BREACH

Katya was alive.

Anya held her sister in the back of the extraction vehicle, stolen SUV, courtesy of Nikolai's chaos, and tried to process. They'd done it. Against impossible odds. Against everything.

They'd won.

Except Eleanor's message glowed on her phone. A reminder that this wasn't over. That the real game was just beginning.

"She okay?" Dimitri asked from the front seat.

Driving too fast on icy roads. Not caring.

"Unconscious. They sedated her. But vitals are good. Strong." Anya checked the IV site where they'd been pumping god-knows-what into her sister. "We'll need a real doctor. Someone who can run tests. Make sure the hormones haven't..."

"We have a doctor," Nikolai interrupted. "Dimitri's contact in Anchorage. Former military. Discrete. She'll check Katya. Make sure she's clean."

Good. That was good.

Anya looked down at her sister. Younger. Thinner. Traumatized. But alive. Safe. Free.

Worth it. All of it, the pain, the fear, the impossible choices, worth it for this moment.

The bond pulsed. Dimitri's relief bleeding through. His joy that they'd succeeded. His exhaustion finally catching up.

"We need to rest," she said. "All of us. Before we deal with Eleanor."

"Agreed." Dimitri took a corner too fast. The SUV fishtailed. Corrected. "There's a cabin. Remote. Off-grid. We can hole up there. Plan our next move."

The cabin was perfect. Small. Isolated. No neighbors for miles. The kind of place you disappeared to when the world wanted you dead.

They carried Katya inside. Laid her on the bed. Anya checked her vitals again. Still good. Still stable.

"She'll wake up soon," Nikolai said. He was checking windows. Securing entry points. Habits from years of running. "When she does, she'll be scared. Confused. You should be here."

"I will be."

Dimitri appeared with a medical kit. "Let me see your leg."

Right. She'd been shot. Adrenaline had made her forget. Now, sitting, the pain came roaring back.

She pulled up her pant leg. The wound was ugly.

Through and through. Clean but bleeding.

Dimitri worked in silence. Cleaning. Stitching. His hands steady despite exhaustion. Despite his own wounds.

"You're good at this," she said.

"Practice. Years of patching up Alexei and Nikolai after they did something stupid."

"Like jumping out of a plane."

He smiled. Small. "Exactly like that."

The stitches pulled. She hissed. He paused. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Keep going."

He finished. Bandaged. Looked up at her. "We should talk about Eleanor's message."

"Later. After we rest."

"Anya..."

"Dimitri." She touched his face. "We just fought through thirty-plus hostiles. Infiltrated a CIA black site. Rescued my sister from a hybrid program. We're allowed to rest."

"Eleanor won't wait."

"Then she can wait impatiently." Anya stood. Tested the leg. Held. Good enough. "Come on. Katya's stable. Nikolai's on watch. We have maybe six hours before we need to move. Let's use them."

She pulled him to the small bedroom. Closed the door. Locked it.

Dimitri watched her. Eyes dark. Knowing. "We should sleep."

"We should." She started unbuttoning her shirt. "But I need you first."

Heat. Instant. All-consuming. The bond sang between them, need and want and the desperate desire to affirm life after dancing with death.

"Anya..."

"Please." She let the shirt fall. Standing in just her bra and torn pants. Vulnerable. Exposed. "I need to feel you. Need to remember we're alive."

He crossed to her. Fast. Claiming. His mouth on hers, hot, demanding, making her gasp. His hands everywhere, pulling her close, tearing away barriers, finding skin.

"We should be gentle," he said against her throat. "You're hurt. We're both..."

"I don't want gentle." She grabbed his shirt.

Yanked. Buttons scattered. "I want you. Hard. Now."

The growl that came from his throat was pure alpha. Pure mate. Pure possession.

He lifted her. Pressed her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around him automatically. The position pressed her wound. Pain mixed with pleasure into something overwhelming.

"Tell me to stop," he said. "Tell me if it's too much."

"Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."

His hands made quick work of her remaining clothes. Then his. Skin to skin. The bond flaring between them, no suppressants, no barriers, just pure connection.

He pushed inside. One hard thrust. Filling her. Claiming her. Making good on every promise.

She cried out. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. He stilled. "Too much?"

"Not enough. More. Please, more."

He gave her more. Hard. Fast. The coupling of mates who'd survived hell. Who'd fought and bled and killed to stay together.

The bond exploded. She felt everything, his love, his need, his absolute certainty that she was his. Forever. No taking back. No walking away.

She came first. Screaming. Nails digging into his shoulders. The orgasm tearing through her like lightning.

He followed. Buried deep. Marking her. Claiming her. Making sure every cell in her body knew who she belonged to.

