LOGINSebastian 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 vaguely toward the treeline, smiled at him with one eyebrow raised. “You really don’t know how to relax, do you?” “I know how to survive,” Sebastian growled. “Relaxing gets people killed.” Nyra’s lips curved. “And yet, you just smiled at me when Noelle called us superheroes.” Sebastian blinked. “…That was tactical. For morale purposes.” “Sure,” she said, tilting her head. “Tactical.” Noelle had vanished behind her snow fortress, emerging moments later with a stick in her hand, which she waved like a sword. “I’m General Noelle,” she announced. “Defender of Snowtopia. You cannot attack without my permission.” Sebastian’s chest tightened. He glanced at Nyra. “She’s… quite something.” Nyra snorted. “You mean terrifying. And brilliant.” Noelle pointed her stick at them. “And dangerous. Don’t forget dangerous.” Sebastian crouched next to her. “Dangerous enough to survive a snowball war and a gunfight.” “Exactly!” Noelle said. “Now, Daddy… you and Nyra have to make a truce.” Sebastian froze. Nyra blinked at the child. “You want us to make a truce?” “Yes,” Noelle said firmly. “Otherwise, I have to fight both of you at once, and I am very strong.” Sebastian stared. “…She’s probably right.” Nyra laughed. “I think she is. Okay, truce. Temporarily.” Sebastian muttered under his breath. “I hate temporary.” Nyra smirked. “That’s the fun part.” Minutes later, a loud crash echoed from the nearby gift shop. Sebastian and Nyra sprang into action, weapons drawn. Snow sprayed under their boots as they charged toward the noise. Inside, a man in black tactical gear was attempting to stuff crates of decorations into a suspiciously large bag. He froze when he saw the two mafia bosses—yes, bosses—charging at him. Sebastian fired a warning shot into the ceiling. “Step away from the Christmas ornaments!” Nyra rolled her eyes. “You really do make everything dramatic.” The man panicked, dropping the bag and bolting toward the door. Nyra fired a quick shot that clipped his jacket, sending him stumbling face-first into a pile of gift-wrapped boxes. Noelle appeared behind them, waving her stick like a baton. “That’s what you get for ruining Snowtopia!” Sebastian groaned. “She’s developing an unhealthy sense of justice.” Nyra crouched beside him, whispering, “You think she’s cute. Admit it.” Sebastian glared. “She’s terrifying.” Nyra grinned. “And you love it.” He shot her a look that could have frozen water mid-air. Nyra, of course, found it hilarious. Outside, the snowstorm had picked up, the sky gray and heavy with falling snow. Noelle was tugging at their sleeves, insisting on a “victory lap” around the lodge. “Victory lap?” Sebastian asked, voice dripping with suspicion. “Yes,” Noelle said. “You and Nyra. You survived together. Everyone sees it. It’s a tradition.” Sebastian stared at her. “There is no such tradition in any survival handbook.” Nyra laughed again. “She’s right. Sort of. Come on, Grinch, you’re missing the point.” Sebastian hesitated, then finally allowed himself to be dragged across the snowy courtyard, Noelle bounding ahead like a miniature general. Nyra walked beside him, her red coat brushing against his sleeve every so often. “You’re warm,” he muttered, voice tight. Nyra tilted her head, her smirk playful. “You mean hot?” “I meant—Never mind,” he snapped, suddenly embarrassed. Noelle turned around. “I think you’re flirting!” Sebastian choked on the snow in his mouth. Nyra laughed so hard she fell into a snowbank. Sebastian helped her up. “…This is ridiculous.” “Yes,” Nyra said, brushing off snow. “And yet… I’m enjoying it.” Sebastian grit his teeth. “…Don’t enjoy it.” She winked. “I already am.” They returned to the lodge as evening fell. The interior glowed with warm light and holiday decorations, but the calm was deceptive. Sebastian’s phone buzzed again—another message. “Stop hiding. You can’t protect everyone.” Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Nyra saw it instantly. “What is it?” she asked quietly. “Another warning,” he said. “We’re being watched.” Nyra smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought Christmas was supposed to be peaceful.” Sebastian didn’t answer. Noelle, oblivious to the tension, climbed onto the counter and grabbed a candy cane. “Do you want one, Nyra?” Nyra chuckled, taking it. “Sure.” Sebastian muttered, “This is absurd.” Nyra leaned toward him, whispering: “You’re ridiculous. I like that.” He wanted to argue—but then another crash came from the balcony. Both of them spun around. A masked figure was climbing the railing, seemingly unafraid of the snowy drop below. “Really?” Sebastian hissed. “On Christmas Eve?” “Yes,” Nyra said calmly, drawing her gun. “It seems they don’t respect holidays. Or… us.” Noelle gasped. “Daddy, you have to stop them! For Snowtopia!” Sebastian glared at her. “I am stopping them, general!” They moved together—careful, coordinated, yet still arguing under their breath. “Left flank!” Sebastian barked. “You said right!” Nyra shot back. “Right for your heart! Left for the threat!” Nyra rolled her eyes and fired. The masked intruder stumbled. Sebastian lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar. Noelle cheered. “Victory! I told you, superheroes!” Sebastian sighed. “…I can’t believe this is happening.” Nyra, crouching beside him, whispered, “Believe it. And thank me later.” Sebastian glared. “Don’t. Ever. Thank me.” Nyra smirked. “Sure thing… Grinch.” Hours later, as the snowstorm quieted and the lodge settled into a tense calm, Sebastian