Chapter 20 - The Christmas Eve Fire
|
Sokolov picked up the heavy lockbox, signaling to his men.
"Leave him," Sokolov ordered, gesturing to Trevor’s unconscious, bleeding body on the floor. "He is a coward. Let the cold claim him."
The heavily armed men filed out of the study, their boots crunching on the snow-covered floors. The massive SUVs roared to life outside, backing out of the driveway and disappearing into the howling, white blindness of the Christmas Eve blizzard.
I stood alone in the quiet, freezing mansion.
I looked down at Trevor. His chest was rising and falling shallowly. He would survive the blow to the head, but without a car or a phone, stranded in an abandoned estate in a blizzard, his survival was entirely in my hands.
I walked over to the grand fireplace. I struck a long match, tossing it onto the dry, rotting logs stacked on the hearth. The fire caught quickly, casting a warm, flickering orange glow across the dusty room.
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. I had a signal. I could call an ambulance. I could save the man who had let my babies die to protect his wealth.
I looked at the fire, listening to the wind scream against the windows.
My sons would never see a Christmas morning. They would never open presents, never see the snow fall, never grow up to be men. And the people responsible for their deaths were finally paying the ultimate price. Victoria was waiting in a cold cell for an assassin in the dark, and Trevor was bleeding on the floor of the empire he loved more than his own children.
I put my phone back into my pocket.
May you like
I walked out of the study, stepping over my ex-husband, and walked out into the storm. I started my car, turning the heater on full blast, and drove away from the Whitmore legacy forever, leaving Trevor to the mercy of the winter night.
The monsters had created a victim. But the victim had burned down their entire world.
