By Olivia Harper • January 26, 2026 • Share
The heater in my grandmother Dorothy’s house gave up before midnight. A little while later, the electricity followed. She was seventy-two, by herself, while a blizzard swallowed the entire town in white.
She had set a small pot of coffee on her old gas stove when the pounding began. Not a polite knock. A hard, heavy fist against the door that made the frame tremble.
Through the frosted glass she could make out silhouettes. Nine of them. Broad men in thick leather jackets crusted with ice, looking like winter had carved them from stone.
The tallest one called out calmly, saying their motorcycles had failed in the storm and they only needed shelter until the snowplows arrived. He promised there would be no trouble.
She hesitated, her hand resting on the deadbolt. Fear told her to keep it locked. But then she thought of her late husband, Mark. He had passed away five years earlier. He used to say that doing what’s right and doing what’s safe are rarely the same choice. So she unlocked the door.
The men entered quietly. They wiped their boots, gathered near the fireplace, and waited without touching anything. As the minutes passed, her fear softened into embarrassment. They were simply cold and stranded.
She poured coffee into her old mismatched mugs and handed the last one to their leader. He thanked her with a faint smile. As he lifted the cup, his jacket collar shifted. On his neck, just below his ear, was a faded tattoo. A spade. Inside it, a tiny number. The same mark Mark had carried on his wrist — from a card game he never explained, from a chapter of his life he kept sealed shut.
The mug slipped from her fingers and shattered on the stone floor. Coffee splashed like dark ink across the hearth.
The leader crouched quickly to gather the fragments, his large hands careful and steady. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked.
She could only stare at the tattoo. “My husband had that,” she whispered. The man froze. The room fell silent except for the wind outside and the crackling fire.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
