"And now he’s exactly where he belongs," Gabriel says, a cold, satisfied smile curving his lips. "Standing in the wreckage of the Thornton name with his real father. He’s your problem now."
The words hit James like a bullet. His smile falters. He realizes, too late, that he didn't destroy Gabriel.
He freed him.
"Come on, Blair," Gabriel says, turning his back on them. "We're done here."
We take one step toward the stairs, and then the vibe in the room shifts. It’s a subtle change in pressure, a vibration of intent that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
"You son of a bitch!"
I turn back just in time to see James Thornton lunge.
He’s grabbed a steak knife from a nearby table, the silver glinting under the chandeliers as he rushes the stage. He’s clumsy, drunk, and slow, but the intent to kill is etched into every line of his face.
Someone in the front row screams.
Gabriel moves to step in front of me, his arm shooting out to shield me, but he doesn't get the chance to do more before someone else steps in.
A blur of black motion intercepts James before he gets within five feet of us.
Xander.
The priest moves with a speed that defies physics. One hand clamps onto James’s wrist, twisting it with a sickeningsnapthat I can hear over the screams from the crowd. The knife clatters to the floor.
James howls, his knees buckling, but Xander holds him up by the broken wrist, a terrifying, unhinged smile on his face.
"Now, now," Xander tsks, his mismatched eyes lighting up like he just opened the best present under the tree. “If you wanted to die, you could have just asked nicely."
Cole Callahan is there a second later. He looks bored as he grabs James by the back of the neck, forcing his face down toward the floorboards.
"Let him go, Xander," Cole says, sounding like a tired parent dealing with a toddler. "We aren't doing this here."
"Why not?" Xander narrows his eyes. He tightens his grip on James’s broken wrist, eliciting another shriek from the man."Red is a Christmas color. What’s more festive than a little arterial spray?"
Gabriel moves. He steps directly in front of me, his broad back blocking my view of the violence, effectively shielding me from any potential spray. He looks down at the priest from the edge of the stage, his expression cold and unimpressed.
"Xander," Gabriel warns, his voice cutting through James's whimpering. "My wife is wearing white. If you get blood on her dress, you and I are going to have a problem."
Xander sighs, a long, dramatic exhalation that blows a lock of hair off his forehead. "You are such a buzzkill, Gabriel. I was just going to open him up a little bit. See if he has a heart in there."
He leans in close to James’s gray, sweating face, his mismatched eyes wide and terrifying.
"I bet it's just a lump of coal."
Cole steps up, looking bored. He grabs James by the back of the neck, forcing his face down toward the floorboards.
"Let him go," Cole says, his voice flat. "If we kill him, we have to deal with the body. I’m not spending Christmas digging a shallow grave in the woods.”
Xander rolls his eyes. “I don’t mind?—”
“No. If we give him to the police, he’s their problem. I’m taking Fallon home tonight so we can wake up tomorrow morning and do all the Christmas shit with the kids. I’m not spending it cleaning this up."
"Fine," Xander grumbles, releasing James’s wrist with a final, unnecessary twist that elicits another shriek. "But you owe me."
“Sure.”
The doors burst open, and half a dozen uniformed police officers rush in like they were waiting for Cole to deliver his line, that's how perfect the timing is. But they don't rush the stage. They don't pull guns on the man in the priest collar breakingbones or the man holding a CEO like a dog who shit on the carpet.
