Dark Christmas: A Bratva Next Door Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)
Dark Christmas: Chapter 31

It’s late and Amelia has already gone to bed. The house is quiet.

I sit in my office, the glow of my laptop lighting up the darkened room. On the screen is Mashkov, his hard features etched with years of violence and wisdom. His silver hair is cropped close, his face set in lines that speak of a life lived in the shadows. He’s in his sixties, but he’s still sharp, still dangerous.

“I’ve sent you everything I’ve got,” Mashkov says. “Daniil Medvedev’s in Oakland. Looks like he’s been laying low there for a while.”

I nod, scanning the info. Oakland is close, close enough that it’s no wonder the Medvedev brothers thought they could take me out. They’ve been right under my nose.

“We think living near you gave them the idea to finally make their move,” Mashkov continues, his gaze sharp as ever. “But all I’ve got is the address. No other intel.”

“That’s enough,” I reply. “I’m going to kill him.”

Mashkov raises an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? Have you secured backup?”

“Bogdnan’s coming with me,” I say, my tone leaving no room for doubt. “We’ll handle it.”

Mashkov leans back, a ghost of a smirk crossing his face. “Good. Daniil seems slippery, but if anyone can handle this, it’s you two. Anyway, good luck, Melor. You’ll need it.”

I shake my head, eyes cold. “I don’t need luck. I need Daniil dead.”

Mashkov chuckles darkly. “As always, you’re straight to the point. Just keep your head clear.”

“I will.”

I stand, my mind already shifting to what comes next. I cross the room to the large landscape painting on the wall. I slide the canvas aside, revealing the hidden safe behind it.

Opening it, I grab what I need. First, my Glock 19, reliable and discreet. Then, the H&K MP5, compact but deadly when things get close and ugly. I pull out a tactical knife as well, securing it in my belt. Lastly, I strap on a bulletproof vest. I’m going into this fully prepared. Daniil Medvedev is going to die tonight.

My phone buzzes with a text from Sasha.

Outside.

I reply.

On my way.

Before leaving, I step into the bedroom where Amelia’s sleeping soundly, her soft breaths barely audible. Something feels off. She’s been distant, and I know she’s hiding something from me. That much was clear by the look on her face as we left the doctor’s office.

I watch her for another moment, debating whether to wake her up, press her for the truth. But there’s no time for that now. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it once this mess is over.

I head downstairs and see Duke curled up in a tight ball on one of the couches. On the other couch, the two men Mashkov sent the other night are keeping watch. One of them nods at Duke. “You got a new recruit?”

I chuckle softly. “Keep an eye on him—and Amelia.”

They nod, and without another word, I step outside, locking the door behind me. The night is cold.

The real work begins now.

I spot Sasha’s car across the street and head over, slipping into the passenger seat without a word. He pulls away smoothly, the engine barely making a sound in the quiet night.

‘You dig up anything on Daniil?’ I ask, eyes scanning the empty streets as we leave San Francisco behind.

Sasha shakes his head. “Not much. He’s been a ghost for the last several years. No movement, no chatter. It’s like he’s vanished off the radar.”

The city blurs past us, the chilly winter air pressing against the windows. Christmas lights twinkle along the streets as we drive, casting colorful reflections in the darkened glass. San Francisco is calm at night, almost peaceful. But that changes the moment we cross into Oakland. The streets are darker and more dangerous.

We pull into Daniil’s neighborhood. A small and modest single-family home sits at the corner with a “For Sale” sign out front. No Christmas decorations, just a few lights on inside, hinting at a normal life within. It looks like the kind of place someone would hide, thinking they’d blend in.

Sasha glances over at me as we park. “In and out. Drop him and we’re gone. Shouldn’t take longer than five minutes if we do it right.”

I nod, my hand resting on the Glock at my side. “Five minutes.”

We sit in the car, watching the house in silence, doing a quick recon. The neighborhood is quiet, and we have a clear view through the front windows. Then, we see him. Tall, slim, slicked-back hair, moving with the kind of casual confidence that says he doesn’t think anyone’s looking for him.

