Chapter 7 - The Last Stand at the Cabin
Dawn was just beginning to bleed over the jagged peaks of the Adirondacks when the bullet-riddled SUV bounced down a hidden gravel logging road and slid to a halt in front of a rustic, heavily fortified stone cabin.
The safehouse was invisible from the main road, surrounded by dense timber and equipped with motion-activated defensive turrets.
Roman killed the engine, immediately jumping out to secure the perimeter while Salvatore—who had suffered a minor shrapnel wound to his shoulder—helped Mara and Sophia out of the vehicle.
Sophia was shivering, clutching her favorite teddy bear, her eyes wide with shock. "Is daddy okay, Mara?"
"Your daddy is fine, sweetie," Mara reassured her, wrapping a woolen blanket around the child's shoulders as they hurried inside the heavy iron-reinforced oak doors of the cabin.
Inside, the safehouse was fully stocked with communications arrays, medical supplies, and provisions. Salvatore immediately went to work patching his shoulder and setting up the satellite monitors, while Roman swept the upper level to ensure the perimeter was clear.
Mara knelt by the stone fireplace, striking a match to get a fire going against the biting mountain chill. Her hands were shaking now that the adrenaline had worn off. Her wrists were bruised from the struggle on the highway, and her uniform was ruined, stained with soot and mud.
Roman walked down the wooden stairs, his submachine gun slung over his shoulder. He stopped a few feet away, watching her tend to the fire.
"You saved my life back there," Roman said quietly. "Again."
"I saved Sophia's life," Mara corrected without looking up. "You just happened to be in the vehicle."
Roman walked over, kneeling on the opposite side of the hearth. He reached out, gently taking her bruised wrist in his large, calloused hand to inspect the damage. His touch was surprisingly tender for a man whose hands had ended wars.
"You didn't have to follow me into a warzone, Mara," Roman murmured. "You could have stayed behind at the estate."
"And let you and your daughter get ambushed without someone checking food labels or patching bullet wounds?" Mara looked up, her dark eyes locking onto his obsidian gaze. "You might run an empire, Mr. Valente, but you're terrible at taking care of yourself."
A rare, genuine smile broke across Roman's face—a smile that made him look less like a feared mob boss and more like a man who was finally learning how to breathe again.
Before Roman could answer, Salvatore’s voice rang out sharply from the communications desk.
"Boss! We’ve got an incoming satellite ping. Viktor Vance just routed an unencrypted emergency broadcast through a cell tower three miles south of here. He knows where we are."
Roman stood up instantly, the softness vanishing from his eyes, replaced once more by the cold, calculating fury of a predator.
"How many men?" Roman asked.
"At least twenty," Salvatore replied, checking his rifle magazine. "And they brought heavy ordinance. They’re locking down the logging road right now."
Roman turned to Mara. "Get Sophia down into the reinforced storm cellar beneath the floorboards. Lock the hatch from the inside and do not open it for anyone except me or Salvatore."
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"And you?" Mara asked, her voice dropping.
"I'm going to finish this," Roman said, cocking his rifle. "Once and for all."
