Maria
CHRISTMAS NIGHT
It’s only eight thirty on Christmas night, and all day I haven’t been in the mood for presents or holiday cheer. I finally give up and go upstairs to sit by my bedroom window. I don’t have the energy or desire to do more than watch the snowflakes fall gently to the ground below. I glance over at the closed door and feel a little guilty for not being downstairs. But I can’t imagine Dad is too eager to keep celebrating either. The last time I saw him he was sitting in the kitchen listening to a true crime podcast.
I take a look around at the hot pink walls, the neatly arranged art books, and the plush stuffed animals on my twin bed.
Nothing’s changed in my pretty cage, except for me.
Soon, I’ll have a little girl of my own. I stare at the latest sonogram pictures again and that’s the only thing that makes me smile.
The world outside is cold and unforgiving, but it’s warm and safe in here. In Holtsville, my father will keep me safely tucked away from what’s out there, but this time, I’ll listen to him. I rest my cheek against the cold windowpane and welcome the boredom with a long sigh. Mikhail is out there somewhere, and my thoughts are consumed with him. Is he out there shooting or being shot at? If he had died, I would’ve lost him anyway.
No, thinking that way is no consolation.
I hug myself tight and imagine his touch on my skin. The way we loved was forbidden and dangerous, and it only made my heart crave him more. I’ll have my memories to keep me going in this quiet town, and I’ll remember how much he loved me while I raise our little girl.
The room blurs and I wipe away my tears. It will be hard to convince myself my life will be enough without Mikhail.
A sudden noise outside startles me, and I strain my ears, waiting to hear it again. In the quiet, the crunch of boots on snow somewhere near the house echoes like the earth shaking. My heart hammers as I duck down and peer over the windowsill. I search the darkness for the source of the sound.
Holding my breath, I watch a shadowy figure approaching, careful to stay in the shadows. Fear has been lurking, intensifying, and an icy grip keeps me motionless.
I wonder if I should crawl toward the door. The dark figure has me on high alert, but there’s something familiar about it.
The fear lifts off me when I recognize the way that shadow moves. It’s him. It’s Mikhail. I know it is. My heart leaps with joy, and I open the window.
“Mikhail,” I whisper, leaning out over the sill.
He stops to stare up at the windows on the second floor, and his gaze stops on mine. I watch him come toward my window.
It’s as if he’s reclaiming me, even from the distance between us.
“Maria,” he whispers. His voice is filled with both longing and a warning. He knows the danger we’ll be in if discovered, but he’s here, risking everything to see me again.
Our love has brought pain to those around us, but I have to risk it. I have to be with Mikhail, even for a night. As much as I want to protect my father, I can’t let Mikhail go. This stolen moment could bring disaster down on us, but the thought of losing Mikhail forever is unbearable.
“Be quiet,” I whisper, staring at his heavy snow-covered boots. “You’re making too much noise.”
“Maria,” he whispers. The sound of my name on his lips again sends tingles over my skin. I smile, but Mikhail doesn’t. He looks around cautiously as if someone is there. I hold still for a moment until I hear a noise downstairs and am satisfied that my father is in the house.
I shove the window completely open, letting the frigid air in, and whisper to him. “Mikhail, it’s okay. How did you find me?”
Mikhail emerges out of the darkness and stands below my window. “Michael Rostova’s address is listed in the tax records online,” he laughs. He moves closer, and I can see the snow clinging to his jacket, his breath visible in the air. He looks up at me, and his grin turns into a wide smile.
I laugh too. “That’s a boring way to find someone.” My gaze darts toward my bedroom door. “You shouldn’t be here. You know what will happen if you’re caught,” I plead with him, though my heart doesn’t agree with what I say. “Please, Mikhail, you have to leave.”
He looks up at me, his eyes intense even in the shadows. A mischievous smile plays on his lips, but something darker lurks behind it. As much as I want him, I have accepted the truth. Our love is a ticking time bomb, and every second he remains here puts us both at risk.
“Maria,” his tone is soft. “Nothing will keep me from you.”
He’ll have to fight my father, I know it. My emotions are in a scramble as happiness competes with fear. My heart tightens with dread as I watch Mikhail refusing to leave my window. I look back at the door again and pray that my father won’t discover us.
“Please,” I beg him. “I can’t lose you, Mikhail.”
“You won’t,” he says. “I promise.”
A snowball sails through the air, catching me off guard. Giggling, I duck, and it lands on my carpet with a soft thud. I look at Mikhail, and he winks. Immediately, his irresistible smile melts my knees.
“I love you, Maria,” he says, backing away from the window.
