Whiteout

I thought I found an abandoned sanctuary to hide from my past. I didn't know I was moving into a den of wolves. Fleeing the bloody coup that destroyed my family, I expected to freeze to death on the dark mountain ridges. Instead, through the blinding whiteout, I found an unlocked fortress hidden above the clouds. It was the perfect hiding place. No people. No violence. No mafia. Or so I thought. I am not alone in this house. I can feel their heavy gazes on me from the dark corners of the hallways. I wake up to find the fireplace roaring and a heavy woollen blanket draped over my bed by hands I never saw. Fresh meals appear on the counter. A different scent lingers in every room-wood smoke, rich tobacco, and sharp mint. There isn't just one ghost in the shadows. There are three. They are the Volkov brothers. Ruthless Russian Bratva princes who rule this frozen peak. They know exactly who I am. They know the Italian syndicates are hunting me. And they are playing a twisted, protective game with my sanity. My enemies are searching the valleys below, but the real danger is right here, waiting for the snow to melt. Because my invisible hosts have no intention of ever letting me leave. And the terrifying truth is... I don't know if I want to escape them.