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Jonas clutched the knife as he trudged through the snow.
He liked the heft of it, the way his fingers felt as they grasped the blade’s handle.
It all felt so right.
Gave him so much power, so much protection.
To grip a weapon again.
He’d ditched Mia’s rattletrap of a car half a mile away, hidden at a mountain cabin that seemed abandoned. It would do. For now. He wouldn’t need to hide it for long.
Be cool, an inner voice warned.Don’t do anything rash. You don’t want to go back to Banhoff!
Twenty years of being locked up was enough, he reminded himself as he trudged, breaking a path in the snow. Ducking under low-hanging branches of the firs and cedars, he felt the cold slap of the wind against his face. It ruffled his hair, freezing the tops of his ears.
It felt good.
It felt like freedom.
And he didn’t want to lose that.
Even the ache in his ribs was worth it.
He stopped long enough to send up a quick prayer. He had turned to God at Banhoff. The chaplain had convinced him to look inside himself and find the good, give himself up to the Lord, and he had. He believed. He really did. He also knew that he was put on this earth by God to do what was right. His fans, they’d eaten that up, so he’d played to it.
What he hadn’t admitted was that sometimes he needed to be an avenging angel. To right old wrongs.
And so he plowed on, through the snow, numb to the cold, on angel wings.
He had unfinished business.
And he planned on taking care of it.
Tonight.
