Page 127 of Moonlight & Mayhem

“So they don't let outsiders in,” Chrome said. “And they don't let wolves leave.” Cold moved down Chris's spine. The dream flashed through her mind—snow, Christmas lights, the bridge, the cabin, three claw marks through a crown, and then something else—a man with dark hair, a scar across his throat, and blood on his shirt. She'd never seen his face clearly until last night’s dream.

Chris sucked in a breath, and the room disappeared around her. Snow slammed into her face, and she was back on the mountain road. She wasn’t dreaming; she was seeing. The stranger stood in front of her, closer this time. His face became clear—his dark eyes, hard jaw, and scar that ran across his throat. He was holding a knife, and blood dripped from the blade. Chrome stood between them.

“Run!” he shouted.

Chris looked down. Her hands were covered in blood. It wasn’t Chrome's. The stranger smiled. “You came back for Christmas.” The vision shattered, and Chris stumbled.

Chrome caught her. “Christmas!” She grabbed his kutte. Her heart pounded. “Chris.” Chrome's hands framed her face. “Look at me.” She did and saw that his eyes were worried. “What did you see?”

Chris couldn't answer. Moon was beside her now. “What happened?”

Chris looked at Chrome. “You were there.”

His face changed. “Where?” he asked.

“Holly Ridge.” Chrome's hands tightened around her. “There was a man.” He went still, and Chris swallowed. “He had dark hair and a scar across his throat.” Chrome released her, slowly, as every bit of color disappeared from his face.

Howler noticed. “Chrome.” The Enforcer didn't answer.

Chris's heart beat harder. “You know him.”

Chrome looked at her. “Yes.”

“Who is he?” His jaw tightened. For the first time since she'd known him, Chrome didn't have a sarcastic answer. There was no grin, no flirtation—nothing. Only something dark, old, and personal.

Finally, he said, “My brother.”

Chris stared at him. “You have a brother?”

“Had.” The word landed heavily.

Moon frowned. “Had?”

Chrome looked toward the falling snow. “He died twelve years ago.”

Chris's stomach dropped. “I just saw him.”

“I know,” Chrome said.

“How could you possibly know that?” she asked.

Chrome looked back at her. “Because Holly Ridge doesn't celebrate Christmas.”

Chris frowned. “What?”

Chrome's expression hardened. “They celebrate the dead.” The Christmas music playing through the clubhouse suddenly stopped, and every light went out as darkness swallowed the room. Someone cursed. Chris's wolf slammed forward, and then the lights came back on. The clubhouse went silent.

A box sat beneath the Christmas tree, and Chris stared at it. “That wasn't there before.”

Tempest pulled her gun as though shooting the gift would help. Howler did the same, and Chrome moved in front of Chris. She immediately shoved him aside. “Stop doing that.”

“Not now,” he said.

Red approached the tree. “Don't touch it,” Chris ordered. She didn't know how she knew; she just did.

Moon came beside her. “Was this in your vision?”

“No,” Chris said.