They stayed like that. Connected. Breathing hard. The bond humming with satisfaction.

"I love you," he whispered. "My Luna. My mate. My everything."

"I love you too." She kissed him. Soft. Sweet. "My alpha. My home."

He carried her to the bed. Laid her down. Curled around her, protective, possessive, perfect.

"Six hours," he said. "Then we deal with Eleanor."

"Six hours," she agreed.

They slept. Deep. Dreamless. The sleep of warriors who'd earned their rest.

Anya woke to screaming.

She was moving before consciousness fully returned. Gun in hand. Door open. Dimitri right behind her.

The screaming was coming from Katya's room.

Anya burst in. Found her sister thrashing. Still unconscious but fighting, fighting whatever nightmares the drugs had given her.

"Katya!" Anya grabbed her shoulders. "Katya, wake up. You're safe. You're..."

Her sister's eyes snapped open. Wild. Terrified. She looked at Anya without recognition. Without,

Then focus returned. "Anya?"

"I'm here. I'm here. You're safe."

Katya grabbed her. Held on like a drowning person. Sobbing. "They were going to...they said...the program..."

"I know. But we stopped them. You're safe now."

"The men. The alphas. They said I'd be..."

"Not happening. Never happening. I've got you."

Katya cried. Hard. Releasing ten years of fear and trauma. Anya held her. Let her sister break. Let her feel safe enough to shatter.

Dimitri watched from the doorway. Silent.

Understanding.

When Katya finally quieted, Anya pulled back. "Katya, these are..."

"The Volkov brothers." Her sister's voice was small. Scared. "CIA showed me photos. Said you were infiltrating them. That you'd kill them. That it was your mission."

Anya felt Dimitri tense. Felt the bond pull tight.

"It was my mission," she said carefully. "But I chose them instead. Chose to be pack. Chose..." She looked at Dimitri. "...to be mated."

Katya's eyes widened. "Mated? You're bonded to..."

She looked at Dimitri. At the alpha who'd helped save her. "You?"

"Me," Dimitri confirmed. Gentle. Non-threatening. "Your sister is my mate. My Luna. Which makes you pack by extension. Under our protection."

"Pack." Katya tested the word. "I don't understand."

"You will." Anya smiled. "We have time. All the time you need."

Except they didn't. Eleanor's deadline was ticking. Twenty-four hours to meet her. To face whatever final game she'd planned.

Dimitri's phone rang. He checked it. Frowned. "It's Marcus. Our pilot."

He answered. Listened. His face went carefully blank.

"I understand. Yes. Twenty-four hours." He ended the call. Looked at Anya. "We have a problem."

"What kind?"

"Eleanor found our pilot. Found everyone we've hired. Everyone we've contacted. She's threatening them. Their families. Says if we don't show up to her coordinates in twenty-four hours, she starts killing civilians."

Fuck.

"She's forcing our hand," Nikolai said. He'd appeared in the doorway. "Making sure we come. Making sure we..."

"Walk into her trap. Yes." Anya looked at the coordinates Eleanor had sent. Middle of nowhere. Perfect ambush site. "She's smart. I'll give her that."

"So what do we do?" Dimitri asked.

Anya studied the map. The terrain. The approach vectors. Her tactical brain spinning through possibilities.

Then she smiled. Cold. "We spring the trap. But on our terms."

She pulled out her phone. Started making calls. To her old contacts. To the PMC that had extracted Alexei. To people who owed her favors she'd been saving for emergencies.

This qualified.

Four hours later, they had a plan. Insane. Suicidal. Brilliant.

"We split up," Anya explained. Using the map. Showing approach vectors. "Dimitri and I go to Eleanor's coordinates. Meet her. Play along."

"That's suicide," Katya said. She'd been listening. Processing. Understanding more than Anya expected.

"Maybe. But while we're distracting Eleanor, Nikolai leads an assault team." She pointed to terrain features. "Hit her from behind. Cut off her escape. Trap the trapper."

"She'll have forces," Nikolai said. "She always does."

"So do we. PMC confirmed. Twenty operators. Armed. Trained. Ready to fuck up some CIA."

"Twenty against however many Eleanor has."

Dimitri looked at her. "Still not great odds."

"No. But better than going alone." She met his eyes. Let him feel her certainty through the bond. "We can do this. We can end her. End all of it."

Silence. Then Dimitri nodded. "Okay. We do it your way."

They prepped. Weapons check. Gear stowed. Plans refined. The choreography of violence perfected over hours of planning.

Katya watched. Silent. Taking it all in.

"You're really going to fight the CIA," she said finally.

"Yes," Anya replied.

"That's insane."

"Probably."

