Page 29 of Christmas at Wolf Creek
My grip tightens on the phone. “Which sister would that be?”
A low chuckle. “The one hiding in the mountains with Tomas’s granddaughter. The one who thinks she’s safe.”
Ice floods my veins. “What do you want?”
“To warn you,” the voice continues. “She is not what she seems. Ask her about St. Petersburg. Ask her what really happened the night she ran.”
The line goes dead before I can respond.
I stand frozen, phone still pressed to my ear, mind racing through implications. Ella’s paranoia suddenly seems less irrational. If someone from her past has found her—found all of us—the danger could be very real.
I dial Kane immediately, cursing when it goes straight to voicemail. Reception at the ranch is spotty at best, nonexistent at worst. I fire off a text instead: “Call ASAP. Important.”
Next, I call Connor, not caring that it’s the middle of the night. He answers on the fourth ring, voice thick with sleep.
“Wha—? Declan? It’s three in the morning.”
“Pack your bags,” I tell him, already moving to my own room to do the same. “We’re leaving for Alberta first thing. Something’s wrong.”
“What happened?” He sounds fully awake now, alert.
“I just got a call. Someone knows about Ella and Nora, knows where they are.” I grab my suitcase from the closet and throw in clothes without bothering to fold them. “I think they’re in danger.”
“Jesus,” Connor breathes. “I’ll wake Rory. We can be ready in twenty.”
“Good. I’ll book the jet.” I hang up and immediately dial our pilot, offering a substantial bonus for an immediate departure.
As I pack, I can’t help but think about the DNA results sitting in my desk drawer. Tomas may truly be dead, but his secrets are very much alive—and threatening everything we’ve only just begun to build.
Whatever Ella is running from, whatever happened in St. Petersburg, she’s not facing it alone anymore. The MacGallans may be a dysfunctional, fractured family, but we protect our own.
Even if we’re still learning what that means.
Chapter 14
Connor
My stomach lurches as the private jet touches down on the small airstrip outside Pinecrest. The urgency of Declan’s call has left me tense for the entire flight, my mind cycling through worst-case scenarios. Beside me, Rory’s face is drawn with worry, though he’s tried to mask it with jokes that fell increasingly flat as our journey progressed.
“Welcome to Alberta,” the pilot announces over the intercom. “Local time is 4:17 PM. The temperature is a balmy minus ten degrees Celsius.”
“Balmy,” Rory mutters, zipping his inadequate citycoat higher. “Only a Canadian would call that balmy.”
Declan is already unbuckling his seatbelt, phone in hand. “Kane’s meeting us. Says there’s no immediate danger that they can see, but he’s doubled security around the property.”
“Did you tell him about the call?” I ask, gathering my carry-on.
“No,” Declan shakes his head. “Not over the phone. Some things need to be said in person.”
The jet door opens, and a blast of frigid mountain air hits us. I squint against the brightness reflecting off snow-covered peaks, following Declan down the stairs to where Kane waits beside a black SUV, breath clouding around him.
“That was fast,” he says by way of greeting, helping load our bags into the trunk. “Thought you said three more days.”
“Plans changed,” Declan replies tersely. “How’s Ella?”
“Still at the lodge with Nora. They’ve been staying with us since the tree lighting.” Kane’s expression is guarded as he slides into the driver’s seat. “What’s going on, Dec? Your text sounded urgent.”
“I’ll explain when we get there,” Declan says, claiming the passenger seat while Rory and I take the back. “I want to tell everyone at once.”