Chapter 1 - The Boy Beneath the Blizzard
The dog found me before death did.
I had been buried beneath Appalachian snow long enough that I could no longer feel my hands.
My wrists were bound behind my back.
Tape sealed my mouth.
Snow pressed against my chest with every shallow breath.
For twenty-five years, men along the East Coast had called me the Reaper.
Dante Moretti.
A name people whispered.
A man who had survived bullets, betrayals, federal investigations, and wars that left better men underground.
Yet whoever had put me here understood something important.
Shooting me would leave evidence.
A body would create questions.
But a wealthy man disappearing during a West Virginia blizzard?
Nature would take the blame.
My empire would pass to my younger brother, Luca.
And the adviser who convinced me to make this trip alone would probably stand at my funeral pretending to mourn.
My eyes started closing.
Then I heard barking.
Once.
Twice.
Closer.
Something scratched violently above my face.
Light broke through the snow.
A golden retriever appeared.
Then a small gloved hand.
A boy dug furiously until my face was exposed.
He couldn't have been older than nine.
Curly brown hair escaped beneath his winter hat.
His eyes widened when he realized the thing beneath the snow was human.
“Oh my God!”
He tore the tape from my mouth.
Cold air burned my lungs.
“Mister?”
“Run.”
“What?”
“Get help.”
He looked at my restraints.
“I can't leave you.”
“You have to.”
The dog growled toward the trees.
That changed everything.
I heard nothing.
But animals hear danger before men do.
“What's your name?”
“Eli.”
“Eli, listen carefully. Leave the dog. Run home.”
“What about you?”
“I'll stay alive.”
It was a lie.
I wasn't sure I had twenty minutes.
But the boy nodded.
“Goliath, stay.”
Then he disappeared into the white.
The enormous retriever pressed himself against my chest.
Warmth.
For years I had paid men fortunes for loyalty.
Yet while I lay dying, my protector was a dog that didn't know my name.
Nearly an hour later, voices came through the storm.
Eli had returned with his grandfather and two rescuers.
They dug me out.
Someone cut my restraints.
The older man wrapped a blanket around me.
Then Goliath suddenly exploded into barking.
Everyone froze.
Beyond the rescuers, between two snow-covered trees, stood a man.
Dark clothing.
Motionless.
Watching.
The stranger disappeared.
“Who was that?” Eli's grandfather demanded.
I forced myself upright.
“Someone who doesn't want me leaving these woods.”
Then I saw it.
A tiny red dot moved across the snow.
Slowly.
Searching.
It passed over my coat.
Over the rescuer's boot.
Then stopped.
On Eli's blue parka.
My blood turned colder than the mountain.
“ELI, DOWN!”
I lunged.
May you like
Goliath leaped forward barking.
And somewhere beyond the trees, the man who had come to finish me realized he had just aimed at the wrong child.
