ESCAPE OR STAY

The safe house was burning.

Not literally. But it might as well have been. Every instinct Anya had, ten years of training, a hundred close calls, the survival reflexes that had kept her alive, screamed at her to run.

Leave. Disappear. Take Katya and vanish into the wind before Eleanor's deadline arrived.

Instead, she was watching Dimitri clean his weapons.

"You should eat," he said without looking up. The bond hummed between them, completed, permanent, a constant presence under her skin. She felt his exhaustion. His determination. The alpha certainty that he'd win or die trying.

"Not hungry."

"Liar." He looked up then. Those dark eyes seeing too much. "I can feel you, remember? Feel the hunger. The fear. The way you're calculating escape routes."

Fuck the bond.

"Can you blame me?" She moved to the window. Watched the street below. "Eleanor has resources we can't match. She's CIA-backed, possibly sanctioned at the highest levels. She's already proved she can find us. Hunt us. Kill us."

"So we run."

She turned. Stared at him. "What?"

"You heard me." Dimitri set down the gun. Stood. Moved toward her with that predator grace that made her omega sit up and beg. "We run. Take Katya. Disappear. I have money. Resources. We could be on a plane to somewhere remote in two hours."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?" He crowded her against the wall. Not threatening. Just... there. Solid. Real. "You've been pack for three hours. That's not long enough to die for."

The bond pulsed. She felt his lie. Felt the truth underneath, he'd die for her right now. Today. Without hesitation.

"You're testing me," she said.

"Maybe." His hand found her jaw. Tilted her face up. "Or maybe I'm giving you the out you've been looking for since the moment the bond completed."

Had she been looking for an out?

Yes. And no. And fuck, she didn't know anymore.

"My sister is safe," Anya said quietly. "That was the goal. Get Katya out. The rest... the rest is just cleanup."

"Cleanup that might get you killed."

"I've accepted worse odds."

"Not as my mate." His thumb traced her lower lip. The touch sent heat spiraling through her. "Not as Luna. You're pack now, Anya. Which means your life matters to more than just you."

The weight of that, of belonging, of mattering, of being part of something larger, nearly broke her.

"I don't know how to do this," she whispered. "Be pack. Be Luna. Be anything other than a weapon."

"Learn." He leaned in. Close enough that she felt his breath. "With us. We'll figure it out together."

"What if I can't?"

"Then we fail together." Simple. Absolute. "But we don't run. That's not who we are."

Footsteps. Alexei in the doorway, tactical vest already on. "Hate to interrupt the moment, but we have a problem."

Dimitri didn't move away. Didn't break eye contact. "What problem?"

"Eleanor moved up her timeline. We don't have twelve hours anymore. We have six. Meeting's at dawn. And she's not coming alone."

Anya felt the bottom drop out. "How many?"

"Satellite imagery shows thirty vehicles. Maybe more. She's bringing an army."

"Fuck." Dimitri finally stepped back. All business now. Alpha mode. "We can't fight those numbers."

"We could run," Nikolai said from behind Alexei. He was checking his rifle, movements automatic. "Like you said. Disappear. Live to fight another day."

The brothers looked at her. Waiting. This was her choice. Her call.

Luna.

Anya thought about Eleanor. About the hybrid program. About the women, omegas like her, being bred like animals. About the network Eleanor was building, the puppet strings she was pulling.

Thought about what would happen if they ran. If they let Eleanor win.

Someone else would die. Someone else's sister. Someone else's life destroyed.

"We don't run," she said. Her voice was steady. Final. "We fight."

"Anya..." Dimitri started.

"No." She looked at him. At his brothers. At her pack. "We don't run. We set the terms. We choose the battlefield. And we end this. Tonight."

Alexei smiled. Sharp. Dangerous. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"You have a plan?" Nikolai asked.

"Working on it." She moved to the table. Pulled up maps on her phone. "Eleanor wants us at the port. Wants to control the engagement. Dictate terms."

"So we don't go to the port," Dimitri finished.

"We go somewhere else. Somewhere we control. Somewhere with..." She stopped. Stared at the map. "The brewery. Where Pavel was held. It's abandoned. Industrial. Multiple entry points and exits."

"Eleanor will just follow us there," Alexei pointed out.

"Exactly." Anya smiled. Cold. Predatory. "We let her think she's chasing us. Let her commit her forces. Then we turn it into a killbox."

"With thirty-plus hostiles?" Nikolai shook his head. "Even with prep time, those odds are shit."

"Then we get help." Anya pulled out her phone. Started typing. "I know people. People who owe me favors. People who hate the CIA as much as we do."

"Who?" Dimitri demanded.

"You don't want to know."

"Anya..."

She looked at him. Let him feel it through the bond, her determination, her ruthlessness, the operator she'd been trained to be. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then let me do this. Let me be what I was trained to be. Just this once. Then I'll learn to be Luna. But right now..." She held his gaze. "Right now I need to be the weapon."

