Chapter 8 - The Line in the Snow
Outside on the freezing porch, Damian Moreland collapsed onto his knees in the deep snow.
The proud, terrifying mob boss who had ruled the Tri-State underworld with an iron fist sat shivering on the wooden steps of a small Maine cottage, his face wet with a mixture of melted snow and bitter tears.
Inside, Claire heard his heavy, ragged weeping through the heavy door.
She didn't lower the gun. She stood in the dim entryway, her heart hammering against her ribs, but her mind clear and absolute.
"Damian," Claire said softly, her voice carrying through the keyhole. "If you try to break this door, I will kill you. Not because I hate you, but because I will never let my son grow up in the dark world you live in."
Damian pressed his forehead against the cold wood of the door frame. "Claire... they're coming for me. The federal prosecutors signed the indictments this morning. The Philly families have put a contract on my head. My life is over."
Claire was quiet for a moment. She felt no triumph in his words. No joy in his downfall. Only a profound, heavy sadness for the man he could have been before ambition had hollowed out his soul.
"Then go face them, Damian," Claire said softly. "Face the grand jury. Go to prison. Serve your time and clean your hands. But do not bring your blood to this house."
Damian didn't answer for a long time. He sat in the snow, listening to the roaring wind, feeling the absolute, impenetrable wall she had built between his dark world and her light one.
Slowly, painfully, Damian pushed himself up from the snowy steps.
He stood on the porch, his body trembling with the bitter cold, his face pale and hollowed out.
He looked at the frosted glass window where he could see the vague, sharp outline of the woman he had lost—the woman who had proved stronger than his entire syndicate.
"What is his name?" Damian asked, his voice barely audible over the gale.
Claire paused. "Julian."
Damian swallowed hard, a tiny, sad smile touching his lips for a fraction of a second. "Julian... after your grandfather."
"Yes," she said.
Damian reached out, his fingertips brushing lightly against the frosted glass near where her face was positioned on the other side.
"Keep him safe, Claire," Damian whispered. "Keep him far away from men like me."
May you like
He turned, walked down the snowy steps, and stepped into the storm.
Claire watched through the glass as his tall figure walked slowly down the gravel driveway, disappearing into the white fog of the blizzard toward his waiting car.
