Chapter 6 - THE TRAP IS SET
Three days later, Luca Rossi and two of his most trusted operatives were freezing their asses off in the backseat of a rented Ford Explorer parked half a mile down the logging road in Vermont. The snow had started falling early, dusting the pine canopy in a suffocating blanket of white.
"Are you sure about this, Luca?" one of the thugs muttered, blowing into his cupped hands. "The boss is losing his mind back in New York. If we mess this up—"
"We don't mess it up," Luca interrupted, his eyes fixed on a faint plume of gray smoke rising above the distant treeline. "She's up there. She’s got nowhere else to go. A woman like Vivien Cross—designer clothes, high-society gal—she won't survive a week out here in the freezing wilderness alone. She’s probably waiting for us to rescue her."
Luca adjusted the silencer on his Sig Sauer P226, checked the chamber, and shoved the pistol into his waistband. "Grab your gear. We walk the last half mile. No noise. Matteo wants her alive, but if she resists, we grab the case and drag her by her hair."
They moved through the dense brush like ghosts, trained professionals accustomed to hunting down disloyal lieutenants and rival syndicate runners. The cabin loomed into view through the falling snow, dark and seemingly quiet, save for the thin trail of smoke curling from the stone chimney.
Luca signaled his men to split up—one covering the back exit, the other flanking the side windows, while Luca took the front porch.
He climbed the wooden steps, wincing as a single board creaked beneath his heavy boot. He raised his hand, gripped the iron doorknob, and twisted. It gave way with a soft click. The door swung inward, revealing a dimly lit room warmed by a crackling fire.
And sitting at the wooden kitchen table, calmly sipping a cup of black coffee, was Vivien.
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She wasn't tied up. She wasn't crying. She was wearing a thick wool fisherman's sweater, her dark hair tied back in a neat braid, looking at the doorway with an expression of mild, almost bored expectation.
"Took you long enough, Luca," Vivien said smoothly, setting her ceramic mug down on the wood. "I was starting to think Matteo was losing his touch."
