Masuk
Sebastian Volkov hated Christmas.
He hated the lights, the forced cheer, the jingling music that followed him like a stalker, and most of all, he hated the way the holiday reminded him of everything he had lost. The only reason he was currently stepping out of a black SUV into a snow-covered luxury lodge in Aspen was tugging on his gloved hand. “Daddy,” Noelle Volkov said, her tiny boots crunching happily against the snow. “Is this where Santa lives?” Sebastian looked down at his six-year-old daughter—wide-eyed, red-cheeked, bundled up like a walking marshmallow—and sighed. “No,” he said flatly. “Santa is a myth.” Noelle gasped. Loudly. Dramatically. Like a child who had just discovered betrayal on a global scale. “You promised,” she accused, pointing an accusing mitten at him. “You said Christmas would be magical this year.” Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose. “I said we’d go somewhere cold,” he corrected. “And safe.” Safe. That was the key word. Aspen was neutral territory. No blood feuds. No bullets. No rivals. Just snow, expensive cabins, and people who drank overpriced cocoa and pretended the world wasn’t run by men like him. That was the plan. The universe, however, had always enjoyed laughing at Sebastian Volkov. The lodge doors burst open, letting out a wave of warmth, laughter—and her. Sebastian froze. She walked out like she owned the snow beneath her boots. Long dark hair spilled from a wool hat, her coat cinched at the waist, confidence in every step. She was beautiful in a way that felt intentional. Dangerous. Her eyes scanned the area sharply, calculating exits. Sebastian’s hand twitched toward a gun that wasn’t there. Because he knew her. Nyra Valen. Mafia queen. Strategist. His biggest rival. And apparently… a Christmas tourist. “Well,” Nyra said, spotting him instantly. Her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “If it isn’t the Grinch himself.” Noelle looked between them. “Daddy, is that your friend?” Sebastian and Nyra spoke at the same time. “No.” “Absolutely not.” Noelle frowned. “You talk like married people.” Sebastian nearly choked. Nyra laughed—an honest, surprised sound—and Sebastian hated that his chest reacted to it. “Your daughter’s funny,” Nyra said, crouching slightly to Noelle’s level. “What’s your name?” “Noelle,” she said proudly. “Daddy brought me here for Christmas so Santa can finally find us.” Nyra blinked, then shot Sebastian a look. “You brought a child into my vacation town?” “This is not your town.” “Oh, sweetheart,” she said sweetly. “Everything is my town.” Sebastian leaned down. “Noelle, go inside. Hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows.” Noelle hesitated, eyes narrowing. “Don’t fight her.” Sebastian stiffened. “I won’t.” Nyra smirked. “Liar.” Noelle sighed like an exhausted adult. “Grown-ups are weird.” Then she skipped inside. The moment the doors closed, the air shifted. “This is neutral ground,” Sebastian said quietly. “Whatever game you’re playing—” “I’m playing Christmas,” Nyra interrupted. “Try it sometime. You look like you’d benefit from joy.” “I don’t trust you.” “Good,” she said. “I’d be offended if you did.” They stood there, snow falling softly around them, two enemies pretending not to feel the strange pull crackling between them. “You’re a widower,” Nyra said suddenly. Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “Don’t.” “She died three years ago,” Nyra continued, her tone softer now. “I know.” Silence stretched. “You did your homework,” he said. “I always do.” Another pause. Then she smiled again—dangerous, teasing. “Relax, Volkov. I’m not here to kill you. It’s Christmas.” “That’s not reassuring.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Besides, if I wanted you dead, it wouldn’t be in front of your child.” Sebastian hated that a part of him believed her. “I booked this lodge for two weeks,” she continued. “Looks like we’ll be… neighbors.” “No.” “Oh yes.” Inside the lodge, Noelle pressed her face to the glass, watching them. She grinned. Her daddy had finally met someone interesting.Midnight came with silence.No wind.No warning.Just a still, suffocating quiet over the eastern ridge that felt wrong in a way neither of them trusted.The chapel ruins stood ahead again—darker now, emptier, like whatever life had once touched it had been stripped away completely.“This is too clean,” Nyra muttered.Sebastian didn’t respond.He was already scanning—angles, shadows, distance.Calculating.Always calculating.But tonight, something underneath that precision felt… off.Not fear.Something closer to it.“Viktor doesn’t repeat locations without changing the rules,” she added.“He’s not repeating,” Sebastian said quietly. “He’s finishing.”That word settled heavily between them.Finishing.Nyra looked at him then.Really looked.“You’re thinking about that message.”“Yes.”Midnight ends with one of you.She stepped closer, lowering her voice.“We’re not splitting.”“We might have to.”“No.”“Nyra—”“No.” Her tone sharpened. “That’s exactly what he wants. Separation. Weakn
They didn’t speak on the way down the ridge.The storm had softened into a steady fall, but the cold felt sharper now, cutting through layers that hadn’t mattered an hour ago. Snow crunched under their boots in a rhythm that should have been familiar, grounding.It wasn’t.Because something had shifted.And neither of them was pretending it hadn’t.Sebastian walked half a step ahead, scanning the slope, his focus locked on the terrain like always—but not quite as steady. Nyra noticed the slight delay in his reactions, the way his hand tightened once around his weapon before relaxing again.Control, she realized, was something he was actively rebuilding.Not something he currently had.The kiss had done that.Or maybe the kiss had simply exposed what had already been unraveling.Behind them, Sebastian’s men secured the chapel, voices low, movements efficient. Viktor was gone again. No trail. No body. Just the echo of his presence, lingering like smoke.Nyra slowed slightly, matching Se
The message stayed between them long after the phone screen went dark.You missed the traitor.Nyra read it again, then handed the phone back without speaking.The breakfast room suddenly felt smaller.Every sound sharpened—the scrape of cutlery, footsteps in the corridor, the low crackle of the fireplace at the far end.Someone inside the lodge.Someone close enough to watch them move.Sebastian slipped the phone into his coat pocket, his face unreadable again.But Nyra knew that look now.He was not calm.He was calculating how many people he would have to suspect before trust became impossible.Noelle continued eating, though slower now, sensing the shift even if she did not understand all of it.“You both do that thing again,” she said quietly.Sebastian looked at her. “What thing?”“The silent angry thing.”Nyra leaned back slightly. “That’s mostly him.”“That’s both of you,” Noelle corrected.Sebastian exhaled through his nose and stood.“To your room.”Noelle frowned. “Again?”
