Chapter 7 - A Mother’s Trail
The drive up the Canyon Boulevard toward the mountain town of Nederland was a journey into a freezing abyss. The snow fell in heavy, blinding sheets, the wind howling through the narrow granite crevices of the canyon.
The Mercedes sedan, equipped with heavy winter tires, fought against the slick mountain roads. Martin Pike navigated the treacherous curves with the practiced ease of a local, while Leonard sat in the back, checking the chamber of his custom semi-automatic pistol.
"The storm is getting worse, Boss," Martin said, squinting through the sweeping windshield wipers. "If we don't get there in thirty minutes, the road will be impassable."
"Then drive faster," Leonard said.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Mrs. Eleanor from the Mapleton Hill estate.
"Leonard," her quiet voice came through the encrypted line. "The little girl... Nella. She won't sleep. She’s sitting by the fireplace, holding a small wooden violin bridge. She says she’s waiting for her mother’s song."
Leonard looked out at the dark, snow-covered pines rushing past. "Tell her I am close, Eleanor. Keep her warm."
"Please be careful, Leonard," the old woman whispered before hanging up.
Leonard stared at the phone. For forty years, his life had been defined by calculations, leverage, and territory. He had never fought for someone who couldn't offer him anything in return. Yet, as he thought of the seven-year-old girl waiting by his fireplace, he realized that this was the only fight that had ever truly mattered.
"We're approaching the old meatpacking plant, Boss," Martin said, slowing the vehicle down.
May you like
Through the white haze of the blizzard, the rusted, corrugated metal structure of the abandoned facility loomed like a dormant beast against the dark mountainside. A single, battered black SUV was parked near the loading dock, its exhaust pipe coughing white steam into the freezing air.
Vance Miller was inside. And so was Viona.
