Dark Christmas: A Bratva Next Door Romance (Silver Fox Daddies)
Dark Christmas: Chapter 35

Sasha’s covering me like a shield, keeping me tucked down behind the car.

‘Stay down, no matter what,’ he growls.

I hear Melor’s footsteps, and I exhale a shaky breath. He’s okay. At least for now.

“Are you alright?” I whisper to Sasha, my heart hammering in my chest.

“I’m fine,” he grunts. His focus is sharp as he scans the garage. “But you better stay in one piece. Melor will kill me if anything happens to you.”

Just then, something catches my eye—dark red—soaking through Sasha’s shirt. My stomach twists.

“Sasha,” I breathe, staring at the blood. “You’ve been shot.”

His face is stone-like, but I see a flicker of pain in his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on staying down and staying alive.”

I swallow hard, feeling like I’m about to throw up, my heart clenching.

“You’re gonna be okay,” I say. “We’re in a hospital parking lot.”

Sasha laughs but it’s weak. “I’m gonna be just fine,” he says, but I can see the color draining from his face and I know that’s not good.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I’m about to tell him he needs help when he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun, shoving it into my hands. I stare at it, frozen. “Just in case,” he mutters, his voice strained.

“I don’t know how to use this!” I declare. Guns aren’t exactly my specialty.

He grins through the pain, coughing. Blood splatters onto his lips, and my stomach turns again. “It’s simple,” he says, “like a camera. Point and shoot. Safety’s off.”

Shit, shit, shit. My hands are trembling, the weight of the gun too real. This isn’t a damn movie—this is life or death—and I don’t know if I can do this.

Sasha coughs again, blood trickling from his mouth. His breathing’s getting worse, shallow and ragged. I’m terrified he’s going to die.

“Just stay alive,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper now. “And… take care of Melor. And your little kitten.”

His eyes slowly close, and my blood turns to ice. Is he dead? I can’t tell.

Panic claws at my chest.

Melor fires off a few more shots, each one ringing out in the garage like thunder. I strain to listen, my ears picking up on the silence from the gun that was firing rapid bursts earlier.

Then, I hear Melor’s voice, strong and commanding. “Denis, I can tell you’re out of ammo. You’re alone, and more or less unarmed. Good time to surrender, don’t you think?”

A laugh echoes back, wild and unhinged. “You think that’s the only gun I have? Try me!” Denis’ voice sounds feral; he’s out of control.

I press my fingers to Sasha’s neck, checking his pulse. It’s faint, and the blood pooling beneath him is spreading fast.

No, no, no!

My mind’s racing. He’s bleeding out, and I have no clue how to help him.

An evil laugh pulls my focus away from Sasha. I whip my head around, heart slamming into my chest.

It’s Denis. He’s found me.

A gun gleams in his hand, aimed right at my head, a wild, crazed look in his eyes.

My breath catches.

This is it.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he sneers. My entire body freezes, fear locking me in place.

I want to scream for Melor. but I am unable to speak. All I can do is stare down the barrel of Denis’ gun, praying for a miracle.

Another shot rings out.

Melor’s behind me, taking aim at Denis again. Relief surges through me, but it’s short-lived. Denis manages to fire back before Melor can get another shot off. The sound of the gunshot rips through the air, and Melor stumbles back, his body jerking from the impact.

I scream. Without thinking, I bolt toward him, my feet moving faster than my brain can keep up. I dive behind the nearby car where Melor’s crouched, clutching his shoulder. Blood stains his shirt, and his face twists in pain.

‘Fuck,’ he hisses through gritted teeth, clearly pissed he got shot. His eyes flash with fury and I can feel the rage radiating off of him. I look down at my trembling hands and realize I’m still holding the gun Sasha gave me.

‘Melor,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

He glances at me, his eyes fierce but soft. “I’m fine. It’s just a graze,” he lies. “But you need to get out of here. I’m going to create a distraction, and you’re going to run. Got it?”

“No way,” I snap, shaking my head. “I’m not leaving you.”

Denis’ voice cuts through the air, dripping with sadistic glee. ‘You two lovebirds hiding back there? Come on out! I’ll make it quick… after I’m done with your little girlfriend!’

‘Get ready,’ Melor growls, eyes locked on mine.

The footsteps get closer, heavy and deliberate. Melor pulls me close, his body tense. I try to help him to his feet, but he’s too heavy, his weight pressing against me. Blood spreads across his shirt, soaking through. I know it’s bad and my heart is breaking.

Finally, Denis steps into view, his gun aimed right at Melor.

I tuck Sasha’s gun away, hoping Denis doesn’t see it.

Denis smirks, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. ‘Drop the gun, or I kill the girl.’ He jabs the barrel toward me for emphasis.

Melor’s jaw tightens, and with a glare that could melt steel, he slowly lowers his weapon, his eyes never leaving Denis. I can see the pain in his face, both from the gunshot and the fact that he’s being forced to submit.

Denis’ grin widens. ‘Revenge for my brother. Justice, at last.’

Melor scoffs, blood trickling down his arm. ‘There’s no justice here, you piece of shit. You’ve just signed your own death warrant.’

‘Whatever,’ Denis shrugs, taking a step closer, his gun still trained on Melor. ‘At least I’ll be satisfied.’

I pull the gun out from behind me, raise it, and before I can overthink, I fire.

The shot goes wide, hitting a pipe on the ceiling behind Denis with a loud clang.

Denis flinches, whipping his head around in confusion. “What the fuck?” he says, his eyes narrowing. I’ve spoiled his little villain moment. But that split second of distraction is all Melor needs.

In a blur of motion, Melor grabs his gun, raises it, and fires. Bang, bang. Two clean shots—one straight to the head, one to the chest. Denis doesn’t have time to process what’s happening before he collapses to the ground, dead.

I stand there, frozen, my heart pounding in my throat.

Melor scans me from head to toe. ‘You okay?’

I nod, but my mind’s elsewhere. “Sasha,” I manage to choke out, pointing to where Sasha had fallen. ‘He was shot.’

Together, we hurry over, my stomach twisting in knots. Melor kneels beside his friend, his fingers searching for a pulse. The seconds stretch on forever, and I hold my breath, praying for a miracle.

Melor’s face falls, his hand dropping back to his side. “He’s dead.”