MasukSebastian 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.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







