The Wolf Came on Christmas (Johanna and Alexander) novel Chapter 57

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But I was trying to decide between one thing and the other, with roars and screams in the background, when a tremendous impact made the whole truck shake.

My first impulse was to throw myself over Andre and cover him with my body. Sasha started crying again, frightened; I protected them both with my arms, even though I could barely move my right one anymore. The sound that followed, so close it felt like it was right beside my ear, was claws screeching against metal. When I lifted my head, I saw the windshield clouded by a fine spiderweb of cracks from the blow, and then there were savage scratches across the roof. My eyes went wide when another heavy strike followed-and then the feline’s enormous nails pierced the metal like a can opener wedge. The roof bent under his weight.

Large drops of blood began falling from his claws, and I realized he was slicing his own fingers on the sharp metal, yet he didn’t seem to feel pain at all or have any intention of retreating. For less than a second, I imagined myself doing the same thing, and I almost gagged at the horrible image-at myself ripping off my own nails to…

Was he willing to leave his claws behind on that mission?

Was he that stubborn?

That invincible-or unstoppable?

The chills that ran through me then were unreal. That blind obstinacy gave the word terror a whole new meaning. I wanted to scream again, but I couldn’t. I became certain that a being like that would never stop, for anything or anyone. Not even if he destroyed his own fingers trying to tear open the roof of that vehicle.

Why did it matter so much to him to kill me-or the children? Or Alexander? Why were they doing this, all of them!?

It was so incomprehensible that I almost burst into tears from fear and despair. My gaze fell almost accidentally on the glove compartment in one of the front seats, and I recognized the shape of a gun holster carefully stored inside. I didn’t think twice. I pressed Sasha to my chest with my injured arm as best I could and stretched my good one toward the compartment. With trembling fingers, I struggled for a moment with the clasp until I managed to pull the pistol out-and I took the safety off with complete certainty.

It had been a long time since I’d fired a gun, and I wondered if I still could… besides, it wasn’t my “good” hand.

When a drop of blood from that monster’s claws landed on my face, I didn’t hesitate. I raised the pistol, braced it against the roof lining, and pulled the trigger. My arm slammed painfully

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from hand to shoulder in a violent recoil that made me cry out-but almost at the same time, the furious scratching above us stopped. All that remained was the creature’s raging, hissing roar, and the monster struggled another moment to free his nails from the holes…

Then came silence. Or almost-because I could hear Alexander’s and Ishida’s distant voices.

The panther had escaped, still alive.

If only I could describe how my hands were shaking.

I don’t know how I managed to coordinate my fingers enough to put the safety back on the gun, then I dropped it under the seat, exhausted and wrecked with nerves. Sasha was still whimpering, gripping my clothes tightly, while Andre was doing the best job in the world trying to hug both of us at once.

“He’s gone now, Han,” he said, pulling away from me so I could straighten up. “He left. We’ll be okay.”

I sat up very carefully, and thought I might faint from the shock after such an adrenaline crash. But no. It was already clear that fainting wasn’t really my thing-it didn’t happen very often; I had to be extremely hungry and stressed for that.

I did scream again when I heard pounding on the door behind me.

“The locks, Johanna!” Alexander’s deep, guttural voice thundered in his semi-animal form. ” Unlock it-come on! It’s okay now!”

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help wanting to give something back to him for his bravery-or to Andre, who had perhaps been the bravest of all; so small, yet determined to protect me and his sister. Sasha had curled against my chest, sucking back tears between hiccups, sucking on her fist while watching her father anxiously.

“You need attention too,” I pointed out to Alexander.

“That can wait. My son is more important.”

“I agree with that-for once,” I said, stepping away from the truck.

The problem came when I lost my footing and realized my knees barely responded. I almost face-planted into the snow if Alexander hadn’t quickly wrapped an arm around my waist and stopped me from falling. Ugh-the smell of wet, sweaty dog suddenly hit me and I had to make an effort not to breathe. I think the worst flaw of being a werewolf is the stench their fur gives off when wet. Or maybe it was just the smell of blood mixed with sweat.

“And you might be going into shock again, so you’d better stay here with Toshi. Hey, Toshi! Watch her for a moment, will you? I’ll come back for her, but… stay with her and make sure she doesn’t fall,” Alexander growled, dragging me back to the truck. He handed Sasha to me and started toward the cabin with his children. “I’ll be back for you right away.”

“What? No, wait-what are you going to-?”

“Just stay there for a second! You can barely walk. Your legs are shaking like jelly.”

Well. He was obviously right. Some heroine I turned out to be.

The Hattai came over to where I was, climbed onto the truck roof to inspect the holes closely, then dropped back down and stood beside me, taking his guarding duty very seriously. Both swords were sheathed, secured to his belt, and his fists were clenched defensively on the blue-and-gold hilts. We exchanged an awkward glance before I noticed the shreds of his white shirt and the blood-or rather, the wounds visible on his chest through the torn fabric.

Long claw marks that would leave parallel, knotted scars.

“Are you okay?” I asked, feeling a reflexive ache in my injured shoulder.

“Don’t worry about me. I will recover.”

“Wow-so you’re all equally stubborn, I see,” I snorted irritably. The general tendency to minimize everything annoyed me. I doubted he’d think it was fine if his arm were hanging by a thread of flesh. “And you can call me Johanna. That’s fine.”

“Very well-don’t worry about me, Johanna. Are you okay?”