Chapter 3 - The Threat at the Threshold
Darkness settled early over the Vermont mountains. By six in the evening, the wind was screaming through the pines, and three feet of fresh snow had trapped Erin and Lucy inside their modest, two-bedroom rental cottage. The house was drafty and old, but Erin had built a cheerful fire in the small hearth and made hot tomato soup for dinner.
Lucy sat cross-legged on the rug, brushing Captain the rabbit's worn felt ears. “Do you think Mr. Roman will come for Christmas dinner, Mom?”
Erin paused at the stove, stirring the soup. “Honey, Mr. Vescari is a very busy, very important man. He has a huge house and a big business to run. He just helped us with the library today.”
“He doesn't have anyone,” Lucy said simply, without looking up. “His eyes look like my room when the nightlight burns out.”
Erin closed her eyes, aching at her daughter's impossible intuition. Before she could answer, a loud, violent thump rattled the front door.
Lucy flinched, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“Erin! Open the damn door!” a coarse, slurred voice bellowed from the porch.
Erin’s blood ran ice-cold. She recognized that voice immediately. It was Travis Kline. And he sounded furious and completely intoxicated.
“Lucy, go to your bedroom right now and lock the door,” Erin commanded in a sharp whisper, her maternal instincts kicking in instantly. “Do not come out until I tell you to. Go!”
Lucy scrambled to her feet and darted down the hallway, the bedroom door clicking shut behind her. Erin grabbed a heavy cast-iron skillet from the kitchen counter and moved cautiously toward the entryway.
“Travis, go away! I'm calling the police!” Erin yelled through the heavy wooden door.
“Call whoever you want, bitch!” Travis spat, kicking the base of the door until the frame groaned. “You sicked that Italian psycho on me! Vescari cornered me at the taproom! His goons took my truck keys, dumped all the fuel back at my aunt’s place, and told me if I ever set foot in Pinehaven again, they’d bury me under the frozen lake! You ruined my life!”
“You starved and froze your own aunt!” Erin shouted back, her voice shaking despite herself. “Get off my property or I swear I'll—”
Suddenly, the front door burst open with a deafening crack of splintering pine. Travis stumbled into the entryway, smelling rank of cheap whiskey, sweat, and rage. His face was bruised, and snow clung to his disheveled jacket. In his right hand, he clutched a rusted hunting knife.
“You’re going to give me cash, Erin,” Travis snarled, his eyes bloodshot and crazed as he lunged forward. “I need five thousand dollars to leave the state tonight before Vescari’s men track me down. Give me your purse or I'll go into that bedroom and take the kid's jewelry!”
“Don't you dare touch her!” Erin screamed, swinging the heavy skillet with all her might.
Travis dodged clumsily, the pan striking his shoulder with a dull thud. Enraged, he raised his knife, grabbing Erin by the collar of her sweater and slamming her back against the hallway wall. The air left her lungs in a painful gasp. She clawed at his wrist, but his grip was ironclad.
“You think you're better than me?” Travis sneered, bringing the blade inches from her throat. “You're just a broke librarian raising a bastard child alone!”
“Let her go.”
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The voice didn't come from inside the house. It was quiet, venomous, and laced with absolute lethality.
Travis froze, his eyes widening in terror as a dark silhouette stepped silently through the ruined doorway from the snowy night outside. Roman Vescari stood in the threshold, snow dusting his black overcoat, his eyes burning with a terrifying, predatory calm.
