Chapter 4 - The Trail in the Snow
Felix’s voice came back through the receiver, heavy with anxiety. “I tracked the taxi she took from the estate the night she left. The driver dropped her off at the South Station bus terminal at midnight during the peak of the storm.”
“Did she take a bus?” Damian asked, getting into his armored sedan and slamming the door.
“She bought a ticket for Portland, Maine, under her grandmother’s maiden name—Clara Miller,” Felix reported. “She checked into a small residential motel called the Osprey Inn outside Portland two days ago. But Damian... there’s a problem.”
Damian’s grip tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned bone white. “What problem?”
“Grant’s men have been monitoring her old family connections,” Felix said softly. “One of Grant’s private security contractors—a hitman named Vance—flagged that ticket purchase six hours ago. Vance left Boston forty minutes ago heading north toward Portland.”
Damian slammed his foot onto the accelerator, the powerful V8 engine screaming as the heavy sedan tore out of the port gates, launching onto the interstate toward Maine.
“How far ahead of me is Vance?” Damian demanded.
“At least thirty minutes,” Felix replied, his keyboard clicking frantically in the background. “I’m trying to hack the local dispatch for Vance’s vehicle, but he’s running dark. Damian, if Grant realizes you know the truth, he won't just try to kill Isabelle to cover his tracks—he’ll order a full hit on you the second you return to the city.”
“Let him try,” Damian growled, his eyes fixed on the rain-slick highway stretching into the dark northern woods. “Call Lucas Ford at the estate. Tell him to mobilize my personal guards—only the men who served with my father. Tell them Grant Doyle is a traitor to the family.”
“Lucas is still recovering from his gunshot wound, boss,” Felix reminded him.
“Lucas will crawl out of his hospital bed with a rifle if I tell him Grant tried to murder Isabelle,” Damian countered coldly. “Just make the call.”
As the miles bled away into the dark night, snow began to mix with the icy rain, coating the windshield in slush. Damian drove with a ferocious, terrifying speed, passing trucks and weaving through traffic like a man possessed. His mind was tormented by memories of the night he threw her out. He remembered the faint tremble in her hands as she closed the file. He remembered her standing at the door, her eyes exhausted, telling him: I hope the people you chose over me are worth what they just cost you.
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She had known. Even then, when he was tearing her life apart, she had known that he was falling into a trap set by his own brothers. She hadn't stayed to fight because she realized he had already surrendered his judgment to suspicion.
“I’m coming, Isabelle,” Damian whispered into the dark, empty cabin of the car, staring into the blinding flurry of white snow ahead. “Hold on. Please... just hold on.”
