Page 123 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

Until movement.

A flurry of wind whispering across his skin.

And a growl ripped through the corridor. Elemental. A snarl so deep it crawled up from hell. The weight on Aaron suddenly vanished. The cord slackened. And he collapsed to the cold tile, sucking air like a newborn. Gasping, hacking, lungs screaming for oxygen. His chest heaved as he rolled onto his side and blinked through the blur.

Lucky.

The lurcher had bolted from the cage and sunk her teeth into Jonathon’s arm, deep and furious, blood splashing across the floor in vivid arcs. Jonathon thrashed, tried to shake her loose, but Lucky held tight. Growling, snarling, every inch of her vengeance in fur and muscle.

Jonathon tumbled into the open penand Aaron dragged himself upright, coughing, ribs burning. He reached for Lucky, wrapped a shaking arm around her chest, and hauled her back with everything he had left. Then, with a guttural cry, he shoved Jonathon deeper into the pen and yanked Lucky out.

SLAM.

The gate crashed shut. The lock clicked. Buzzed. Secured.

Jonathon lunged. Bloodied. Wild-eyed. He grabbed at the bars, pawed for the lock, but it was done. Aaron stumbled back, clutching Lucky to his chest, the dog’s limbs dangling from his arms, his heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else out.

Everything… except,“Last Christmas…”Playing faintly from the radio in the corridor. Skipping slightly, warped from a bad connection, as if mocking the carnage with lullaby sweetness.

Aaron slid down the wall, exhausted, splaying his legs out, staring at Jonathon with Lucky curled into him, trembling. He couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. The sound of the bars rattling was almost… soothing. Rhythmic. Familiar. And he closed his eyes, mouthing the words along with George Michael under his breath, half a laugh, half a sob. That maladaptive, dissociative corner of his mind decided he’d just lostWhamageddon.

Jonathon crouched at the back of the kennel, trembling, breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. An animal cornered in the dark. His tears came fast, unfiltered, breaking through whatever performance had held him together. Then, in a sudden frenzy, he clawed at his own throat, trying to choke himself, to become the final offering. An end. A penance. But his body betrayed him. His grip faltered. He slumped forward, thudding his head once… twice… against the wall, and mumbling through cracked lips, “Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy.”

And Aaron sat there, frozen, memory dragging him under like a ripcurrent.

He’d never believed in Santa. Hadn’t been given the chance.

Christmas didn’t exist in the Howell house. Not in the way it had for other kids. No lights. No magic. No gifts. He hadn’t even known what Christmaswasuntil after. Until the police, the foster homes, the questions. By then, the damage was done. The lie had already calcified.

Santa hadn’t brought him anything.

And now?

Now that lie had teeth.

And it was sitting in front of him. Barefoot, tear-streaked, behind bars. Aaron felt something twist hard inside him. Because the lie didn’t live in fairy tales anymore. It breathed. It broke. And it bled.

He wasn’t sure if it was irony or not.

But the distant sound of sirens made him leave that thought there. Along with the pounding of boots. Doors crashing open. Then his own saviour, ragged with fear, calling his name. His real name. “Aaron!”

He forced his eyes open.

“Baby…” Kenny dropped to his knees, checking Aaron’s throat, brushing sweat-damp hair from his face with a gentleness bordering on desperation. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

Aaron met his gaze, resting his head limply against the wall. He swallowed hard around the pain burning up his throat. Tried to smile. And somehow, he didn’t know how, but he was able to rasp out the words through his bruised windpipe:

“Grinch Grinch.”

Chapter twenty

Never Tear Us Apart

Kenny held Aaron tight, cocooned in the duvet, burrito-wrapped and folded into his chest.

He hadn’t moved in hours. With his head buried into Kenny’s chest, breathing shallow, steady but brittle, he wasn’t quite catatonic, but he was close enough to scare the ever living fuck out of Kenny.

Kennywouldn’tlet go.