Silence. Then Dimitri nodded. "Make your calls."

She did. Three calls. Three favors called in. Three very dangerous people who agreed to be at the brewery in four hours.

Then her phone rang. Unknown number.

She answered. "Yes?"

"Agent Volkov." Stevens' voice. Smug. Satisfied. "How's the family reunion going?"

Her blood went cold. "What do you want?"

"To offer you one last chance. Meet us. Alone. Surrender quietly. And your sister walks away. You have my word."

"Your word means nothing."

"Maybe. But consider the alternative. You fight. You die. And Katya goes right back into the program. Only this time, there's no rescue. No heroic sister saving the day. Just a scared omega being bred by alphas who'll break her."

Rage. White-hot. All-consuming.

"I'm going to kill you," Anya said quietly. "Slowly. I'm going to make you beg."

"Bold words from someone who's outnumbered thirty to one." Stevens laughed. "See you at dawn, Agent. Come alone. Or watch everyone you love die."

The line went dead.

Anya stood there. Phone in hand. Shaking. Not from fear. From fury.

Dimitri was there. His hands on her shoulders. His scent, alpha and pack and home, surrounding her. "What did he say?"

"Nothing I didn't expect." She turned in his arms. Looked up at him. "They want me alone. Surrender or they kill everyone."

"Fuck that."

"Agreed." She pressed closer. Felt his heat. His strength. Felt the bond singing between them, completed, permanent, unbreakable. "But they're right about one thing. I need to appear to comply."

"Anya..."

"Listen." She put her hand over his mouth. Felt him growl against her palm. "I walk in alone. Let them think I'm surrendering. Then you and your brothers hit them from behind. Crossfire.

Confusion. We cut down their numbers before they realize what's happening."

"That's suicide."

"That's tactics." She pulled her hand away. "Trust me. I've done this before."

"Not as my mate." He grabbed her hips. Pulled her flush against him. "Not when losing you would break me."

The bond flared. She felt his fear. His love, raw, new, overwhelming. Felt how much she'd already become part of him.

"You won't lose me," she said.

"Promise."

"I..." She stopped. Because she couldn't promise that. Couldn't guarantee survival when the odds were so stacked against them.

"Promise," he repeated. His voice rough. Desperate. "Promise you'll come back to me."

"I promise to fight like hell."

"Not good enough."

"It's all I have."

He kissed her then. Hard. Claiming. The kiss of an alpha who'd found his mate and refused to let her go. She melted into it, into him, let the bond pull her under.

His hands slid under her shirt. Found skin. She gasped against his mouth, heat pooling low in her belly. Wrong time. Wrong place. They had hours until dawn, until the fight that might kill them all.

Dimitri pulled back. Breathing hard. His eyes dark with want. "After."

"After?"

"After we survive this. After we kill Eleanor and her soldiers. After we're safe." He traced her collarbone. Down. Lower. "I'm going to take you apart. Slowly. Make you scream my name. Make you forget you were ever anything but mine."

Heat. God. She was burning.

"Promises, Pakhan."

"Not promises. Guarantees." He stepped back. Left her aching. "Now go make your preparations. We have a war to win."

She went.

Three hours of planning. Of calling in every favor. Of turning the brewery into a fortress.

Her contacts arrived. One was former SAS, owed her for Vienna. One was ex-Mossad, owed her for Tehran. One was Russian FSB defector, owed her for getting his family out of Moscow.

Ten people total. Against Eleanor's thirty-plus.

Still shit odds. But better.

They prepped. Weapons check. Demo charges. Claymores. Every dirty trick in the book.

"You sure about this?" the SAS operator, Marcus, built like a tank, asked her. "These people. They're not just CIA. They're something worse."

"I know."

"And you're still going in alone."

"Yes."

"Brave or stupid. Haven't decided which."

"Both." She checked her Glock. Spare mags. Knife. "Always both."

Dawn came too fast.

Anya stood on the rooftop of the brewery. Watching the sun rise. Wondering if she'd see another.

Dimitri found her there. "It's time."

"I know."

"Last chance to run."

"Not running."

"Good." He handed her something. Small. Metal. "Tracker. Sew it into your clothes. If things go wrong..."

"You'll find me."

"Always." He pulled her close. One last time. "Whatever happens. Whatever you have to do to survive. Do it. Understand? Don't be brave. Don't be stupid. Just survive."

"You too."

"Deal."

They kissed. Soft. Sweet. A promise neither could keep.

Then she walked away. Down the stairs. Out into the dawn.

The port was exactly where Stevens said it would be. Helicopter pad. Empty except for one Blackhawk. Rotors already spinning.

Stevens stood at the base. Smiling. "Agent Volkov. Punctual. I appreciate that."

She kept her hands visible. Non-threatening. "Where's the deal?"

"Deal?" He laughed. "There is no deal. You're coming with us. Your sister's being processed right now. You get to watch her enter the program. Front-row seat."

