
I left the body there. There was no way I could deal with it during the storm. My hands were already numb and I could barely see shit in the fading light.
I’d take care of it once the storm let up.
By the time I reached the porch, my coat was stiff with frost. Gianina was waiting at the door; a look of relief filled her eyes when I walked in. “Are you …okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Her eyes darted to the blood on my glove.
“Not mine,” I stated, moving through the cabin to check all the windows and doors. The place felt smaller than it had an hour ago. Too many angles, too few exits.
“Just one scout,” I said, setting the rifle down.
“Are you sure?” she asked quietly.
I locked eyes with her and nodded. “He had your picture on him.”
Her face paled. The way she looked at me — worried, searching — it hit somewhere I didn’t like being hit.
“He won’t be reporting back.”
“So what happens now?”
