Chapter 10
Sofia
Christmas Eve
We agreed not to exchange gifts.
It felt ridiculous to pretend we could do something normal—wrapping paper, bows, soft smiles—when our lives were currently measured in exits and threat windows. Maksim had said it with a shrug, like it didn’t matter. I had nodded, like I didn’t care.
But I did.
Christmas had always been a big deal for me and my mom. Since she’d returned to Puerto Rico, I’d missed that. Speaking of, I needed to call her. But Archer had insisted I leave my phone in Maksim’s apartment when we had left.
Also, I cared because I wanted something small and ordinary with him. Something untouched by blood and violence. The best I could do with the situation was to make him a card. Once this was over and settled, I would get him a real gift.
So with a smile on my face, I made my way toward the metal staircase from our room. I knew it was silly, but I just wanted to see his smile at my goofy attempt at a Christmas card.
Instead, I got the cold, hard truth.
I stood at the top of the stairs, one hand braced on the railing, listening as Maksim spoke quietly below. Archer’s voice was low, controlled, every word edged with steel.
“Tonight,” Archer said as they sat at the large wooden table that seemed to have many duties. A fire burned behind them in the massive fireplace. “Boris is expecting you alone.”
“I won’t be alone,” Maksim replied with a scoffing huff.
“You will if you want him to show his hand. Or at least you want him to think you are.”
Silence stretched, the old-fashioned clock on the mantel ticking. I pressed my palm to my stomach, instinctive, grounding.
“Agreed. This ends tonight,” Maksim finally announced. “I confront him. He answers in a way that satisfies me… or he dies.”
The words didn’t scare me.
What scared me was the finality in his voice.
“The SUV is ready and running in the courtyard. We’ll take three of your Russians. That’s it. Decide which ones are going. Then we need to get going, or we’re going to be late,” Archer instructed.
Heart pounding, I backed away before they could hear me. At least I hoped they hadn’t. This time, I wasn’t filled with fear, but resolve. Quietly, I moved through the hall. Once in the room, I pulled on my coat, then I slipped on my boots without tying them until the last second.
Archer had taught me how to disappear when needed. He’d also taught me how to survive. I checked the small gun he’d given me. He said a gun was only a tool, and if one didn’t know how to use it, it was useless. He’d trained me with it until I was comfortable.
After screwing on the silencer, I tucked it into the holster that clipped it to the inside of my pants. Then I cautiously made my way down the back stairs to the door to the courtyard.
After casting a glance over my shoulder for anyone who might see or hear me, I slipped outside. The bitter cold hit me like a physical force, and I stumbled backward. After I regained my footing, I checked to see if anyone was already inside.
As I moved to the back of the SUV, I was thankful for the wind that covered my tracks in the snow. As quietly as I could, I climbed in the far back and hid.
Then I waited.
When they left, I’d be following.
* * *
The SUV smelled like leather and the crisp scent of winter.
Thankful for the cover over the back section, I curled myself into the corner, breath shallow, counting the potholes we hit.
None of the men spoke as we drove. Snow muffled the city as we entered, turning everything quiet and deceptively gentle.
During the drive, I realized I hadn’t exactly thought this through. What if they locked the doors of the vehicle and I set off an alarm when I opened the door to get out? In my head, I cursed my impulsiveness.
When the vehicle stopped, I paused. Fingers crossed, I prayed they wouldn’t lock the doors to facilitate a quick getaway when it was done.
Doors opened. Closed.
Footsteps faded. The locks never clicked.
With a sigh of relief, I climbed over the back seat and slipped out into the cold.
On our way to Maksim’s apartment one night, he had pointed out Boris’s house. I didn’t know exactly how to find it on my own, but I knew what it looked like. It was a fancy old Victorian home.
Looking up and down the street, I saw it.
Boris’s three-story home loomed ahead. Christmas lights wrapped the porch railing in warm gold that cast a shimmer on the snow around the house.
Red and green glittered from the roof and around the windows.
It looked like something out of a movie or a fairytale.
Such a ridiculous contrast against the dark man who resided there.
These homes, with their massive lots and tall brick, wrought iron-topped fences, must be worth a fortune.
I moved fast and as quietly as I could through the alley that cut between the two properties before his. I went through the backyard.
“Now how the heck am I going to get in?” I muttered to myself as I stared at the huge monstrosity of a home.
There was a dog door on the back door that I could see led to the kitchen. Glancing down at my curves, I knew that even though it was for a bigger dog, there was no way I was squeezing in.
I snuck up on the back porch to see if maybe the door was unlocked. When I grabbed the handle and turned, it didn’t budge. “Shit.”
It was getting cold, and my fingertips were going numb.
That was when luck shone down from the heavens upon me. The door swung open, and an older woman, muttering in what sounded like Russian, came out, carrying a trash bag. She left the door open as she waddled down the steps and toward the detached four-car garage.
Quickly, I hurried across the painted wood and into the warm kitchen. It was so cold out that the warmth from inside the home made my hands burn.
As I glanced around the kitchen trying to decide where to go next before the woman came back inside, I heard voices coming from down the hall. There were two doors, and I took my chances on the left one. With each step across the polished hardwood, I prayed it wouldn’t squeak.
The first room was a formal dining room with massive windows. I reached the second room just as voices rose.
“You’re weak,” Boris was saying, his voice sharp with disgust. “You chose her over the brotherhood. Over me.”
“I’m weak? Because I chose a woman? It wasn’t a matter of choosing her over anyone. I was still loyal to you. But if you’re forcing me to choose, then yes… I choose her,” Maksim replied.
“Idiot! Nothing and no one comes before the brotherhood. You chose a liability,” Boris snapped. “And now you’ll die for it.”
The gun came up as I looked inside what appeared to be a study with the same massive windows as the first.
Time fractured. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped into the open doorframe.
“Drop it,” I demanded.
Both men froze.
Maksim turned first. His eyes went wide—not fear. Horror.
“Sofia—no—”
Boris laughed. “Oh. It’s your little weak link herself.”
He pivoted toward me. That was his mistake.
The gun Archer had pressed into my palm days ago, despite its size, felt heavy and inevitable. I aimed where he’d taught me. Where fear no longer lived, I found the ability to do what needed to be done—I pulled the trigger.
The sound was insanely quiet.
Boris staggered back, shock flashing across his face as he fell into the antique plate glass window. The sound of the glass shattering was louder than the sound my weapon had made.
For a moment, nothing moved. It was as if time was suspended.
Then I rushed to peer through the broken glass.
Boris had landed in the pristine white that carpeted the ground and the bushes. Snow drifted down around him, soft and delicate, catching in his hair as blood bloomed across his pale gray suit coat.
Christmas lights twinkled on, red and green and gold reflecting off the white ground—now dotted with blood. Beautiful. Horrifying. Final.
Silence rushed in to fill the space he’d occupied.
Maksim crossed the floor in seconds, hands on my face, searching me like he was counting bones. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” I replied, breath trembling. “I’m fine. But if I hadn’t done what I did, you would have been. And so would I.”
His forehead pressed to mine, his breath uneven. “I told you I would protect you.”
I looked into his eyes, steady and bold. “And I told you I wouldn’t be afraid anymore.”
Below us, outside the broken glass, snow continued to fall, erasing footprints, covering blood. The city hummed, unaware.
With one hand resting over my stomach, I took his.
“We protect each other now,” I told him. “All of us.”
He kissed me then—not gentle, not desperate. Certain.
Christmas bells rang somewhere in the distance.
Peace, I realized, wasn’t quiet. Sometimes it was earned. And sometimes, it stained the snow with blood.