Page 22 of Dark Christmas

Chapter 12

Melor

“Drop the gun—now.”

The man’s voice is shaky but trying to sound commanding. My eyes are locked on him—and Amelia—whom he’s using as a human shield. I don’t know this man’s name, nor the name of the one whose blood is still pooling on my kitchen floor. It doesn’t matter. They made the mistake of coming into my home and threatening me—and worse, threateningher.

He will die tonight as well.

I can see desperation creeping into the man’s eyes, the slow realization that things aren’t going as planned. His original goal might have been revenge, but now he just wants to get out of here alive.

“You think I’m scared of you?” the man spits, pressing his gun into Amelia’s throat, making her wince. I can see the fear in her eyes and my heart clenches. “I’ll kill her right here, and I’ll enjoy watching you squirm before I put a bullet between your eyes.”

I feel the familiar surge of rage, a dark, deep anger that threatens to consume me. I want to take this man apart piece by piece with my bare hands, make him feel every second of his life slipping away. But I can’t rush this. I have to play it smart.

One wrong move, and Amelia’s dead.

I keep my gun trained on his face, my finger lightly resting on the trigger.

"Let her go," I say, my voice calm, but my eyes full of intent. "You know who I am, you know what I’m capable of. Let her go, and maybe you’ll live to see another day."

The man’s eyes flicker with anguish, his grip on Amelia tightening as his resolve starts to crack. He looks like he’s regretting every decision that brought him to this moment.

But it’s too late. He’s in too deep, and I know exactly how this plays out. When people like him get scared, they panic, and panic leads to death. I’ve seen it too many times to count.

I keep my gun trained on his face, every fiber of my body screaming to end his life right here, right now. But I can’t afford to make a mistake. The smallest misstep, and she could die. That’s not an option.

The man starts inching toward the door, dragging Amelia with him. They’re going to have to walk right past me to make their escape, which means he’s gambling that I won’t pull the trigger while he’s trying to make his move.

"Do you really think I’m going to let you leave here with her?"

He flinches, his panic growing more obvious. He’s making the classic mistake—believing he has control when it’s actually slipping through his fingers. He’s about to do something stupid,desperate, I can feel it.

"Here is what’s going to happen," the man says. "You are going to leave your gun here on the counter, walk into the dining room, sit your ass down, and put your hands on the table where I can see them. Then she and I are going to leave together. Once I’m sure you’re not on my ass, I will let her go.”

I keep my gun steadily trained on him, my eyes never leaving his.

“That’s not going to happen,” I reply. “You’re going to let her go, and you’re going to let her go—now.”

The man’s face twists with frustration, his voice rising. “You think this is a fucking game?” He tightens his grip on Amelia and raps her on the side of the head with his gun. She lets out a sharp cry of pain, the sound piercing through me like a knife.

My rage boils over. The world narrows, and everything else fades.

I let out a slow breath, centering myself, feeling the weight of the gun in my hand. Every muscle in my body goes still. I take aim, my focus narrowing to a pinpoint.

I pull the trigger.

The man pulls Amelia down just as I fire, and the shot hits the wall, sending a puff of drywall dust into the air. I barely react, immediately taking aim for another shot. But before I can fire, he shoves Amelia toward me, using her as a shield.

She crashes into me, harder than I expected, and we both stumble into the dining room. I catch her, my arms wrapping around her instinctively, but my eyes are locked on the man bolting for the door. Over Amelia's shoulder, I see him making his escape.

I gently set Amelia down, feeling her heart pounding, but at least she’s safe. That’s all that matters right now. "Stay here," I murmur, and push off after him.

By the time I reach the front door, he’s already outside, his feet hitting the pavement hard and fast in a desperate attempt to escape. I charge after him but he’s fast—too fast. By the time I catch up, he’s behind the wheel of his car, slamming the door shut with a wild look in his eyes.

I could take the shot but not here. Not in the middle of the street.

He peels out, tires screeching as his car speeds off into the night. All I can do is watch him disappear into the darkness, my jaw clenched tight.