Morning came slowly, hidden behind thick clouds and relentless snow.The lodge looked peaceful from the outside again—white rooftops, silent trees, smoke rising from chimneys—but inside, no one believed in peace anymore.Security had doubled.Every entrance was watched.Every guest had been quietly moved to the lower wing under the excuse of storm safety, though fear had already spread enough that nobody questioned the sudden rules.Sebastian had not slept.Nyra knew because she had not slept either.At dawn, she found him in the main hall, standing near the tall windows, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cup of coffee he had not touched.The Christmas tree lights reflected faintly across the glass beside him.He looked as if he belonged nowhere near warmth.“You should at least pretend to drink it,” Nyra said as she approached.Without turning, he replied, “You should stop walking silently.”“I wasn’t walking silently. You were thinking too loudly.”That made him glance at
By the time they returned to the lodge, the storm had grown heavier.Snow pressed hard against the windows, blurring the outside world into white and shadow. Inside, the building no longer felt festive. The Christmas lights still glowed, but now they looked misplaced—soft decorations in a place where too many people had already bled.Noelle had fallen asleep halfway down the corridor.Sebastian carried her without a word, her head resting against his shoulder, one mitten still missing, her small hand curled against his shirt as if even in sleep she refused to let go completely.Nyra walked beside him, silent.The adrenaline had faded enough for pain to settle into her arm again, dull and persistent under the bandage. But she barely noticed it.Her mind stayed on Leon’s smile before the explosion.Closer than you think.That was not the confidence of a man bluffing.Sebastian reached his suite and pushed the door open carefully.He laid Noelle on the bed, pulled the blanket over her, a
For one second, neither of them moved.The empty room seemed unreal, as if Noelle might suddenly appear from behind the curtains laughing at her own joke.But the overturned chair near the fireplace said otherwise.One of the curtains had been pulled halfway down, and beside the window, a small red mitten lay on the floor.Noelle’s mitten.Sebastian crossed the room in two strides and picked it up.His hand closed around it so tightly that his knuckles whitened.Nyra watched him carefully. His face had gone still in a way that was more alarming than anger.“Sebastian,” she said quietly.He didn’t answer.The silence around him felt sharp enough to cut.Then he lifted his phone again and reread the message.Midnight mass wasn’t the event. It was the invitation.He inhaled once, slowly.When he finally spoke, his voice was frighteningly calm.“They had people inside before the shooting began.”Nyra moved toward the window. Outside, snow fell harder now, thick white sheets swallowing the
“You’re staring at each other again.”Noelle’s small voice cut through the thick silence.Sebastian stepped back immediately, releasing Nyra’s arm as if he’d been caught doing something forbidden.Nyra straightened, ignoring the sting in her grazed arm. “We’re not.”“You are,” Noelle insisted. “Lik
Sebastian Volkov sat in the lodge office, eyes fixed on the glowing screen of his phone. The message from earlier wasn’t just a warning—it was a challenge. Whoever was behind it knew he was in Aspen, knew about the neutral ground rules, and was daring him to slip.“This Christmas, you won't get awa
Sebastian Volkov never thought he would spend Christmas Eve crouched behind a candy-cane-striped vendor stall, staring at his rival while his daughter built a snow fort out of discarded crates and leftover snow.Yet, here he was.Nyra Valen, leaning lazily against the stall, her rifle pointed vague
The crack of gunfire echoed across the snow-covered lodge grounds, splitting the serene morning like a lightning bolt. Sebastian Volkov barely had time to register the sound before instinct took over. He shoved Noelle to the ground behind a decorative ice sculpture shaped like a reindeer. Snow spra







