Page 36 of Christmas at Wolf Creek

“And go where?” Wren challenges gently. “Keep running forever? That’s not a life, Ella, for you or for Nora.”

She’s right, of course. I’m tired of running, tired of looking over my shoulder. Tired of denying Nora the stability and connections every child deserves.

“We need a plan,” I concede finally. “If it is him—if Mikhail is alive and has found us—we need to be prepared.”

“First, we need confirmation,” Declan says, slippingeasily into strategist mode. “I have contacts who can look into the yacht explosion, see if there was ever a body recovered.”

“And we increase security here,” Kane adds. “No one gets within a mile of this place without us knowing about it.”

“What about Nora?” I ask the question that matters most. “She can’t know any of this. I won’t have her afraid in her own home.”

“She won’t be,” Kori promises. “As far as she’s concerned, this is still just Christmas with her new family.”

I nod, gratitude and exhaustion washing over me in equal measure. “There’s more I should tell you,” I admit. “About St. Petersburg. About what really happened. But not tonight. I can’t... not tonight.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Declan says, understanding in his eyes. “We’ll be here.”

As the others begin discussing security measures and investigation tactics, I find myself staring at the Christmas tree, at the small star ornament Nora and I made during our first holiday in hiding. It glitters in the firelight, beautiful and fragile, like the life we’ve built here.

If Mikhail has found us, then our lives are in danger. But for the first time, I’m not facing the threat alone. I have a family now—stubborn, complicated, determined people with MacGallan blood in their veins and steel in their spines.

Maybe, just maybe, that will be enough.

Chapter 17

Ella

The conversation shifts to security protocols and investigation strategies, voices blending into a steady hum that washes over me. I’m physically and emotionally drained, the weight of revealed secrets leaving me hollow.

“Ella?” Lana’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “We should all get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day.”

I nod, grateful for the reprieve. “You’re right. Thank you all for... understanding. For not judging.”

“Family doesn’t judge,”Rory says simply. “Well, they do, but they love you anyway.”

This pulls a reluctant smile from me. “Goodnight, then.”

As I climb the stairs toward my room, my mind races with emergency plans, escape routes, all the old patterns I’ve relied on for eight years. But when I peek in on Nora, sleeping peacefully with her new puzzle box on the nightstand, something in me rebels against those patterns.

She deserves a Christmas—a real one, with family and traditions and joy unmarred by fear.

I crawl into bed beside her, careful not to wake her, and make a decision. For the next few days, at least until we know more, I will give her the Christmas I never had as a child. The one Tomas stole from me with isolation and secrecy. Whatever storm is coming, it can wait until after the holidays.

∞∞∞

Morning arrives with a fresh blanket of snow and the delicious aroma of coffee and cinnamon rolls wafting up the stairs. I blink awake to find Nora already gone from our shared bed, her puzzle box missing from the nightstand. Voices and laughter float up from below—normal, happy sounds that make last night’s conversation seem almost dreamlike.

I dress quickly in jeans and a soft green sweater, pulling my hair into a loose braid. In the mirror, I look ordinary. A mother. A sister. Not someone with deadly secrets and a past that threatens everyone she loves.

Downstairs, I find a scene so wholesome it makes my throat tighten. Nora sits cross-legged on the floor near the Christmas tree, her tongue caught between her teeth in concentration as she works on Rory’s puzzle box. Kat and Mia are sprawled on the couch in matching flannel pajamas, arguing good-naturedly about a Christmas movie playing on the television. From the kitchen comes the clatter of dishes and Kane’s deep laugh responding to something Kori has said.

“Mom!” Nora spots me and holds up the puzzle box triumphantly. “I got it open! Look what was inside!”

I cross to her, kneeling to examine her treasure—a tiny silver charm shaped like a star, similar to our homemade ornament on the tree. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Uncle Rory says it’s a wishing star,” she explains, eyes wide with wonder. “You hold it tight and make a wish and then wear it to keep the wish safe.”

I glance up to find Rory watching us from the doorway, coffee mug in hand. He winks at me, and I mouth a silent “thank you.”