Chương 2
Mara moved to the kitchen counter. She pulled a canvas medical bag from beneath the sink and opened it.
“What are you doing?” Dante asked.
“Deciding whether you can move without collapsing.”
“I can move.”
“You couldn’t sit up without turning gray.”
“I’m Italian. Gray is one of our natural colors.”
Marco looked at the floor, but Mara caught the brief tightening at the corner of his mouth.
She set the bag on the coffee table and crouched beside Dante. Up close, fatigue had made his features look cut from old stone. The tattoos across his chest and arms were intricate black-and-gray patterns—saints, ships, names, dates, a cluster of olive branches around Luca’s initials. The bandage remained clean, but his skin was warm.
“When did you last take the pain medication?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“I needed to think.”
“You need to breathe without fainting.”
“I have never fainted.”
“Then this may be a meaningful morning for you.”
She shook two tablets into her palm and handed him water. Dante stared at them.
“They’re ibuprofen, not a coup attempt.”
He swallowed them.
Outside, the nearest line of SUVs began to move. One after another, they turned toward the county road, tires compressing fresh snow. Another line shifted onto the lake, spreading east and west in deliberate formation.
Marco touched the radio at his collar.
“They’re creating three departure patterns.”
“Rocco will follow all three,” Dante said.
“That’s the intention.”
Mara rose. “He doesn’t have to follow them. He can wait here.”
Marco’s eyes went to the window.
“Or,” she continued, “he can follow the blue light on Dante’s ring.”
Dante’s hand stilled.
She had noticed the light twice. The first time had been after Marco said Rocco had found them. The second had been when Dante asked how many people knew the location.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A secure authentication device.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It verifies my identity on Bellaro systems.”
“Does it transmit?”
“Only when activated.”
“You closed your hand around it.”
Dante said nothing.
Marco answered. “It has a distress function.”
Mara felt anger arrive with such clean simplicity that it steadied her.
“You called them here.”
“I called protection.”
“You called nearly three hundred vehicles to a wooden house beside a frozen lake.”
“I didn’t know how many of my people Rocco had turned.”
“So you summoned all of them and brought the ones he turned with them.”
Dante’s gaze remained on hers. “Yes.”
There was no defense in the word. That made it worse.
Mara walked to the mudroom and began pulling clothes from hooks. Not the bag Dante had ordered her to pack. She took Luca’s damp boots, her insulated coveralls, two pairs of wool gloves, and the keys to the old snow tractor in the equipment shed.
“We’re not using your vehicles,” she said.
Marco glanced toward the door. “The road is the safest route.”
“The road is the route everyone expects.”
“The lake is exposed.”
“The lake is six miles wide and covered in snow. You can see headlights, but headlights can’t see you through a whiteout.”
Dante’s eyes moved to the keys. “What vehicle?”
“My father’s old Bombardier tractor.”
“How fast?”
“Slow.”
“That isn’t useful.”
“It’s orange, loud, smells like diesel, and no sane person would choose it for an escape. That makes it the most useful thing on this property.”
Marco lifted his radio. “I can have men secure the shed.”
“No. Whoever took that picture already knows it’s there.”
“Then it may be disabled.”
“Possibly.”
“And your plan is to find out?”
“My plan is to stop standing in front of windows while people who lie to me debate which expensive car I should die in.”
Luca’s eyes widened.
Mara regretted the last three words immediately. She crouched beside him.
“No one is dying,” she said.
“You said—”
“I was angry. Adults say stupid things when they’re angry.”
“My dad does.”
Dante looked offended. “Rarely.”
Luca considered that and shook his head.
Mara helped him into his coat without removing the blanket. He refused to release the wolf, so she threaded one sleeve around the toy and pulled the zipper as high as it would go.
“Do you have snow pants?” she asked.
“At home.”
“Where’s home?”
Luca looked at Dante before answering. “A lot of places.”
Mara found a pair of old insulated bibs in a closet. They had belonged to her nephew and were too large, but she rolled the cuffs and tightened the straps. Luca stood patiently while she worked, his face grave.
Marco spoke quietly into his radio, ordering the western convoy to leave first, then the road units, then those positioned along the pines. He used no names. He did not raise his voice. Outside, the disciplined lines began to dissolve into competing streams of black metal.
Dante watched the movement through the lower corner of the window.
“Nico?” he asked.
“No response,” Marco said.
“Ben?”
“His vehicle is in the eastern group.”
“Tell them not to stop for anyone.”
Marco relayed the instruction.
Mara pulled on her boots. “Where does the eastern group go?”
“Marquette,” Dante said.
“Where are you supposed to go?”
“Marquette.”
“Then we’re going south.”
“There’s nothing south.”
“There’s an old fisheries station four miles down the lake. The state shut it ten years ago. I winterize it for the township because nobody else remembers where the pipes are.”
“It has communication?”
“A landline if the mice haven’t eaten it.”
Marco looked doubtful. “Rocco monitors traditional lines.”
“Rocco knows my address, my employment history, and probably what kind of toothpaste I buy. I’m running out of ways to surprise him.”
Dante swung his legs off the couch.
The movement went badly.
His right foot touched the floor, his shoulders tightened, and for one uncontrolled second his body folded around the bandage. Luca reached for him. Mara caught Dante beneath the arm before his weight could pull the boy from the couch.
May you like
Dante’s breath stopped against her cheek.
“Don’t,” he said.
