Chapter 8 - Shadows on the Lake
Ronan’s head snapped up from the journal. "Your apartment? The one on Birch Street?"
"Yes," Sadie said, panic breaking through her steel facade. "They were looking for leverage. They were looking for—"
She choked on the words. She couldn't say Poppy’s name. Even now, with Julian’s journal open between them, Sadie did not know if Ronan would view Julian’s daughter as an heir to protect or a vulnerability to exploit. The Cain family was built on ruthlessness, and Ronan was the deadliest of them all.
"Looking for what, Sadie?" Ronan asked, stepping closer, his imposing frame blocking the moonlight. "What is in that tenement that Silas thinks he can use against me?"
"Proof," Sadie lied smoothly, forcing her voice into absolute neutrality. "Julian’s letters to me. Marriage certificates. Anything that could tie me to the estate. If Silas proved Julian was married, he could claim Julian’s estate had competing heirs, paralyzing your board votes."
Ronan studied her face, his gaze searching every twitch of her brow, every tremor in her jaw. He was a master interrogator, a man who had broken seasoned capos in subterranean basements.
"Vance!" Ronan barked without turning around.
The heavy front door swung open instantly. Vance, the scarred enforcer who had driven Sadie across town earlier, stepped onto the porch. His hand hovered casually near the lapel of his tailored wool coat where a concealed firearm rested.
"Sir?"
"Get Victor and three perimeter guards," Ronan ordered, his voice cold as a winter grave. "Sweep the access road. Silas knows we brought mother north. If his scouts were sniffing around Birch Street, they have ears in Beacon Staffing."
"Understood," Vance said, turning on his heel.
"Wait," Ronan added, his eyes still pinned to Sadie. "Check the Cadillac. Scrape the wheel wells. Run an RF sweep across the undercarriage. If there’s a magnetic transmitter on that vehicle from Miss Cole’s trip to the lower East Side, bring it to me."
Sadie’s stomach plummeted. *The car.* When Vance had parked on Birch Street, had someone tagged them? Had Silas followed Vance back to Raven Hill, and then followed the convoy to the Adirondacks?
Before Vance could acknowledge the command, a soft, dry tap sounded against the glass of the master suite window overlooking the porch.
Both Sadie and Ronan turned.
Inside the dimly lit room, Eleanor Cain stood behind the glass. She was not in her wheelchair. She stood erect, draped in her black cashmere shawl, leaning heavily against the window frame. Her silver hair fell over her shoulders, her pale face illuminated by the bedside lamp.
With agonizing precision, Eleanor lifted her left hand.
Her fingers formed a rapid, rhythmic series of motions against the pane:
*He is already here.*
Ronan’s eyes tracked his mother’s hands, but he could only interpret basic gestures. He looked back at Sadie. "What did she say?"
"She said Silas is already here," Sadie translated, her heart hammering against her ribs like a captive bird.
A sharp, muffled *crack* echoed across the glassy surface of the dark lake.
May you like
Fifty yards away, near the tree line by the private boathouse, a perimeter floodlight exploded in a shower of sparks. Darkness swallowed the shore.
"Inside!" Ronan roared, grabbing Sadie by the forearm and hauling her through the heavy cedar doorway just as a high-caliber round splintered the timber porch post where her head had been resting seconds earlier.
