Page 6 of Wicked Mistletoe

I open the fridge, my stomach growling, and bite my lip at the barren shelves. Great. Time to go shopping again, only Dad’s been MIA for three days now and my pocket money is drying up fast.

“Guess it's a sandwich for dinner,” I mutter. A dinner for one. Again.

As I close the fridge, movement on the TV catches my eye. The camera pans across a crime scene, yellow tape fluttering in the wind. Another killing? I abandon my pathetic excuse for dinner and grab the remote, cranking up the volume.

“... Local detectives have been on the trail of this drug lord for the past year, and our sources tell us they believe the police were close to catching him. But something must have gone wrong because when the detective went to apprehend the suspect, he and his partner were ambushed and brutally killed. Police investigations are…”

The remote slips from my numb fingers as pictures of the killed detectives flash on the screen, my gaze honing straight onto that achingly familiar face on the right.

That’s my dad.

My Dad.

Dad.

No. No, no, no.

“No.” Tears spill down my face as I stumble closer to the TV, desperately trying to make sense of the horror before me. The room feels like it’s spinning, and my legs give out beneath me. I can’t breathe, my hands shaking, reaching out like they can somehow touch the image and pull him out of that frozen frame. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.He can’t be dead.

“Dad?” I choke out, the word a broken whisper. But the truth stares back at me from that grainy news photo, and suddenly, my world just crumbles to dust around me.

My dad is gone.

1

EMILIA

Present day…

My eyes snap open, and a dizzying blur of red and green floods my vision. Heart hammering, I blink until the Christmas lights strung haphazardly around the ceiling swims into focus. For a moment, I’m completely lost.Where am I?Not in Quantico, that’s for sure. No one gives a damn about festive cheer in the academy. Then reality crashes back in waves: The safe house. New York City. Tomorrow I’m?—

Suddenly, a cold gust of air slams into my face, jolting me further into wakefulness. Something’s… off. My skin tingles just as the curtain sways into my peripheral vision.

Shit. I didn’t open the windows. IknowI didn’t.

Panic bubbles up in my chest, but I force it down.Cool it, Em. You’re trained for this.

Forcing myself to stay still, I slide my hand under my pillow, inch by agonizing inch. My fingers brush cool metal and tension melts into relief. In one fluid motion, I explode to my feet, my trusty 9MM aimed squarely at the shadowy figure lurking next to the flimsy green curtains.

“Who’s there?” My voice is steady, betraying none of the adrenaline surging through my veins.

“It reallyisyou, Emilia.” The dark, husky voice washes over me with familiar heat that sends goosebumps all over my body.Oh shit. Oh shit. I know that voice.Even if the years had blurred every other sound in my memory, that one was burned in. No one else has called me by my full name in years. And no one else ever said it like that. “If you were going to run away, you should have stayed gone. What made you crawl back into my city?”

My city.Yeah, that seals it. No doubt now. There’s only one man bold enough to claim an entire metropolis as his own.

“Rafael,” I whisper.

He emerges from the shadows, and suddenly I’m sixteen again, seeing him for the first time. The gaudy Christmas lights paint him in reds and greens, turning him into some kind of festive avenging angel. Breathe, girl. Just breathe. But how am I supposed to remember something as simple as breathing when he’s standing there, looking like sin incarnate and danger personified?

My heart launches into a full-on gymnastics routine as I drink him in, noting every detail the last five years have shaped. His dark hair is longer now, parted in the middle, the tips curling rebelliously at the nape of his neck. His face looks sterner, meaner somehow, like life has been chiseling away at him with a vengeance.

But it’s his eyes that freezes me—the same chilling silver, as beautiful as they are dangerous. Yet now, they’re only an eerie, lifeless void.

Still, this is Rafael.MyRafael, the man who gave up everything to save me, even when it nearly cost him his own life.My friend.

Before I can think better of it, I’m dropping the gun on the bed and flinging myself into his arms. A grin bursts ontomy face, fueled by a mix of sheer exhilaration and a deep, unexpected joy at seeing him again.

His grunt vibrates through me as I wrap my hands around his waist. But instead of the warm embrace I crave, his body turns to stone.Right.I’d forgotten how he hated being touched after… everything.Like tiny pinpricks of needles piercing my skin, he’d once said.

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