That mindset only benefits us.

“That’s our guy,” Sasha mutters beside me, his voice low. “That’s him.”

I tense, ready to move, my hand gripping the Glock in my lap. But then, something catches my eye. A woman steps into view, mid-thirties, pretty. I raise my binoculars, focusing on her. She’s wearing a ring on her finger.

“Married,” I say, spotting a matching ring on Daniil’s hand.

And then, another surprise. Two kids, toddlers, twins by the look of them, run into the room, laughing as they chase each other around. My gut twists.

“Man’s got a family,” Sasha says quietly, shaking his head. “I didn’t know.”

I lower the binoculars, jaw clenched. “We can’t kill him right now.”

Sasha looks at me, surprised. “What?”

“We don’t kill a man in front of his family.” I sigh, running my hand through my hair.

“What about the other brother? Denis?”

“He was the one at my house that night. I don’t know where he lives.”

He exhales, leaning back in his seat. “So, what’s the plan?”

I glance back at the house. “Simple. We go up and have a little chat.”

Sasha laughs, a deep, rumbling sound. “A chat, huh?”

“Hide your weapons,” I say, smirking. “And try to look friendly.”

Sasha flashes a big, over-the-top smile. “Friendly enough for you?”

I chuckle. “Not that friendly; that’s creepy.”

We tuck away our guns and approach the front door, Sasha and I keeping our movements casual. I knock twice, and a few moments later, Daniil answers. His eyes flicker with recognition the second he sees us. He stiffens, his face draining of color.

“What is this?” he asks, his voice tight with fear. His eyes dart between us, already knowing what’s coming.

We say nothing.

His expression falls completely. “I’m not in that life anymore. I have a family. Please.”

I raise my hands, palms up, trying to keep the situation calm. “We’re not here for anything like that. We just want to chat.”

Daniil’s wife steps into view, concern etched across her face. “What’s going on?” she asks, glancing at us cautiously, like we’re about to pull guns at any second.

‘A chat,” I say, hearing the faint sound of the kids laughing and playing in the background.

Daniil turns to his wife. “Everything’s fine. Just keep an eye on the kids.”

She hesitates, her hand lingering on the door. “Should I call—?”

“No,” he cuts her off sharply. “It’s just a chat.”

After a tense pause, she nods and walks back inside, but not without casting one last wary glance in our direction.

Daniil sits stiffly on the porch, his hands clenched in his lap. ‘If you’re here to kill me,’ he starts, ‘please don’t do it in front of my family.’

I shake my head. ‘We’re not here to kill you.’

“We were going to kill you,” Sasha adds bluntly, his eyes cold. “But the plan changed.”

Daniil’s expression remains grim. ‘I don’t understand.”

I lock eyes with him, my voice cool and calm as I lay it out. ‘We’re the ones who killed your brother Dimitri.’

Daniil’s expression hardens into anger, and he sits up straighter. ‘Dimitri,’ he mutters, his jaw clenched. “I’m not happy about what happened to him, but I warned him. I told him not to cross the Bratva, not to steal from them. He didn’t listen.”

Sasha leans forward and says, ‘He paid the price.”

Daniil’s fists unclench slightly. His eyes flick to Sasha, an understanding passing between them. “Dimitri was reckless. Stupid, even. But he was still my brother.” He glances toward the house where his wife and kids are. “All the same, I don’t want to follow him to the grave.”

I’m unmoved. “That’s why we’re here. It’s not just about Dimitri. It involves your other brother, Denis. I need to replace him.”

Daniil looks genuinely confused, his brow furrowing. “Denis? What the hell does he have to do with this?”

Sasha and I exchange a glance. This is going to be more complicated than we thought.

“Denis and one of his associates broke into my house and tried to kill me. Held a gun to my woman’s head. More than that, he’s made it clear he’s not giving up until she and I are dead.”

Daniil’s eyes flash with fury, his accent thickening as he spits out, “That fucking idiot!” His hands clench into fists again, and it’s clear the weight of what his brother has done is sinking in. “He signed his own damn death warrant.”

