Page 62 of Dark Christmas

“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.