Chapter 4 - The Cottage in the Woods
The rain grew heavier as midnight approached.
Inside the small, hidden cottage behind the greenhouse, Clara Bennett sat on the edge of a small twin bed, holding a sleeping Mia in her arms. The cottage smelled of dried lavender and old wood. Outside, the wind howled through the high oak trees lining the estate.
Clara stroked her daughter's soft red hair, her heart beating a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
She had grown up in a small town in upstate New York, raised by a single mother who worked two jobs to pay rent. When Clara found herself pregnant at twenty-six with a boyfriend who vanished the moment he saw the positive test, she had vowed to do whatever it took to give her child a stable, safe life.
Working for Lorenzo Duca had felt like a godsend—high pay, private room, and absolute security behind high stone walls.
Now, those same stone walls felt like a trap.
A quiet knock echoed against the wooden door.
Clara jumped, pulling Mia closer. "Who is it?" she called out, her voice trembling.
"It’s Lorenzo," a deep voice replied from the other side.
Clara stood up carefully, laying Mia down on the soft duvet before walking over to the door. She unlocked the heavy deadbolt and opened it a crack.
Lorenzo stood on the small porch, wearing a dark raincoat, water droplets glittering on his broad shoulders and dark hair. In his left hand, he carried a silver tray covered with a cloth, and in his right, a small plush teddy bear.
"May I come in?" he asked gently.
Clara opened the door wider. Lorenzo stepped inside, bringing with him the cold, crisp scent of rain and night air. He set the tray on the small wooden table—it contained warm soup, fresh bread, and a glass of milk for Mia.
He walked over to the bed, looking down at the sleeping girl, and gently laid the plush bear beside her hand.
"She’s a brave little girl," Lorenzo murmured, looking at Mia’s peaceful face.
"She doesn't know what she stumbled into," Clara said softly, stepping up beside him. "Mr. Duca... what happened with the men outside?"
"The traitor inside my house has been handled," Lorenzo said flatly. "And your daughter was right. Silas Kane is outside my wall. He plans to strike tomorrow evening."
Clara swallowed hard, looking at Lorenzo’s profile in the dim light of the cottage lamp. Up close, she could see the faint lines of exhaustion around his eyes, the subtle scar running along his jawline, and the overwhelming weight he carried on his shoulders.
"Why don't you call the police?" Clara asked naively.
Lorenzo let out a soft, humorless breath. "The police in this county take their orders from the people who pay them, Clara. In my world, we handle our own problems." He turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Tomorrow morning, I am sending you and Mia to a safe house in Rhode Island. You will have four guards, plenty of money, and absolute privacy."
"And you?" Clara asked, her voice dropping. "What happens to you tomorrow night?"
"I am going to take my eight o'clock walk," Lorenzo said, a cold, predatory smile finally touching his lips. "And when Silas Kane steps over my wall... he will find out that he was never the hunter. He was the bait."
Clara looked into his eyes and felt an unexpected pang of worry. She had known this man for three years as a distant, terrifying boss who barely acknowledged her presence. But tonight, she saw a man who had put his own life on the line to keep her and her daughter safe.
"Don't die, Mr. Duca," Clara said quietly, her hand touching his sleeve before she could stop herself. "Mia needs someone to buy her more rubber balls."
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Lorenzo looked down at her small, soap-roughened hand resting against his dark coat. For a second, the cold stone mask he wore slipped away entirely.
"Call me Lorenzo, Clara," he said softly, wrapping his fingers gently around hers. "And I promise you... I won't die tomorrow."
