Chapter 6 - The Shadows in the Snow
Six months after the Christmas Eve miracle in Denver, my life was unrecognizable in the best possible way. I had kept my promise. I handed over the daily operations of Prescott Technologies to a trusted board of directors, locking my controlling shares into a bulletproof trust for Luke and Violet. I traded my tailored Italian suits and eighty-hour work weeks for flannel shirts, hiking boots, and a sprawling, custom-built log and glass estate nestled deep in the Rocky Mountains near Aspen.
Cassandra and I were getting married in exactly three days.
The estate was a fortress of domestic bliss. We had a massive stone fireplace, a chef's kitchen where Cassandra and I burned pancakes on Sunday mornings, and acres of private, snow-capped wilderness for the twins to explore.
It was a Tuesday afternoon. I was sitting on the floor of the living room, letting Violet put plastic tiaras in my hair while Luke ran a toy monster truck over my knee. Cassandra was curled up on the oversized leather sofa, reviewing flower arrangements for the ceremony on her tablet. The afternoon sun caught the massive, flawless diamond on her left ring finger, throwing tiny prisms of light across the hardwood floor.
I looked at her, my heart expanding with a profound, quiet peace that I had never found in a boardroom. "You know, we could just elope," I teased, adjusting a pink tiara on my forehead. "Fly to a beach. Drink out of coconuts. Let the florist keep the deposit."
Cassandra laughed, the sound bright and melodic. "Absolutely not, Damon Prescott. I have spent six months planning this wedding. We are having the white roses, we are having the string quartet, and you are wearing a tuxedo."
"Anything you want, Cass," I smiled, grabbing Luke and pulling him into a tickle monster attack that left the little boy shrieking with pure joy.
But peace, I was rapidly learning, is a fragile glass window just waiting for a rock.
Two hundred miles away in Denver, the trial of Richard Calder was dominating the financial news networks. Calder was locked in a federal holding cell, facing thirty years. But there was a loose end I had dangerously underestimated.
Marcus.
My former head of security, the man who had personally handed Cassandra the forged non-disclosure agreement and the fake severance check three years ago, had vanished the night Calder was arrested. He had drained his offshore accounts and slipped through the FBI’s fingers. I had assumed he fled the country.
I was dead wrong.
While I was laughing on the floor with my children, my new head of security, a former Navy SEAL named Thorne, knocked on the heavy oak door of the living room. His face was entirely devoid of emotion, which usually meant something was terribly wrong.
"Mr. Prescott," Thorne said, his voice a low, tight rumble. "I need you in the command center. Now."
I gently set Luke down and gave Cassandra a reassuring smile, though my instincts were instantly on high alert. I followed Thorne down the hall to the secure communications room.
"What is it?" I demanded.
May you like
Thorne brought up a high-definition satellite feed of the mountain roads leading to our private estate. "Perimeter sensors picked up a vehicle two miles out. It’s a stolen black SUV. But that’s not what concerns me." He tapped the keyboard, zooming in on a thermal image of the driver. "Facial recognition just pinged a ninety-eight percent match. It’s Marcus."
My blood ran completely cold. The monster who had stolen three years of my family's life wasn't running. He was coming right for us.