"But you're doing it anyway."

"For you. For pack. For..." Anya looked at Dimitri. "For family."

Katya was quiet. Then: "Can I help?"

"No. Absolutely not. You just got out of..."

"I can shoot. Dad taught me before..." She stopped. Swallowed. "Before he died. I'm not helpless."

"Katya..."

"Please." Her sister's eyes were determined. Strong. "They took ten years from me. Let me take something back."

Anya looked at Dimitri. The bond carried his opinion, let her. Let her choose. Let her be more than a victim.

"Okay," Anya said. "You can help. But you stay with Nikolai. You follow orders. You do exactly what he says. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." She pulled out a spare Glock. Handed it to her sister. "Welcome to the family business."

They moved out at dawn. Two teams. One purpose.

End this. Or die trying.

Anya and Dimitri took the direct route. Driving toward Eleanor's coordinates. The trap waiting. The final confrontation.

"You know we're probably going to die," Dimitri said.

"You keep saying that."

"Because it keeps being true."

She laughed. "Then let's make it memorable."

They arrived at the coordinates. A clearing. Snow and ice. Empty except for one figure.

Eleanor Voss. Standing alone. Smiling.

"Agent Volkov," she called. "How punctual. And you brought your alpha. How romantic."

Anya and Dimitri got out of the vehicle. Weapons visible but not raised. Non-threatening. Playing along.

"You wanted to talk," Anya said. "So talk."

"I wanted to offer you one final chance. Join us. Work with us. Help us build something better than the chaos you've been living in."

"Pass."

"You haven't heard my offer."

"Don't need to. Whatever it is, the answer is no."

Eleanor's smile faded. "You're making a mistake."

"Probably. I make a lot of those."

"This one will get you killed."

"Maybe. But at least I'll die on my feet. Not on my knees serving someone else's agenda."

Eleanor studied her. "You really chose them. Chose this pack. Chose to throw away everything you were for...what? Love?"

"Yes," Anya said simply. "For love. For family. For belonging. For everything you'll never understand."

"How disappointing." Eleanor raised her hand. Signaled.

Armed operatives appeared from the trees. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. More than intelligence suggested. Way more.

"You walked into my trap," Eleanor said. "Just like I knew you would. Because you're predictable. Emotional. Weak."

"Am I?" Anya smiled. "Or did you walk into mine?"

She keyed her comm. "Nikolai. Now."

Explosions. Behind Eleanor's position. Shaped charges placed days ago by Anya's PMC contacts. The ones who'd been watching. Waiting. Preparing.

Eleanor's forces were caught in crossfire. PMC operators appearing from nowhere. Engaging.

The clearing becoming hell.

"You bitch," Eleanor hissed.

"I learned from the best." Anya's gun came up. "You taught me to always have a backup plan. To never trust anyone. To think three moves ahead."

She smiled. "I'm a very good student."

Eleanor moved. Fast. Professional. Not toward Anya but away. Toward an escape vehicle Anya hadn't seen. Hidden. Ready.

But Dimitri was faster. He tackled Eleanor before she reached the car. Slammed her into the snow. His hand at her throat.

"No," Anya said. "Don't kill her."

Dimitri looked back. "Why not?"

"Because I want her to see. Want her to watch her operation burn. Want her to live with the knowledge that she lost."

She pulled out a USB drive. The one her hacker had prepared. Everything. Every name. Every operation. Every dirty secret Eleanor's network had accumulated.

"I'm releasing this," Anya said. "To every news organization. Every intelligence agency. Every person who has reason to hate the CIA. Your network? Dead. Your puppet masters? Exposed. Everything you built? Ashes."

Eleanor stared at the drive. At her life's work about to be destroyed. "You can't."

"Watch me."

Anya uploaded the files. Right there. Using satellite connection. Sending them everywhere.

Viral in sixty seconds.

Eleanor's empire burned while she watched.

"It's over," Anya said. "You lost."

The fight around them was ending. Eleanor's forces surrendering or dying. The PMC operators securing the area. Professional. Efficient.

Nikolai appeared. Bloody but smiling. "We got them all. Katya's safe. Alexei's stable. We won, sestra."

Sister. He'd called her sister.

Pack.

Anya looked at Dimitri. At the alpha who'd chosen her. Who'd fought for her. Who'd become everything.

"What now?" she asked.

"Now?" He pulled her close. Despite the blood.

Despite the bodies. Despite everything. "Now we go home. Together. As pack. As family."

"Where's home?"

"Wherever we are." He kissed her. "That's home."

The bond sang. Perfect. Complete. Unbreakable.

They'd survived. Against impossible odds. Against everything.

They'd won.

And it was only the beginning.