Christmas in ashes
The way she whispered my name like he had always known it, like I belonged to him in some twisted way.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.
“Not happening tonight,” I muttered.
But the universe hates confident people.
A shadow moved at the treeline.
Not running,not wandering,just standing and watching.
A tall figure this time,definitely not the child. My stomach twisted as the shape stepped slightly into the moonlight, revealing a man… or something trying to look like one. He wore a long dark coat, almost Victorian-style, with a fur collar dusted with snow. His hair was black, swept back, too neat for someone standing in a blizzard. The moonlight sharpened the lines of his face,high
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