He Cornered A Terrified Teen In The Snow, Then Recognized His Face

The Shadow of the Past

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the worst as Miller closed the distance between them. The imposing man reached out, his heavy hand gripping the collar of Logan’s red varsity jacket and pulling him forward. The other men surrounded them in a tight semi-circle, cutting off any hope of escape. Emma, watching helplessly from the end of the alley, tried to dial for help, but the extreme cold had drained her phone's battery to zero. She could only watch in silent horror.

Miller sneered, looking down at the trembling boy. "Your brother thought he could steal from us and just disappear," Miller growled, his voice low and menacing. "But since he’s gone, you’re going to help us find him. Or you’re going to pay his debt yourself."

Logan shook his head, tears streaming down his cold-reddened cheeks. "I don't know where he is! Please, I swear I don't know!" he sobbed, jerking back in fear. As he moved, the sudden tension on his collar snapped a thin silver chain around his neck. A heavy, tarnished silver locket tumbled out from beneath his shirt, catching the pale winter light.

Miller’s eyes fell upon the locket, and he froze instantly. His grip on Logan's jacket loosened. With a trembling hand, Miller reached out and picked up the silver piece. He turned it over to reveal a detailed engraving of a rising phoenix, worn smooth by years of touch. It was a highly unique, custom-made piece—one that Miller knew intimately.

"Where did you get this?" Miller demanded, his voice suddenly losing its gravelly edge, replaced by a strange, desperate urgency.

Logan gasped for air, terrified by the sudden shift in the older man's demeanor. "It was my mother's!" the boy cried out. "She gave it to me before she passed away last year. Her name was Sarah."