Lie. She felt it. Katya was safe. Hidden. Protected by Nikolai and two of her contacts.

"Okay," she said.

Stevens blinked. "Okay?"

"I'll come. Take me." She stepped closer. Playing beaten. Playing broken. "Just... let her go. Please."

"God, you're pathetic. The great Agent Volkov, begging." He grabbed her arm. Started dragging her toward the helicopter. "Eleanor was right. You were always weak. Too attached. Too..."

Anya moved.

The knife from her boot. Up. Under his jaw.

Through soft tissue into his brain.

Stevens' eyes went wide. Shocked. He tried to speak. Couldn't.

She twisted the blade. "I told you. Slowly."

He dropped.

Then the rest of Eleanor's team appeared. Ten of them. Weapons up. Surrounding her.

"Down! On the ground! Now!"

She raised her hands. Slowly. Let them think they'd won.

Let them get close.

The first one to grab her took her elbow to his throat. The second got her boot to his knee, she felt it shatter. The third...

Gunfire. Not from her. From above.

Dimitri. Alexei. Her SAS contact. Raining hell from the rooftops.

The port exploded into chaos.

Anya dropped. Rolled. Came up with Stevens' gun. Started shooting. Center mass. Head shots. Every round counted.

Three down. Five. Seven.

More vehicles arrived. Eleanor's reinforcements. Thirty became forty. Became fifty.

"Anya!" Dimitri's voice through the comm. "Fall back! Too many! We need to..."

The explosion cut him off.

She turned. Saw smoke. Fire. The building where Dimitri had been positioned.

"Dimitri!" She was running. Not thinking. Just running. "Dimitri, answer me!"

Nothing. Just static.

The bond. She felt it. Felt him. Hurt. Trapped. Alive but...

A helicopter dropped low. Not Eleanor's. Different markings.

The door opened. Extraction team. Real one. Her old task force.

"Volkov!" Her former handler, the one before Marcus. "Get in! Now!"

"I can't..."

"That's an order! Get in the fucking helicopter!"

She looked at the burning building. At Dimitri somewhere inside. At the army closing in.

Looked at the helicopter. At escape. At survival.

Every instinct screamed to go. To live. To fight another day.

The bond pulsed. Weak. Fading.

He was dying.

Her mate. Her alpha. Her pack.

She made her choice.

Anya turned away from the helicopter. Raised her middle finger. Started running toward the fire.

"Volkov! Stand down! That's an order!"

She didn't stop.

Behind her, she heard the helicopter bank away. Heard her handler curse. Heard them leave.

She didn't care.

She hit the building at full speed. Smoke thick. Fire everywhere. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't see.

"Dimitri!"

"Here." His voice. Weak. From the left. "Anya... run. Get out."

She found him. Pinned under debris. Bleeding. Burns on his face and arms.

"Not running." She grabbed the beam. Lifted. Impossible weight. But the bond gave her strength, omega strength, different from alpha but just as fierce.

The beam moved. Inch by inch.

Dimitri pulled himself free. "You shouldn't have come back."

"Shut up." She hauled him up. Took his weight. "We're getting out of here."

They stumbled through smoke. Through fire. Through hell.

Made it outside. Collapsed on the concrete. Gasping. Alive.

The army was still coming. Eleanor's forces. Too many.

They were going to die here.

Then Anya's phone buzzed.

She pulled it out. Cracked screen. Barely working.

One message. Unknown number.

WE HAVE YOUR SISTER. THE REAL ONE. NOT THE DECOY. COMPLETE MISSION IN 24 HOURS OR SHE ENTERS HYBRID PROGRAM. THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE.

Attached was a photo.

Katya. Not safe. Not hidden. Bound. Gagged. Terror in her eyes.

And behind her, a room Anya recognized. CIA black site. Alaska.

"No." The word ripped from her throat. "No, no, no..."

Dimitri grabbed the phone. Read the message. Looked at her with eyes full of pain. "Anya..."

"They have her. They have my sister." She was shaking. Breaking. "We rescued a decoy. They played us. And now they have Katya and I..." Her voice broke. "Twenty-four hours. I have twenty-four hours to kill you or they...."

"Then we go get her." Dimitri's voice was steady. Sure. "We get your sister back."

"You're hurt. Your brothers...where are Alexei and Nikolai? Where..."

"We're here." Alexei limped into view. Bloody.

Battered. Alive. Nikolai beside him, favoring his left side.

"We're all here," Dimitri said. "And we're going to Alaska. We're getting your sister. And then we're ending this."

"Dimitri, you don't understand. This is suicide. They're waiting for us. They want us to come. It's a..."

"Trap. Yes. Obviously." He pulled her close despite the pain. Despite everything. "But she's your sister. She's family. And we protect family. Always."

The bond sang. Three alphas. One Luna. One pack.

"Where is she?" Dimitri asked.

Anya looked at the message again. At the geolocation data embedded in the photo.

"Alaska," she whispered. "She's in Alaska."