Page 45 of Dark Promise

“I’m going to check the perimeter,” I say, rising and dragging on my jeans.

When I step outside, the storm greets me with biting cold, the wind slapping my face as snow swirls in chaotic eddies. The earlier calm has vanished. The storm rages once more, a mirror to the chaos in my head.

The alarms I set earlier, small and discreet devices hidden among the trees, remain silent for now. Still, I check their perimeter, methodical and precise. Each device is a safeguard, asilent warning system that will give me precious seconds to act if anyone gets too close.

I’ve placed weapons in hidden locations around the cabin, concealed under fallen branches and brush. I’ve planted them at key points, each one prepped with a full magazine. If it comes to a fight, I won’t be wasting time reloading. I’ll move, strike, and disappear before they realize what’s happening. Hit them from different angles.

I’m about to head back inside when I hear it—a faint hum, low and steady, barely discernible over the howling wind. Motors. The sound carries through the storm, distant but growing closer. The motors rev aggressively, their cadence erratic, reckless. These men don’t care about being heard. They think they have the advantage. Vasiliev’s thugs. It has to be.

I drop to a crouch, my fingers tightening on my gun as I scan the distance. Through the swirling snow, faint lights flicker. Snowmobiles. Too bright, too exposed. These men are sloppy, arrogant. Exactly what I’d expect from Vasiliev’s crew.

I retreat toward the cabin, circling wide to avoid detection. The snow muffles my steps as I move with deliberate precision. The hum grows louder, grinding against my nerves like a warning bell. They’re coming fast.

But then, piercing through the chaos, I hear something else—a faint whistle. Sharp, deliberate. My body stills, instincts firing on all cylinders. The whistle repeats, low and controlled, cutting through the wind. A signal. And not from Vasiliev’s men. I lower my weapon slightly, tension easing.

Two figures emerge from the trees, stepping into view with purpose. Luca Romano, Leo’s right-hand man, and Cassio Russo, the youngest of the Russo brothers. Their postures radiate calm control, their movements silent despite the crunch of snow beneath their boots.

Luca is built like a fortress—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark eyes that miss nothing and dark hair cropped close to his head. He moves with an ease that belies his size, every step calculated. Cassio is all easygoing charm, the ends of his wavy blond hair poking out from beneath his woolen beanie. But the steel in his blue eyes says he’s not here to play.

“You’re late,” I say, my voice low but sharp. “You were supposed to be here yesterday.”

Luca smirks, his dark eyes narrowing. “Apparently, Mother Nature didn’t get the memo about your schedule.”

“Ever try parallel parking a snowmobile in a blizzard? It’s a goddamn spectator sport,” Cassio adds with a wry grin.

I stare at them. “Did Leo send reinforcements or clowns? Either way, try not to make me regret this.”

Cassio barks out a laugh.

Luca nods toward the cabin. “She’s inside?”

“For now,” I reply. I nod toward the direction of the approaching sound. “Your timing is perfect, actually. The Vasilievs are here—or will be soon.” I quickly fill them in on how the limo was hit and everything that went down after. The last I spoke with Leo was when I called him from the car to confirm I had Sabina and she was safe. I hadn’t been able to contact him since then, given that Vasiliev’s men shot my phone.

Cassio’s expression hardens, the easy smile on his lips vanishing. “Is my sister safe?”

“Safe as a bug in a rug,” I say.

Luca tips his head. “I think the expression issnugas a bug in a rug.”

I snarl at him. “No one gets close to her unless they want to dig their own grave.”

Cassio sends me a curious look and steps between us. “Does she know they’re coming?”

“No,” I answer. “And she doesn’t need to. She’ll stay safe if we do this right.”

Cassio’s quiet for a moment, then he asks, “Does she know you’re working with Leo?”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?” he asks. “You’ve kept her here for days, letting her think you fucking kidnapped her?”

“Ididkidnap her,” I point out, my tone calm, reasonable. “As to why I didn’t tell her I’m working with Leo…do you think she would have believed me?”

Cassio huffs a low laugh. “No. Definitely not.”

Luca crosses his arms, his massive frame blocking out the wind. “What’s the play?”

I nod toward the trees flanking the clearing. “Positions on either side. Stay low, stay quiet. When I engage, take out anyone who moves.”

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