The Wolf Came on Christmas (Johanna and Alexander) novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122-1

“No, not yet. It’s just that last night she stayed awake until very late, she had colic and between crying kicking she didn’t manage to sleep much. And neither did I,” he explained with a growl. “But anyway, shouldn’t you be in bed already, Johanna?”

Yes, in Minneapolis it was ten thirty at night and when he called me I was about to go to bed. But it was

almost ridiculous to see myself so dynamic after a bath, when hot water usually relaxed me so much t it made me very sleepy. I felt as if someone had injected a dose of caffeine directly into my veins.

His voice had that effect on me, no matter the hour. It reactivated me.

“It’s early,” I lied. “And I have to write a little.”

“… all right. I should let you work then.”

“No!” I exclaimed, scandalized, and grabbed the phone as if it were going to escape from the bedding. ” still early, don’t worry. I have time.” I paused, nervous, and then dared to ask something that had been occupying my mind for several days. “Alexander, what are you going to do now? I mean, it’s not like you can go back to your old life and… and the children…”

That wasn’t my business either, and as I have always said, if he didn’t want to say anything about it, he o had to keep quiet. But Alexander never left me in suspense:

“I understand. I suppose sooner or later you’re going to see it on television, so it wouldn’t be bad for you hear it from me first,” he began, and I grew very quiet at the gravity of his tone. “My father has decided to go slowly with this, but not to hide it. As you must know very well, the VLC Group has very well–known figures and everything is arranged for me to become part of that public facet again. The strategic schem that my father and his advisors have set up to cover my disappearance and my years of absence, Anya’s death and everything that happened in the last few days is one of the most intricate, the largest I’ve seen them undertake in years. And you are going to cost a lot of money.”

For someone with his resources to speak of costs with such impression, I could only imagine the size of the operation that would be set in motion.

what does that mean?” I had to find out, just to be sure.

“That it will be as if I had never left,” he summarized, and I didn’t notice him very happy with the idea even though it seemed like the perfect solution “At least, for the public As far as I know, I will return to work in the family companies and pose for them as some kind of hero This is going to be big, Johanna, it will be in the media spotlight for quite a while”

But I also realized something else

#

that means I won’t hear from you for a long time,” I said, not without a certain weakness

“Don’t say that he interrupted, completely convinced “Andre would never forgive me for something like that I will find a way to stay in contact without that harming you as well.

+25 Points

I would have liked to ask him how his return to public life and becoming Alexander Valinchenko again, th heir of the VLC Group empire, could harm me, but he continued talking about other things that I really did not hear. My mind had gone blank, only thinking about the events to come. What could have him so troubled? It was clear that regarding the life of Alexander as “the man” everything was said and settled, but I imagined that what had to do with the life of Alexander “the werewolf, prince of a secret clan” was not so resolved yet. Again, I was afraid. But not so much for myself, but for him and the children.

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Chapter 122-2

Someone like me knew the power of the media and held an almost reverential fear of it.

There was a lot that Alexander was not telling me.

But perhaps asking too much would have been a mistake. I managed to restrain my nosy inner journali and preferred to keep talking about lighter topics, until it was eleven thirty and I said goodbye to him, v the request that next time he call me at a more accessible hour so I could speak with the children and wish them Merry Christmas. I was weak, and I told him I missed them.

And the understood. He said the little ones missed me too.

That night, I couldn’t write. Nor sleep.

Just as Alexander had anticipated, the news exploded in the media.

I nearly died of fright the first time I saw it: it was during an evening edition of CNN News. They were broadcasting a video of a press conference at the headquarters of the VLC Group in Moscow, Russia, where two very important announcements were made: the first, that the firm VLC Air Services and Logistics had a new CEO; and the second, that this CEO was none other than Alexander Sergei Illych Valinchenko, the man who had been presumed dead for more than three years.

At that moment, my parents and I were finishing dinner the day before New Year’s Eve.

The three of us sitting at that table stopped eating dessert instantly. My knife ended up inside the plate, next to the half–peeled apple. The commentator was speaking in English, but underneath you could hear the original audio in Russian, and then they played part of the conference with subtitles. You could clearl see Illya Valinchenko speaking before a rather important audience in a kind of meeting that reminded me somewhat of official announcements from the White House. Alexander’s father looked very important an firm at his podium, speaking to the cameras. Mikhail stood to the right, and Alexander to the left in between those images, the newscasters mixed in parts of an interview conducted a few hours earlier with the brand–new director

Alexander looked quite well, considering he was still recovering from the terrible wounds Haydar had inflicted on him. His left forearm was in a sling

Seeing him on television felt so strange, for a moment

My mother began clearing the dishes from the table, and I hadn’t touched my apple again My father excused himself to go out and smoke a cigarette, and from afar heard Mom scolding him for doing that right after eating Theard them vaguely All my attention was on the television on the clear high definition image that was a gift to my eyes. Alexander was speaking in Russian with someone interviewing him, but i didn’t pay attention to the subtitles that time, I simply moved away from the table and approached the plasma screen with my arms crossed over my chest

No wonder he had gone five days without speaking to mes

“How curious and how horrible what happened to that young man, don’t you think?” my mother said, standing beside me and offering me the now–peeled apple. “He’s kidnapped by a group of terrorists, manages to escape and tries to live a normal life in secret so they won’t capture him again, only for the men to find him and kill his wife… it’s terrible. They must have been very stubborn terrorists. They say he has two small children, who barely survived. Who knows how he managed to escape.”

I frowned. The CNN commentator was talking about exactly that in the background.

“Terrorists?” I know I said, thrown off. I took the fruit from her hands, but I didn’t bite it.

“That’s what they’re saying.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh at the implausibility of it or what. Haydar, Álvaro, and their whole team w indeed very stubborn, but… if that was the “wonderful scheme” Illya Valinchenko and his advisors had devised, it needed to seem realistic and not pulled out of a Hollywood movie.

Of course, Alexander’s scars were real enough. And Anya’s corpse.

My eyes filled with tears when they broadcast in poor quality the burial of the woman’s remains. I recognized most of the faces present at the ceremony; I could even see Andre and distinguish the baby his father’s arms. Of course, it was somewhat blurry because of the distance and the video in general wa an artificial zoom achieved with special software; but I saw enough to understand that the werewolves were very serious about manipulating any information outlet they could use to support their version of events. In that, I had to give Illya and his people some credit. A burial staged under such affected conditions did not lack credibility.

Again, they returned to the interview with Alexander. I squeezed the apple in my fingers. I didn’t recognize him at first. He looked very serious and serene, neat and impeccable. Nothing like the man who had been in my house, tormented by forces and weaknesses beyond his control. He was someone else. With his elegant dark gray suit and black tie, his hair a little longer than the last time I saw him and combed back, clean–shaven, with the attitude of a full–fledged businessman. No, that man could not be Alexander; he might as well have been his long–lost twin brother, cold and calculating. His voice sounded as if everything were perfectly calm and there was nothing to worry about.

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