Chapter 7 - The Trap SpringsThe engine roar grew deafening as a black armored Toyota Land Cruiser smashed through the pine thicket at the edge of the cabin’s clearing, its high-beam headlights blindingly bright against the falling snow.
The passenger door swung open, and Dario Falcone stepped out into the knee-deep drift. He wasn't wearing a suit today; he wore tactical gear, a heavy submachine gun slung across his chest, and that same crooked, arrogant smile smeared across his face.
"Nico!" Dario’s voice echoed through the freezing trees, amplified by a megaphone. "Come out, little brother! Dad sends his regards!"
Inside the cabin, Nico moved with cold, mechanical precision. He checked the magazine of the hunting rifle, slung a bandolier of ammunition over his shoulder, and looked down at Titan. The massive mastiff was already on its feet, shaking off the blanket, its golden eyes locked on the front door with a low, menacing growl rumbling deep in its chest.
"Stay here with Sarah," Nico told Maya, his voice absolute.
"Like hell I am," Maya said, racking the slide of a second hunting rifle she had pulled from the rack. "I'm not letting you die in my grandfather's cabin."
Nico didn't argue. There wasn't time.
He kicked the heavy oak front door wide open and stepped out onto the porch, the freezing wind instantly tearing at his unbuttoned flannel shirt. He stood in the amber glow of the cabin's porch light, the rifle held loosely in his right hand.
Dario stopped ten yards away, lowering his megaphone. He looked at Nico with a mixture of amusement and genuine disgust.
"Look at you," Dario laughed, shaking his head. "Living in a freezing shack in the middle of nowhere, playing nurse to a mangy dog. You had an empire, Nico. You had everything. And you threw it all away for a stray."
"I threw away a cage," Nico said, his voice cutting through the wind like a razor. "And you’re standing in my graveyard, Dario."
Dario’s smile vanished. He raised his submachine gun. "End of the line, brother. Dad said bring you back in pieces if you gave us trouble."
Dario pulled the trigger—and the gun didn't fire.
A sharp, metallic click echoed across the clearing. Dario stared down at the weapon in confusion, pressing the trigger again. Nothing.
From the second-story window of the cabin, Sarah Calloway lowered her vintage Remington, blowing a wisp of smoke from the barrel. She had spent the last two minutes using a specialized long-range magnetic disruptor she had salvaged from an old medical rig to scramble the firing pins of the tactical gear.
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Before Dario could react, Titan leaped off the porch like a black lightning bolt, hitting Dario square in the chest and sending him crashing backward into the snowbank.
Nico closed the distance in two seconds, standing over his brother, the barrel of his rifle pointed squarely between Dario’s eyes.
