Chapter 3 - The Search for Ethan
The winter wind howled through the dense pine forest surrounding the Marino estate like a dying beast. Snow fell so thick it felt like walking through a blinding white curtain.
Dante led the search team himself.
He ignored Gabriel’s pleas to stay inside the command center while the security team searched the grounds. Dante didn't care about his own safety, his bespoke leather shoes ruined in ankle-deep snow, or the frost accumulating on his silver-streaked dark hair.
In his mind, he kept seeing Lucy’s tear-stained face and hearing her small, trembling voice: “Ethan ran.”
“Search the tree line near the old boathouse!” Dante shouted over the roar of the wind, his flashlight beam cutting through the swirling darkness. “Ethan! Ethan, can you hear me?!”
For forty-five grueling minutes, they pressed deeper into the woods along the jagged cliffs of the river. The temperature was plunging rapidly.
Suddenly, Gabriel stopped, holding up a hand. “Boss! Look!”
At the base of a massive oak tree lay a small, red mitten, half-buried in a snowdrift.
Dante dropped to his knees, picking up the small glove. It was damp, freezing, and stiff with frost.
Fresh foot tracks led down the steep, icy embankment toward the dilapidated nineteenth-century stone boathouse perched right at the edge of the rushing, dark water of the James River.
“Cover the perimeter!” Dante ordered his men. “No guns drawn unless I give the word! I don't want to scare the kid!”
Dante stepped carefully down the slippery rocks. The wooden door of the boathouse was jammed shut, held in place by a heavy rusted latch.
Dante slid his fingers beneath the latch and lifted it quietly. He pushed the heavy cypress door open.
Inside, the boathouse smelled of old cedar, damp river silt, and freezing air. The dark water sloshed rhythmically against the wooden pilings beneath the floorboards.
“Ethan?” Dante called out softly, his voice dropping its harshness, adopting a gentle, steady tone he hadn't used in years. “Ethan, it’s Dante Marino. Your sister Lucy is safe. She’s at the main house with Rosa.”
Silence.
Only the sound of the howling wind outside and the tapping of cold river water.
Dante stepped deeper into the dark shed, shining his flashlight under an old overturned wooden canoe.
There, wedged into a tiny, freezing crevice between two stacks of burlap sacks, was a small, shivering boy.
Ethan Carter was ten years old, curled into a tight ball, his face pale as chalk, his lips turning a terrifying shade of blue. He held a rusty iron boat hook in his small, trembling hands, pointed straight at Dante.
“Stay... stay back!” Ethan gasped, his voice raspy and hoarse from the freezing air. “Don't touch me!”
Dante immediately knelt in the snow and sawdust on the floor, setting his flashlights and his weapon far out of reach on a workbench.
“I’m not going to touch you, Ethan,” Dante said calmly, spreading his hands wide to show he was unarmed. “I’m Dante. The man who lives in the big house.”
Ethan’s tear-filled eyes widened through his frost-dusted eyelashes. “The... the tall man?”
“The tall man who never smiles,” Dante agreed gently, allowing a tiny, soft warmth to enter his eyes. “Lucy told me you sent her to find me.”
Ethan’s breath hitched, a fresh sob breaking through his shivering frame. “Is... is Lucy okay? Did the bad men get her?”
“Lucy is perfectly fine,” Dante assured him firmly. “She had a cup of warm milk, she’s wrapped in a velvet blanket on my sofa, and she’s holding your black chess piece.”
The rusty iron boat hook slipped from Ethan’s frozen fingers, clattering against the wooden floorboards.
The boy burst into heavy, racking sobs.
Dante didn't hesitate. He reached into the cramped space, wrapped his heavy trench coat around the shivering child, and lifted Ethan into his arms.
The boy was freezing, his body shaking uncontrollably against Dante’s chest. Ethan buried his face into the warm collar of Dante’s wool coat, clutching Dante’s suit lapels with tiny, numb fingers.
“They took my mama...” Ethan sobbed hysterically. “They came into the kitchen... Mama fought them... she screamed at me to hide Lucy... she dropped that chess piece and told me to give it to you if anything happened to her...”
Dante held the boy tighter, resting his chin on top of Ethan’s cold head as he walked out of the boathouse into the roaring storm.
“I know, son,” Dante murmured, his voice laced with absolute, lethal conviction. “I know. But you saved your sister tonight, Ethan. You were braver than any grown man I know.”
Gabriel met them at the top of the ridge, throwing a heavy thermal blanket over both Dante and the boy.
“Boss,” Gabriel whispered as they rushed back toward the mansion. “Who gave the order?”
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Dante looked down at the pale, exhausted boy falling asleep in his arms, safe at last from the freezing storm.
“Lorenzo Vance,” Dante said, his voice colder than the ice beneath his boots. “He thinks he can use a quiet maid and her innocent children to break me. He’s about to find out what happens when you wake up a monster.”
