The Tree

They were herded. The mercenaries were professional—they cut off the exits, forcing Dante and Alexei upward, into the main Atrium.

The Atrium was a cavernous space dominated by a twenty-foot spruce tree, decorated with gold and silver glass ornaments. The only light came from the moon filtering through the storm outside.

Dante pulled Alexei behind the thick trunk of the tree. They were cornered. The mezzanine railing was behind them—a thirty-foot drop into a snowbank.

"End of the line," a voice boomed.

The Leader stepped out from the shadows. He was massive, his face scarred, a pistol leveled at Dante’s chest. Two other men flanked him.

"Hand over the boy," the Leader said. "And I might let you bleed out quickly."

Dante tried to raise his arm, but his shoulder was screaming in pain. He had no weapon. He was a shield with nothing left to block with.

"Don't hurt him!" Alexei shouted.

The Prince stepped out from behind the tree, moving in front of Dante.

"Alexei, no!" Dante hissed, trying to grab him.

Alexei held up the red-wrapped box. "You want money? The ransom? This is worth more."

The Leader paused. Greed flickered in his eyes. "What is it?"

"A Fabergé egg," Alexei lied smoothly. "My grandmother’s. Take it. Just let us go."

He tossed the box.

It sailed through the air, a perfect arc. The Leader caught it reflexively.

"Smart boy," the Leader sneered. He looked down at the box.

Alexei smirked. "Merry Christmas."

He pressed a button on his watch.

The box didn't explode with fire. It exploded with sound.

* SCREEEEEEEEE!*

It was a sonic alarm, rigged to a compressed air canister and a packet of ultra-fine glitter. The sound was a localized thunderclap, 160 decibels of high-frequency agony.

The Leader screamed, dropping his gun and clutching his ears as a cloud of silver glitter blinded him. The other two mercenaries stumbled back, disoriented by the acoustic blast.

Dante moved on instinct. He launched himself at the Leader. He tackled the blinded man, driving his shoulder into the man’s gut. The momentum carried them both over the low railing of the mezzanine.

They fell.

Dante kicked off the Leader’s chest in mid-air, twisting his body. The Leader hit the concrete coping of the patio below with a sickening crunch. Dante landed in the deep drift of the snowbank, the powder cushioning the impact.

Silence returned to the Atrium, ringing in Dante’s ears.