Chapter 26: Threads in the Snow
The snow was just like this when I saved his life. Heavy, endless, each flake catching the streetlight before falling to the ground, soft as ash. I had moved out of that apartment a year ago, after I found out he was the city’s mafia king. Thinking distance would protect me. Thinking anonymity would make me invisible.
But now he knows where I am.
And he can come at me at any time.
I pressed my palms to my temples, willing the thought away. Stop thinking about him. I had an exam coming up. That mattered. That was real. That was something I could control.
I shifted my gaze to my injured leg. The bandages were still there, but the angry swelling had gone down. I could even walk on it a little now, though each step reminded me of how fragile I still was.
The apartment was quiet except for the muffled hum of the heater. The smell of chamomile still lingered faintly from the tea I’d abandoned earlier. My textbooks sat in a neat stack on the table, pages bristling with sticky notes. I forced myself to reach for one, to open it, to drag my mind back to words and diagrams instead of blue eyes and the weight of his voice.
I traced a line of text with my finger but didn’t absorb any of it. My eyes kept flicking to the window. To the snow. To the dark.
A year.
I had built this fragile little life piece by piece, moving to a different neighborhood, changing my routine, cutting contact with anyone who could link me back to him.
And yet here I was, my phone cracked, his voice still finding me in the dark.
I closed the book and pushed it away. “Get it together, Isla,” I whispered to myself.
I stood carefully, testing my leg. It held my weight, but a dull ache pulsed upward. I limped to the kitchen for more tea, needing the warmth of it. The kettle hissed and clicked, steam rising in a thin silver ribbon. Outside, snowflakes drifted past my window in slow, hypnotic spirals.
For a moment, I almost believed I was safe.
Then, somewhere below my apartment, a car engine turned over. Low. Slow. The sound carried strangely through the snow.
I froze, mug halfway to my lips, listening.
The engine cut off.
Silence followed. Heavy. Watching.
I moved to the window, heart pounding, and peered through the curtain.
The street was empty except for snow. But the tire tracks leading to the curb were fresh.
I let the curtain fall back, pressing my back to the wall, mug trembling in my hand.
He wouldn’t come here. Not now. Not again.
But even as I told myself the lie, the hairs at the back of my neck rose, sharp as static.
\---
The next days bled together, pale and cold. Morning after morning, the sun rose into a white sky heavy with snow, its rays turning the drifts into molten silver before the clouds swallowed the light again. Valmont City looked like a painting behind frosted glass, soft, quiet, but hiding sharp edges beneath the powder.
I woke with the first light, my apartment still dim and smelling faintly of coffee grounds left in the filter from the night before. The heater hummed against the wall, a low vibration that settled in my bones. When I finally made it to the bathroom, I caught my reflection in the mirror and paused.
Emerald green eyes stared back at me, the one thing I’d inherited from my mother. They looked even brighter in the winter light leaking through the window, like pieces of sea glass. I raised a hand to my face, tracing the faint shadows beneath my eyes.
You look tired, I thought. You look like her.
I didn’t even know who my father was. The story changed depending on who told it, some said he’d died before I was born, others whispered it happened later, in an accident no one wanted to talk about. And my mother… she’d died the same day I graduated. The image of her empty seat at the ceremony had burned into my mind.
They’d said it was natural causes, but I’d never believed them. The only way to know the truth was to work in the same hospital she’d been taken to before she died. That had become my reason to push through medical school at that very same hospital, my anchor when everything else threatened to drag me under.
The exam was tomorrow. My last chance to stay on track.
I forced my gaze away from the mirror, grabbing a clean sweater from the hook. My injured leg throbbed as I shifted my weight. It was healing, I could walk on it now, but the ache reminded me how close I’d come to being swallowed by someone else’s world.
\---
At the same moment, across the city, snow hissed beneath the tires of a black car as it rolled to a stop outside the De Luca mansion.
Lorenzo stepped out first, the sound of the door clicking shut muffled by the thick snowfall. He was still in his winter coat, black wool lined with charcoal silk, and the flurry clung to his dark hair, melting as it touched his temples. His expression was unreadable, his movements precise, as if even the act of walking was a calculated choice.
Nico was already there, standing next to Ken at the edge of the driveway. His younger brother’s posture was as rigid as the wrought iron gates behind him, hands tucked into the pockets of his gray overcoat, his glasses reflecting the dull winter light.
“Hey, bro!” Ken called out, his grin too wide for the cold morning. His breath puffed in little clouds, but he pretended not to notice.
Lorenzo didn’t respond, just strode toward the mansion without looking at either of them. His shoes crunched in the snow.
“Why are you here, Ken?” His voice was low, almost bored, but there was steel under it.
“Oh, come on. Nico’s here, so I can stay… right?” Ken tried again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a restless kid.
No answer.
“You know you shouldn’t be going out alone,” Ken pressed. “Even if you can handle yourself…”
“Good thing you know I can handle myself,” Lorenzo cut him off, heading for the front steps.
“Yet you almost got yourself killed a year ago,” Nico said coldly, sliding his glasses off and folding them neatly. His tone held no heat, only ice.
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Lorenzo’s lips twitched into something almost like a smirk. “Stop following me around. Are you here to protect me because you couldn’t a year ago?”
The words hung in the frosty air like smoke. Nico’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he said at last. “I’m here to babysit my elder brother who acts so foolishly.”
“Hey, guys, why are you always cold to each other…” Ken tried to lighten the mood, reaching out to drape his hands over both of their shoulders.
“Get your hands off me,” Lorenzo snapped, brushing him off and dusting his coat.
“Get off,” Nico echoed, stepping back.
Ken threw his arms up. “Why are you both cold to me now?”
Lorenzo ignored him and started up the stairs. The heavy front doors loomed ahead, dark wood etched with De Luca crestwork. His gloved hand had just touched the handle when Nico’s voice sliced through the snow.
“Is that why you brought that girl?”
Lorenzo stopped. His back stayed turned, but the tension in his shoulders shifted.