Chapter 1 - The Cold Truth in an Empty House
Agnes pulled her thick wool coat tighter around her shivering frame, her breath misting in the freezing air of her own living room. The silence in the drafty farmhouse was deafening, broken only by the bitter December wind rattling the loose windowpanes. Erin stepped closer to the elderly woman, gently placing a gloved hand on her trembling shoulder.
“Agnes, what did Travis do?” Erin asked, her voice tight with concern and mounting dread.
Agnes looked away, shame clouding her faded eyes as she stared at the cracked linoleum floor. “He needed money again. Said he was in trouble with some people from Burlington. I told him my pension check had already gone toward my winter heating oil, but he didn't care. He found the delivery slip on the counter and threatened the oil delivery driver outside, making him siphon the fuel into his own truck before speeding off. He left me with barely ten gallons to survive the week.”
Erin gasped, fury burning hot in her chest. Travis was infamous around Pinehaven for his petty schemes, but stealing his seventy-two-year-old aunt’s winter heat in sub-zero Vermont weather crossed into pure cruelty. Before Erin could offer to call the county sheriff, she felt a sudden drop in the room’s atmosphere.
Roman Vescari hadn’t spoken a single word. He stood near the entrance, his broad shoulders casting a massive, imposing shadow against the hallway. The subtle amusement that had softened his stern face minutes earlier was entirely gone. His dark eyes were cold, calculating, and dangerously still. To Erin, he looked less like an awkward library volunteer and far more like the ruthless underworld kingpin people whispered about in low, fearful tones.
Roman walked calmly over to the ancient cast-iron radiator and placed a bare hand on the frigid metal. Without turning his head, he asked in a low, level voice, “Does Travis drive an older green Dodge pickup with a rusted tailgate?”
Agnes blinked in surprise, nodding slowly. “Yes… how did you know that?”
“I notice things,” Roman answered quietly. He pulled his smartphone from his tailored coat pocket, tapped a single speed-dial contact, and held the phone to his ear. He didn’t raise his voice, but the cold authority in his tone made the hairs on Erin's arms stand up. “Marco. I need twenty tons of seasoned oak and a five-hundred-gallon heating oil top-off delivered to 44 Old Mill Road within two hours. Yes, right now. Don't let the weather slow you down. And find out where Travis Kline is spending his afternoon. Don't touch him yet. Just tell me where he is.”
Roman hung up and tucked the phone away, his gaze softening as he looked back at the frail woman. “Mrs. Kline, sit by the electric space heater in the kitchen for a little while. The house will be warm before nightfall.”
Erin stared at him, caught between overwhelming relief for Agnes and a deep, visceral terror of the power this man wielded with a simple phone call. Who gave orders like that on Christmas Eve eve? What world did Roman Vescari truly belong to?
“Mr. Vescari,” Erin whispered as they stepped out onto the snowy porch, the wind whipping her hair across her face. “You can't just… take the law into your own hands. Travis is family to her, even if he's terrible.”
May you like
Roman turned to face her, towering over her on the steps. “Laws take weeks to fill a furnace, Erin. Snow falls in minutes. If we leave her here without heat, she freezes before morning. There is right, and there is wrong. I don't care about the rest.”
Erin swallowed hard. For years, she had relied only on herself, learning that trusting others was a recipe for heartbreak. Yet standing in the swirling snow beside this feared, enigmatic titan, she felt an unsettling sensation she hadn't known in years: protection. But as Roman opened the passenger door of his black SUV for her, she couldn't shake the creeping dread that by letting him into their world, she was playing with a fire that could easily burn them both to ashes.
