The wooden floorboards of my secluded cabin vibrated beneath the heavy weight of combat boots and tactical gear. Out on the snow-covered ridge, four hundred and twenty matte-black SUVs idled in silent formation, their exhaust plumes rising into the predawn sky like column fires.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT!

A wall of high-caliber lead tore into the snowbank, shredding the pine trees into splintered matches and spraying dirt and rock across the cliffside.

"DOWN!" Dante roared, throwing his body over Luca and me as the snow burst around us like mini landmines.

We were entirely pinned. The helicopter rotated slowly, its guns carving a circle of destruction around our position, locking us on a narrowing ledge overlooking the frozen lake below.

"We're dead!" I screamed over the roaring engines, snow filling my eyes and mouth. "We have no heavy weapons!"

"Not yet," Dante gritted out, reaching into his tactical pouch and pulling out a heavy, high-frequency satellite transceiver. He slammed a red button on the side.

"What is that?!" I demanded.

"The real command unit," Dante yelled back, a dark, murderous grin breaking across his bloody face. "The four hundred SUVs in the valley weren't my army, Clara. They were just the distraction."

Suddenly, the ice on the massive lake below began to vibrate.

A low, guttural roar echoed from the eastern horizon—a sound so massive it shook the very snow off the pine trees around us.

I looked down at the vast expanse of Lake Superior.

Breaking through the thick treeline on the opposite side of the frozen lake came a sight that defied all sanity.

It wasn't just vehicles. It was an armada.

Fifty massive, armored amphibious troop carriers, flanked by three heavy assault hovercrafts, roared across the white ice at eighty miles per hour. Flying low to the water behind them were four unmarked black attack helicopters, their rocket pods fully loaded and armed.

Dante hadn't called a local security team. He had summoned his entire international syndicate network.

"Rocco thought he bought the whole family," Dante shouted into his satellite headset. "He forgot who built this empire!"

The four incoming black helicopters opened fire simultaneously.

Eight air-to-air homing missiles streaked through the freezing sky, trailing dense white smoke behind them.

Rocco’s pilot saw the incoming fire and desperately tried to bank the helicopter hard to the left, dropping thermal flares into the air.

BOOM! BOOM!

Two of the homing missiles bypassed the flares, slamming directly into the tail rotor of Rocco’s attack chopper.

A massive explosion ripped through the sky. The helicopter spun out of control, trailing black smoke and fire as it plummeted toward the ice below, crashing into a pine-covered island three miles away with a thunderous detonation.

"Did... did we kill him?" I gasped, staring at the distant plume of black smoke.

"Rocco has nine lives," Dante said coldly, picking up his rifle from the snow. "He survived that crash. And I’m going to end this personally."

The massive amphibious hovercrafts glided smoothly onto the shore below our cliff, their heavy ramps dropping with a loud hydraulic hiss. Hundreds of soldiers in black tactical gear surged onto the beach, securing a defensive perimeter.

An officer ran up the cliff side toward us, dropping to one knee before Dante.

"Boss!" the officer reported, hand on his chest. "The primary fleet has secured the perimeter. Rocco’s mercenary forces in the valley are surrendering or fleeing. But satellite reconnaissance shows a group of survivors escaping the crash site on snowmobiles heading north toward the Canadian border."

Dante looked down at Luca, who was trembling from cold and exhaustion, then turned his gaze back to me.

"Take my son," Dante said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it before. "My heavy convoy will take you both to a secure safehouse in Toronto. You'll be safe there, Clara. Your debt is paid."

I looked at him, feeling a strange, hollow ache in my chest. "And where are you going?"

Dante checked the magazine on his weapon, his dark eyes glowing with lethal intent.

"To hunt my brother down," Dante replied quietly. "And cremate what's left of him."

I stepped up to him, grabbing the collar of his tactical vest. "You can barely stand! You need blood transfusions and antibiotic IVs! If you go out into that wilderness alone, your body will give out in an hour!"

"Then I have an hour to finish this," Dante said, staring down at my hand on his chest.

"No," I declared, my voice firm as granite. "I came this far. I saved your life three times today. I am not letting you throw it away on a suicide revenge mission."

I turned to the officer. "Get me a field surgical kit, two bags of O-negative blood, and a high-speed snowmobile. I'm going with him."