Page 70 of Dark Christmas
I grit my teeth, my blood boiling in my veins. I won’t let them get near her. Not while I still breathe.
Machine gun fire erupts again, the deafening roar of bullets rattling throughout the parking garage. I hear Amelia let out a shriek and rage surges through me, hotter than anything I’ve felt before. My mind blanks, and instinct takes over. I rush toward Amelia and Sasha, barely processing the gunfire raining down around me. They’re trying to pull the same move, using the machine gun to keep me pinned while the second guy lines up his shot.
Not this time.
I press myself against the cold steel of a nearby car, waiting for that brief pause when the machine gun runs dry again. The firing stops. I take a quick breath, steady my hand, and watch the second man rise, his weapon trained on Amelia and Sasha.
This time, I’m ready.
I let the air out of my lungs, sight in on him, and squeeze the trigger. The shot rings out, clean and sharp. The man’s head snaps back, a neat hole drilled in his forehead. He drops to the ground, lifeless.
Chapter 35
Amelia
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.