A Quiet Departure From the Shadows of a Chicago Empire
Finally, Luca turned down a hidden driveway that seemed to disappear into a wall of pine trees.
The SUV bounced over deep ruts in the frozen ground before coming to a stop.
A small, dark cabin stood in the clearing, its roof buried under a foot of snow.
“We walk from here,” Luca said, killing the engine.
The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the whistling wind.
I opened my door, and the freezing air took my breath away.
Luca helped me out, his arm supporting my waist as we trudged through the knee-deep snow toward the porch.
My boots sank deep with every step, and the cold seeped through my coat.
Luca reached into his pocket and pulled out a brass key, his fingers stiff from the cold.
He unlocked the heavy padlock on the front door, the metal clinking loudly.
The door swung open with a dry creak, revealing a dark, freezing interior.
It smelled of pine, dust, and old wool.
Luca shut the door behind us, locking it and sliding a heavy deadbolt into place.
We were in total darkness now.