He shakes his head, frustration and anger mixing in his expression. “Denis came to me a while back, rambling about revenge for Dimitri. I told him he was being ridiculous, that going after the Bratva—let alone you—was suicidal. I didn’t think he was serious. Hell, I thought he was just blowing off steam.”

His voice tightens. “We got into it about Dimitri. Denis was obsessed with getting even and wanted me to help him. I told him no, that he was out of his goddamn mind. It got physical, and my wife nearly called the cops on us.”

Daniil looks between Sasha and me, sadness in his eyes. “I’m out of that life; you have to believe me. I’ve been trying to leave it behind for years. My family… we’re moving far away for a new start. I was hoping to get away from my maniac brother before something like this happened.”

He’s pleading now, but there’s a deep sincerity in his voice. “I swear, I want nothing to do with this.”

I can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.

Daniil exhales sharply, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. “I told Denis straight up that if he went through with this, we were done. I’ve seen how it works. It’s a never-ending fucking cycle.”

His voice cracks slightly, but his resolve is clear. “I’ve watched enough families get caught in the crossfire, and I’ll be damned if mine becomes one of them. Cutting ties with him is the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done. But I did it, no hesitation. I’ve got a wife and kids to think about.”

He gestures toward the house again where his family is probably wondering if he’s ever coming back inside. His voice drops, rough and raw. “That’s all I want. To live in peace, to keep my family safe.”

I say nothing, my mind processing his words, weighing the truth in them. I believe him. The anger in his eyes isn’t for Sasha or me—it’s for Denis. for the mess his brother has dragged him into. The man is desperate to escape this life, to keep his family out of harm’s way. I can see that, and I can also respect it.

I glance at Sasha, and we share a look. It’s clear we’re thinking the same thing—Daniil is telling the truth. There’s no deceit in his eyes, just exhaustion and desperation to protect his family.

But what Denis has done can’t be undone.

“When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” he replies quickly. “It’s moving day, actually.”

I nod slowly, processing the information. “Good. Get far away from here. It’s too late for your brother, but not for you. Get out while you still can.”

Daniil’s face tightens with relief, but I’m not finished. My tone turns colder, sharper. “But if you try to help Denis in any way—warn him, tip him off, anything…”

I let the threat hang in the air, unfinished. He knows what I’m saying.

Daniil’s eyes widen, and he nods vigorously. “I won’t. I swear I’m done. Just make it quick for him. Please.” He says it as if he’s almost pleading with me.

I study him for a moment, my gaze never leaving his. Then, without another word, I rise to my feet. Sasha stands beside me, his broad frame casting a shadow over the porch.

“Thank you,” Daniil says, his voice thick with relief. “Thank you for sparing me.”

I meet his eyes once more. “As long as you play this the smart way, you’ll never see us again.”

With that, we turn and walk away, leaving Daniil in the dim light of his porch, his future hanging on his next move.

We get back in the car, the engine rumbling to life as Sasha pulls away from the curb. I watch Daniil through the sideview mirror. He’s moving slowly, like a man in a daze, his shoulders slumped, his whole world shaken.

Sasha breaks the silence. “We made the right call. And the guy’s lucky as hell. Anyone else would’ve shot him on the spot just to send a message to his brother.”

I nod slowly, staring out the window as the dark streets of Oakland pass by. “We don’t kill like that. Never have.”

Sasha grunts in agreement. The drive back to San Francisco is a quiet one. The city lights blur as my mind drifts, lost in the thought of what Daniil said about wanting peace, about cutting ties with his brother to keep his family safe.

Can I achieve the same? A peaceful life with Amelia? A family?

The idea has been gnawing at me ever since she came into my life. I’ve never wanted to settle down, never even considered it. But now I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like. A life with her, a home, maybe even a child. But how realistic is that with the life I’ve lived? With the enemies I’ve made?

Daniil is right, the only way to keep them safe is to leave; uproot everything and start fresh somewhere far away.

Is that what I’m willing to do for her?