Chapter 5 - CORNERED IN THE SNOW
The door to Room 104 clicked open three inches, held back by the safety chain.
Vivien stood in the shadows, her revolver leveled directly at the gap. "Step back," she said, her voice steady as ice.
"Vivien. Put the gun down."
It wasn't one of Matteo’s thugs. It was Frank Vance—her father’s old associate, a retired forensic accountant who had spent thirty years hiding from the Mob in the backwoods of Vermont.
Vivien lowered the barrel slightly, though her stance didn't relax. "Frank? How did you find me?"
"You used the second emergency signal on the dead drop network we set up three years ago," Frank said, stepping inside as she unhooked the chain. He was in his late sixties, wrapped in a heavy wool coat, his face lined with dark circles. "You’re sloppy, kid. Or exhausted."
"I’m neither," Vivien said, closing and locking the door again. "I need clean identification documents and a route across the border into Canada that doesn't involve official checkpoints."
Frank looked at the bed, where the forty-seven pages were laid out under the dim lamp. He let out a long, low whistle. "So it’s true. The whole city is shaking, Vivien. Matteo’s put a two-million-dollar bounty on anyone who brings you back alive. And Don Camillo’s put three million on your head—dead or alive."
Vivien didn't flinch. "Camillo knows?"
"Camillo suspects," Frank corrected, pulling a flask from his pocket and taking a quick sip. "He knows Matteo lost something irreplaceable. He’s sent his top hitman, Marco Rossi, up north. Rossi’s checking every vehicle registered in the state over the last ten years. It’s only a matter of hours before they locate this Volvo."
Vivien went straight to the bed, gathered the papers, and stowed them safely inside the black case, snapping the combination lock shut. "Then I leave now."
"You can't," Frank said grimly. "Look out the window."
Vivien crept toward the edge of the yellowed curtains and looked outside.
The quiet, snow-covered parking lot was no longer empty. A heavy black SUV had just pulled up, blocking the exit. The headlights cut through the falling snow, illuminating the sleek, terrifying figure of Marco Rossi as he stepped out into the freezing air, a suppressed pistol held loosely at his side.
Behind him, two other men were fanning out, moving toward the motel rooms.
"They found the car," Vivien whispered, her heart accelerating, though her mind remained crystal clear. "Frank, take the back window. Go."
"I’m not leaving you, Viv—"
May you like
"You stay, you die," she cut him off, her voice laced with absolute authority. "They want me and the box. Go!"
Before Frank could argue, the door of Room 104 exploded inward under the force of a heavy kick, wood splintering into the air.
