Chapter 18 - The Long Drive Back
The blizzard had finally begun to taper off as Dante slid back behind the wheel of the SUV, though the wind still howled through the empty streets of Boston, sweeping drifts of powdery snow across the highway.
His knuckles were bruised and stained with dried blood, but his heart felt lighter than it had in years. The threat wasn't just neutralized; it had been utterly crushed. Julian Vance would spend the rest of his life licking his wounds in some dark corner of the country, knowing that he had dared to cross a line he could never uncross.
Dante pulled out his encrypted satellite phone and dialed a secure line.
"It's done," Dante said into the receiver.
"Status of the perimeter?" a voice answered on the other end.
"Clear. Vance won't be a problem anymore. Keep the guards at the New Hampshire lodge until dawn, then pull back."
"Understood, boss."
Dante hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, the powerful engine roaring to life as the vehicle surged northward toward the pine forests of New Hampshire.
The hours bled together as he drove through the silent, snow-choked wilderness. The radio played low, soft Christmas carols, a stark contrast to the violence of the night. For the first time in his life, Dante wasn't thinking about territories, syndicates, or ledgers. He was thinking about a little girl who loved painting, and a woman with green eyes who had taught a hardened criminal what it meant to truly live.
As the first faint streaks of pale pink and gold began to paint the eastern horizon, the familiar stone gates of the New Hampshire safehouse came into view.
The heavy iron gate swung open automatically as his headlights swept across the sensor. Dante pulled the SUV up to the front porch of the rustic lodge and cut the engine. The silence of the woods was absolute, broken only by the soft crunch of fresh snow beneath his boots as he stepped out into the crisp morning air.
May you like
He walked up the wooden steps and pushed the front door open.
***
