Chapter 4 - The Hunt in the Storm
Nathan slammed Marcus against the wall once more, knocking the breath from his lungs, before using a pair of heavy leather restraints from Thorne's medical kit to bind Marcus securely to the cast-iron support pillar of the conservatory. Marcus thrashed against the bonds, but the cold was rapidly leeching his strength.
Nathan rushed back to the lower medical bay. Rosa stood guard with an iron poker, relaxing only when she saw Nathan’s face. Inside, Lily was sitting up on the examination table, a warm cup of broth in her hands, while the two baby brothers slept peacefully under warming lamps.
"Lily," Nathan said gently, kneeling beside his young niece. "Your mother... where did she go after she gave you the sled?"
Lily’s green eyes filled with tears, but her voice was remarkably brave. "Mommy didn't go to the lake. She told the bad man she was going to the lake so he would go there, but she hid in the old boathouse at the edge of your property. She said... she said she would draw his men away if they followed us."
Nathan’s heart soared with a sudden flicker of hope. Sarah was on his property, less than half a mile away at the edge of the frozen river that bordered his land.
"Rosa, lock this door behind me," Nathan commanded. "The federal marshals will be here in twenty minutes. Keep the children warm."
Equipping himself with a heavy thermal jacket, high-powered flashlights, and an emergency medical kit, Nathan plunged back out into the fury of the blizzard. The wind roared like a wild beast, tearing at his clothes and reducing visibility to mere inches. The temperature had plunged even lower, making every breath burn in his chest.
He pushed through waist-deep snow drifts, using the line of pine trees to guide his path toward the boathouse. The storm raged around him, but Nathan’s mind was fixed entirely on his sister. Seven years of regret, seven years of bitter silence, drove him forward through the blinding whiteout.
As he approached the dark wooden structure of the boathouse near the river’s edge, he noticed freshly broken branches and heavy footprints partially filled with snow. Someone else was here.
Nathan clicked off his main flashlight, relying on a dim red filter to preserve his vision. He crept up to the side door of the wooden building. Inside, he heard a coarse voice cursing over the sound of the wind.
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"Come out, Sarah! Kane said you wouldn't get far in this cold. Make this easy on yourself!"
It was a second henchman Marcus had sent to secure the perimeter—a mercenary hired to make sure Sarah never made it out alive. Nathan ducked behind a stack of seasoned firewood as the man stepped out onto the boathouse deck, a flashlight in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other.
