“Any witnesses? Security footage?”
“No cameras out there. We never thought we’d need them.” I clench my jaw. “But Sheriff, the timing is suspicious. The neighboring towns suddenly find a supplier right after we’re hit?”
“I hear you. I’ll be right there.”
As we wait for the sheriff, I take one last look at the stripped land. The trees will grow back eventually. Not in my lifetime.
“Hey,” Gabe says, catching my expression. “We’ll find who did this.”
23
Melody
I’m forming what might be the world’s first omega-alpha-llama alliance in the history of snow warfare, and I’ve never felt more alive.
Everett is still visibly tense from discovering the stolen trees, and he has that manic glint in his eyes that screams, “I need to throw something at someone before I explode.”
He explains the rules of Snow War with all the gravity of a five-star general outlining a tactical strike, while Oxford watches us with deliberation.
“It’s very simple,” Everett says, gesturing expansively at the snow-covered hills surrounding us. “Two teams. No mercy. Last team standing wins.”
“And by ‘last team standing,’ you mean?” I ask.
Everett’s grin is both charming and slightly terrifying. “Complete and total annihilation of the enemy.”
“Very sportsmanlike,” Finn mutters. “Nothing says ‘holiday spirit’ like violently pelting your loved ones with frozen precipitation.”
I stifle a laugh.
“And that’s not simple, that’s vague,” he continues, all huddled in layers. Once again, only his eyes are visible between his hat and scarf, giving him the appearance of a disgruntled ninja. “What are the actual rules? Is there a safe zone? Time limits? Geneva Convention protections against snow down the back of the neck?”
Gabe laughs. “Scared, my love?”
“Terrified, thank you for noticing,” Finn retorts. “Unlike your wall of muscle, I’m not made for incoming projectiles… especially icy cold ones.”
“We spread out. Hide. Attack. If you get hit with three snowballs, you’re eliminated,” explains Everett.
“Not my pretty face, please… or Melody’s.” Finn says.
“We’re gentlemen,” Everett says with mock offense.
“I’m an omega,” I point out.
“And I’m a beta who cheats at cards,” Finn adds.
“Fine,” Everett concedes. “Direct hit to the torso counts as elimination.”
Gabe cracks his knuckles, looking positively terrifying, and I feel a slight shiver of excitement just by looking at him. “Teams?”
“I call Melody,” Everett says immediately, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Can Oxford be on our team?”
Everyone turns to look at the llama, who stands majestically in the snow, his scarf fluttering slightly in the breeze.
“As… what? Artillery?” Finn asks.
“Defense,” I say. “Look at him. He’s practically a fortress.”