Chapter 7 - The Mountain Road
The storm had cleared the sky, leaving the stars sharp and cold against the black velvet of the Vermont night. The snow on Route 7 was frozen into a sheet of solid glass, the trees along the shoulder looking like crystal statues under the glare of the civic’s headlights.
Elena was driving, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were yellow. Serena sat in the back, her body leaning over Nico’s car seat, her arms holding a heavy winter blanket over his shoulders to keep the chill from the broken heater away from his skin.
Behind them, a quarter-mile down the road, the headlights of two large black SUVs cut through the mountain fog. They were gaining fast, their heavy four-wheel-drive engines chewing through the snow drifts that the small civic struggled to clear.
"They're going to ram us, Elena!" Serena shouted, her eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.
"Not while I’m breathing," Elena hissed, throwing the car into third gear as they hit the base of the mountain pass.
Suddenly, a third pair of headlights appeared from a side road, a massive black Ram pickup truck roaring out from the pine trees, its heavy steel bumper clipping the lead Romano SUV and sending it spinning wildly into a snowdrift where it flipped onto its side with a shower of glass and sparks.
The truck didn't stop. It accelerated, pulling alongside the civic. The window rolled down, revealing Lucian’s face, pale and grim under the dashboard light. He had a heavy tactical rifle resting against the passenger seat.
"Elena! Pull over at the scenic overlook!" Lucian shouted through the wind. "The road ahead is blocked by a drift! You won't make the crest!"
"If we stop, we’re dead, Lucian!" Elena yelled back.
"Trust me!" he roared. "Just once, Elena! Pull over!"
Elena looked at Serena in the mirror. Serena nodded, her face white but her eyes resolute. "Do it, Elena."
The civic slid into the gravel turnout of the New Hebrides Scenic Overlook, its tires spinning uselessly against the ice before coming to a halt against a low stone wall that separated the road from a three-hundred-foot drop into the pine valley below.
The second Romano SUV pulled in behind them, blocking the exit. Four men in long leather coats stepped out, their weapons drawn, their faces covered by dark woolen ski masks.
Lucian jumped from his truck before it had even stopped rolling, his rifle discharging three times into the air with a deafening crack that echoed through the mountain silence. "Down!" he shouted to the women.
Serena threw herself over Nico’s car seat, her body absorbing the sound of the gunfire that erupted between the truck and the SUV. The mountain air was filled with the sharp, metallic smell of cordite and the shattering of safety glass.
One of the Romano men lunged for the passenger side of the civic, his hand reaching for the door handle where Serena sat.
Before his fingers could touch the metal, Lucian was there. He didn't use his rifle; he dropped it, his massive, scarred hands grabbing the man by the throat and slamming him against the hood of the car with a force that dented the steel.
"You don't touch her," Lucian hissed, his voice a low, primal growl that sounded like a beast protecting its den. He drove his fist into the man's temple, sending him collapsing onto the ice without a sound.
The remaining two Romano guards turned their weapons toward Lucian, but before they could fire, the sound of multiple police sirens echoed from the north side of the pass. A convoy of state trooper vehicles tore through the snow, their red and blue lights flashing wildly against the pine trees.
Marco had called the local state police from New York, using an anonymous tip about a terrorist cell moving weapons across the border—a lie efficient enough to bring forty heavily armed troopers to the mountain within ten minutes.
The Romano men dropped their weapons, their hands rising above their heads as the troopers flooded the overlook with commands to stay on the ground.
Lucian didn't look at the police. He didn't look at the weapons pointed at his own chest. He walked over to the back door of the civic, pulled it open, and reached inside.
Serena looked up at him through the smoke and light, her breathing ragged, her face wet with sweat.
May you like
Lucian didn't ask this time. He reached into the car, his large arms lifting both Serena and Nico out of the back seat and pulling them into a tight, crushing embrace against his chest.
"I've got you," he whispered into her hair, his body shaking with a vulnerability she had never seen from him in seven years of marriage. "I've got you both. It's over."
