She climbs in. I slide in next to her.
The Bronco roars out of the garage, bypassing the main driveway and heading for the service road that cuts through the dense forest behind the estate.
As we drive away, I look back at the house.
The Vane Estate. My ancestral home. My fortress. It stands gray and silent against the morning sky, its windows dark, its gates broken. It looks like a tomb.
I built my life around that house. I filled it with things to prove I wasn't my father. I filled it with power.
And now I am leaving it behind.
I feel a hand on my thigh.
I look down. Ivy’s hand is resting on my leg. Her fingers curl into the fabric of my pants.
I cover her hand with mine.
I have lost the house. I have lost the money.
But I have the girl.
And looking at the fierce set of her jaw as she stares out the window at the passing trees, I realize that Nikolai made a fatal calculation error.
He stripped me of my armor. He took away the distractions of being a CEO.
He didn't make me weaker.
He set me free.
"Luca," I say, my voice cutting through the rumble of the engine.
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Stop at the cache in White Plains. We need more than handguns."
"You thinking heavy?"
"I’m thinking we’re going to need C4."
Ivy turns to look at me. "C4? Plastic explosives?"
"Yes."
"What are we going to blow up?" she asks. There is no fear in her voice. Only a morbid curiosity.
I smile. It’s the smile of the Wolf who has tasted blood.
"Everything he loves," I say.
The drive is long.
Hours bleed into hours as we navigate backroads, avoiding toll booths and cameras. The landscape changes from the manicured lawns of the Hamptons to the grimy industrial sprawl of the outskirts, and finally to the rolling hills of Upstate New York.
Ivy doesn't complain. She eats the protein bar I give her. She drinks the lukewarm water. She watches the road.
She is adapting.
By the time we reach the Adirondacks, the sun is setting. The trees here are ancient, thick pines that block out the dying light. The air is colder, biting.