The sound of crunching snow tears apart the moment, and on alert, we both look toward the backyard. My eyes widen when my father emerges from the dark like a phantom conjured up from a deadly nightmare. Gun in his hand, his fevered gaze fixes on Mikhail.
Fear holds me tight as time slows to a crawl. I remember Sorokin’s chilling words. Zakhar Sergeyevich Budanov, you must swear on the Bratva oath that if Mikhail Ivanov sees your daughter, you will kill him.
Desperation floods my body as I lean too far out the window and shout.
“Dad, no!” I scream. “Don’t do it. Please!”
Dad doesn’t look at me; his gun is aimed at Mikhail.
“Maria, get back inside the window.” His furious tone leaves no room for argument.
My mind races, grasping at any possible solution to prevent disaster. “Daddy, please!” I plead. “I love him.”
For a split second, a flicker of doubt crosses my father’s face as Mikhail stands there defiantly. But then Dad’s features twist in fury, and there’s no turning back.
“I took an oath, Maria,” he spits out.
I watch as the horrible scene unfolds and darkness closes us in. I’m torn between my love for Mikhail and my loyalty to my father. I force myself to watch what my selfish actions have caused.
“Back inside, Maria!” Dad shouts. “This ends now.” He aims the gun at Mikhail, and Mikhail pulls his gun out a second too late.
“No!” I scream, but it’s too late.
The gunshot echoes through the night and shatters my world into a thousand broken pieces.
“Mikhail!”
My vision blurs as that awful sound rings in my ears. I wipe my eyes, and I see that Mikhail isn’t hit. Instead, he turns toward someone else lurking in the shadows and fires another shot.
Gunsyn staggers forward, clutching his chest. He collapses onto the ground, blood seeping into the pristine snow. He lies there, looking up at the sky, gasping. His breath sends a fog into the cold air as Mikhail and Dad approach him.
“Maria,” Mikhail calls up to me. “Inside!”
As they approach Gunsyn’s motionless form, a sense of unease grows. Is this another trap?
“Revenge is the sweetest flavor you will ever taste.” Gunsyn coughs as he speaks. “Isn’t it, Kolya?”
“Not revenge,” Mikhail growls. “Justice.”
Gunsyn’s eyes lock on his. “I care for no one but the Bratva, and love none other than the Bratva.” His voice is a choked whisper. He turns his gaze to my father, and with a final breath, he forces a bloody smile. “Merry Christmas, Zakhar.”
The red snow surrounds his limp body, and his vacant eyes stare at the sky. But it’s not over.
“Quick, my pakhan.” My father’s voice is tense. Mikhail nods, understanding the urgency of our situation. Together, they work to dispose of the body before anyone discovers what has happened.
I watch the street from my window, holding my breath as the minutes tick by. No one steps outside their homes to investigate the racket. No sirens blare in the distance. And with relief, I realize that we’re safe for now.
Everything I hold dear hangs in a precarious balance.
But there’s no escaping the fact that tonight’s violence taints the sacred night. Tonight is a stark reminder of that. My fingers grip the windowsill as I watch them carry the body to the backyard. I should feel relief, but all I can think about is how our lives are spiraling out of control and how powerless I am to stop it.
The front door flings open, and Mikhail steps into the house, his gaze searching for me. I run down the stairs to him and throw myself into his arms. I cling to Mikhail as my voice rises with emotion. “I love you.”
His strong arms wrap around me, holding me close. Happiness blooms in my heart like a thousand flowers in spring as our heartbeats sync.
“I love you. I love you! I love you!” I say again and again.
“I love you too,” Mikhail murmurs into my hair, and his low voice sends chills over my skin. His words feel like a lifeline, dragging me back from the edge of hopelessness. And I know that this time, he will never let me go.
Dad watches our embrace with a stoic expression. But when he steps forward, the tension in the room dissipates.
“Mikhail Ivanov,” he says. “The mother of your child has missed you.”
“Dad,” I squeal, shooting him a warning stare.
“I see how much she loves you, Mikhail Ivanov. And I give you both my blessing.”
I pull away from Mikhail and look at my father in disbelief. “Dad, are you sure … ? What about the oath?”
“Fuck the oath.” His mouth curls in the faintest of smiles. “You deserve happiness. Both of you.”
Mikhail nods, acknowledging what my father has given us. He lets me go and takes a step toward my father. He watches as my father kneels before him and places the very gun that Sorokin gave Dad to kill Mikhail on the floor between them.
“I care for no one but my family,” Dad’s eyes lock on Mikhail’s, “and I shall love none other than them. Do with me what you will for breaking my oath, my pakhan.”
“In that case, Zakhar Sergeyevich Budanov,” Mikhail’s voice resonates with authority, “pick up the gun and rise as the Avtoritet of the Ivanov Bratva once more.”