If hell existed, it would look exactly like the children’s winter festival.
I knew this the moment I stepped outside the packhouse and saw the chaos spread across the snow covered field. There were banners strung between trees, stalls painted in every shade of cheerful insanity, and at least five different areas where children were screaming. Not laughing. Screaming. The kind of sound that burrowed directly into my brain like a deranged ice pick.
Someone had set up a stage covered in glittering snowflakes. Another person was juggling candy canes. A toddler was dragging a gingerbread man larger than himself through the snow like it was a corpse.
I stared at all of it with the expression of someone who had recently lost the will to live.
Ronan stood beside me in full Beta mode. His arms
