Chapter 3 - The Frozen Sanctuary
The walk-in freezer was a silent, white world of hanging carcasses, crates of imported truffles, and a bone-chilling cold that instantly turned their breath into thick, white clouds.
Sadie moved quickly, her kitchen clogs navigating the icy floor with practiced ease. Behind her, Declan walked with a slow, heavy step, his leather shoes crunching softly on the thin layer of frost.
"Here," she said, pulling aside a massive, heavy curtain of plastic strips to reveal a rusty iron hatch set low into the brick wall. "It’s a coal chute from the twenties. It slides straight down into the furnace room of the Royal Theater. The building has been abandoned for three years, but the back exit to the subway is still unlocked."
Declan stopped beside her. The cold of the freezer seemed to make his scent even sharper—the vetiver, the gun oil, and the fresh, hot scent of blood from his hand.
"You're coming with me," he said.
Sadie laughed, a short, nervous sound that died instantly in the frigid air. "I have eighty soufflés in the oven, Declan. I'm not leaving my kitchen."
"Your kitchen is a crime scene, Sadie," he said, his hand reaching out to grab her shoulder. His grip was firm, unyielding. "My men just killed three Morello soldiers in your prep line. If you stay here, the police will arrest you as an accomplice, or the Morellos will find you and cut your throat to find out where I went. You chose a side the moment you grabbed my hand."
The truth of his words hit her like a physical blow. The safe, predictable world of her Michelin-starred hell was gone, replaced by the dark, cold reality of the streets.
"I don't have my knives," she whispered, her eyes darting to her empty hands.
May you like
Declan reached into his belt and pulled out a small, beautifully crafted Italian stiletto knife with a pearl handle. He pressed it into her hand, his warm fingers folding hers over the cold steel.
"You do now," he said. "Now move."
