He swallowed hard, his throat moving.

For a second, the hard criminal boss disappeared, and I saw the boy from the old neighborhood who used to walk me home from school.

“I was trying to keep you clean,” he whispered.

“I didn’t want to be clean,” I said. “I wanted to be with you.”

The silence returned, but it was different now, lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from the small room.

Then, the wind outside seemed to drop for a single second.

In that brief quiet, a floorboard creaked.

It didn’t come from inside our room.

The sound came from the small covered porch just beyond the heavy front door.

Adrian instantly blew out the flame of the oil lantern, plunging the cabin into absolute darkness.

The only light was the pale, blue glow of the snow filtering through the frosty window.

He grabbed my hand, his grip tight and cold.

“Get behind the woodpile,” he breathed in my ear.

The doorknob began to turn, slowly, clicking as the old brass lock resisted.

A heavy shadow blocked the pale light from the window.