and Nyra finally sat across from each other, sharing a single cup of steaming cocoa. Noelle was asleep nearby, exhausted from her day of chaos and “strategic supervision.” Sebastian stared into his drink, silently acknowledging that this Christmas might be the most chaotic—and strangely meaningful—one he had ever spent. Nyra tilted her head. “You know,” she said softly, “we make a good team when we’re not yelling at each other.” Sebastian didn’t answer. He couldn’t. She continued, teasing lightly, “And when we are yelling, it’s… entertaining.” Sebastian’s jaw twitched. “…You enjoy this too much.” “I enjoy it enough,” she said, smiling, “to make sure you survive tomorrow.” His eyes flicked to hers. “…Why?” “Because I like you,” she said simply. “…And I like Snowtopia too much to see it ruined.” Sebastian’s heart skipped, but he refused to look at her. “…That’s… not logical.” “Life isn’t always logical, Sebastian,” she replied, eyes glinting. Before he could respond, a soft buzz came from his phone—a new message: “Merry Christmas, Volkov. This is only the beginning.” Sebastian froze. Nyra’s smirk returned, but it didn’t hide the worry in her eyes. “Looks like Christmas isn’t over yet.” Noelle stirred, mumbling in her sleep: “Superheroes… save… Snowtopia…” Sebastian glanced at her, then at Nyra, then back at the phone. “…We’ll see about that,” he muttered. The fire crackled, snow fell quietly outside, but Sebastian Volkov knew one thing: this Christmas, chaos wasn’t just coming—it had already arrived.“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. “Like in the movies before they kiss.”Sebastian cleared his throat. “Enough.”Sirens wailed outside the lodge. Guests were being ushered away, security shouting instructions. The scent of gunpowder still hung in the air, mixing with pine and melted wax from fallen candles.Nyra pressed her fingers against her sleeve. Blood. Not deep. But it had been close.Too close.Sebastian noticed. His jaw tightened.“Come with me,” he said.“That sounded like an order.”“It is.”She almost argued.Almost.But the tremor she felt under her skin wasn’t from fear. It was from adrenaline—and something else she didn’t want to name.He took Noelle’s hand with one hand and guided Nyra with the other, firm but car
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 away.”He scowled. His instincts screamed danger. His rational brain screamed danger squared. And yet, a small, exasperated voice interrupted him:“Daddy!”He looked up. Noelle was standing in the doorway, clutching a stuffed reindeer that looked far too big for her arms. Snowflakes stuck to her eyelashes like tiny sparkles.“Yes, Noelle?” he asked, trying to sound calm while calculating which exit led to the least danger.“I… I think we need a plan,” she said seriously. “For Snowtopia.”Sebastian blinked. “…Snowtopia?”“No, you don’t get it,” she said, stepping forward. “The threat. The bad people. The snowstorm. It’s all connected! We need strategies!”Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose
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 vaguely toward the treeline, smiled at him with one eyebrow raised. “You really don’t know how to relax, do you?”“I know how to survive,” Sebastian growled. “Relaxing gets people killed.”Nyra’s lips curved. “And yet, you just smiled at me when Noelle called us superheroes.”Sebastian blinked. “…That was tactical. For morale purposes.”“Sure,” she said, tilting her head. “Tactical.”Noelle had vanished behind her snow fortress, emerging moments later with a stick in her hand, which she waved like a sword. “I’m General Noelle,” she announced. “Defender of Snowtopia. You cannot attack without my permission.”Sebastian’s chest tightened. He glanced at Nyra. “She’s… quite something.”Nyra snorted. “
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 sprayed into the air as she landed with an undignified “oof.”“Daddy!” she shrieked. “What’s happening?”“Stay down,” Sebastian growled, rolling over to cover her. His eyes darted to Nyra, who was already scanning the perimeter, a small pistol in hand—tenser than anyone should ever be before breakfast.“You always bring a gun to coffee?” Sebastian asked, his voice low, tight, but almost amused.Nyra’s lips curved slightly. “You really shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.”He scowled. “I want the answer.”“You wouldn’t like it,” she said, snapping off a shot that sent a ricochet over the snow. “Besides, my coffee is stronger than your coffee.”Sebastian stared. Somehow, she’d mad
Sebastian Volkov woke up at exactly 5:32 a.m. with the distinct feeling that something in the universe had gone terribly wrong.This was unusual, because his instincts were rarely wrong and never dramatic.Today, they were screaming.He sat up in bed, scanning the dark cabin. Snow tapped softly against the window. The fireplace had burned low. No gunfire. No alarms. No screaming men.Still wrong.Then he heard it.“Daaaaddyyyy.”Sebastian closed his eyes.“No,” he muttered. “Absolutely not.”The door creaked open.Noelle padded in wearing reindeer pajamas that blinked. Literally blinked. Red lights flashed on her chest like a distress signal.“I’m hungry,” she announced.“It’s before sunrise.”“So?” She shrugged. “Santa eats cookies at night.”Sebastian rubbed his face. “We are not Santa.”“No, but we’re close,” she said confidently. “He lives in cold places too.”Sebastian gave up.Twenty minutes later, they were in the lodge cafeteria. Noelle had hot chocolate. Sebastian had black c
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







