Page 116 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

Merry freaking Christmas to me.

I don’t think anyone thought of blood when assigning red as the perfect holiday color, but here we are.

The cabin is in shambles, and blood coats every visible surface. My Christmas tree is smashed through the massive TV in the once opulent living area. My lively, colorful string lights are hanging by a thread, flickering as if adding to the production of the destroyed area like a spotlight. Some of them have even been used as makeshift weapons and are wrapped tightly around the neck of a masked man.

The massive Christmas dinner I’d spent hours preparing is ruined. Stuffing, green bean casserole, mac n’ cheese, and more is strewn across the floor. The table it all once sat on, cracked and lying in a pile of debris. A dead man’s head is even stuffed right up the ass of the turkey.

I wring my hands as I turn in place and survey my little sugar cookie village that I was so proud of. The M&Ms and other candy decorations are as crumbled and smashed as the little four sugar cookie people that once stood smiling amongst the buildings.

A choked sob leaves my throat when I see the little sugar cookie dog sticking out of the impaled eyeball of another dead man, who just so happens to be sitting in my bowl of mashed potatoes.

Tinsel is everywhere, adding a sparkle and ironic Christmas cheer to the apocalyptic damage inflicted upon my happy place.

“Grace, I’m s-”

“No.” I hold up a hand without even looking his way, not wanting to be pulled in by the deep, mesmerizing forest green of his eyes.

I’m mad, forClaus' sake! I deserve to be mad. But I can’tstaymad if I can see him!

“Grace, are yo-”

I hiccup out a noise, stopping the second voice. No need to let his charm pull me in either.

“Gra-”

“Just stop!” I cut off the third voice, throwing my hands up in the air before planting one on my hip and using the other to pinch at the bridge of my nose.

Ignoring all three voices, as well as the fourth man in the room who hasn’t even tried to speak, I tiptoe over a minefield of broken glass and other shattered remains of my once perfect Christmas until I finally find what I am looking for. There are two more bodies in the way of getting to it, but I just kick at their stupid corpses until they're well out of the way.

Success!

I reach the pile, exhaling a large sigh of relief when I see that my little prizes are somehow unscathed amidst the destruction. I snatch them up, whirling on my feet and smiling widely at the three men cautiously inching closer. When they see my grin, their faces simultaneously relax as well.

“It’s okay!” I chirp, juggling the brightly colored packages in my arms. “The presents are fine! Just a little bloody, is all!”

Giggling, I prance forward and hand each of the three a wrapped present in turn, completely ignoring the fourth now sitting miserably in the corner.

“Merry Christmas, guys!”

I can barely hold back my excitement as they look down at the gifts in their hands. There’s a second of silence, and I can’t help but shift on my toes, watching their expressions closely.

“Well?” I cock my head as they exchange uneasy glances. “Are you going to open them?”

When they continue to stare at me as if I’ve grown reindeer antlers out of my head, I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. “Oh, for fudge’s sake, just open them! You guys are acting like I’m handing you a live grenade.”

Key snickers, tearing into the paper with all the finesse of a five-year-old on Christmas morning. Teddy follows suit, though a little slower, carefully unwrapping his as if he’s worried about ripping whatever’s inside. Finally, Atlas gives in, pulling apart the paper with a smirk.

One by one, the knitted scarves and hats emerge, each one carefully crafted to match their eye color. I watch as Teddy holds up the soft azul-blue scarf with a look of quiet amazement, while Key laughs, wrapping the light-brown–as close to amber as I could get–scarf around his neck immediately and giving me a playful wink.

“I figured you guys could use something warm,” I say, grinning. “Since, you know, you keep dragging me into snow-filled danger zones.”

Atlas doesn’t say anything right away, just runs his fingers over the dark forest green yarn of his scarf, his eyes softening in a way I don’t often see. For a second, I almost think he’s speechless. Almost.

“Nutcracker…” he finally murmurs, looking up at me with something raw and unexpected in his gaze. “This is…” Hepauses, and then, with a small chuckle, shakes his head. “You didn’t have to do this.”

I shrug, trying to play it off even as my cheeks warm. “Well, I wanted to. Plus, I had a lot of time on my hands between all the marathon sex you guys insisted on.”

“Insisted on, right,” Key snorts, wrapping the scarf around himself dramatically. “I think she just wanted to see how good we look in handmade accessories. And spoiler alert, I look amazing.”

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