FIRST NIGHT

The attack came at midnight.

Anya was in her room, trying to sleep and failing spectacularly, when alarms started blaring. Red lights flashed in the hallways. The sound of running feet and shouted orders echoed from somewhere below.

She was at her door in seconds, pressing her ear against it, trying to figure out what was happening.

Gunfire. Distant but distinct.

And howling. Multiple wolves, their voices raised in challenge and rage.

The Sokolovs had made their move.

Her door burst open before she could step back. Nikolai stood there, already half-shifted, his eyes glowing gold with adrenaline and wolf instinct.

"Come with me. Now."

"What's happening?"

"What do you think?" He grabbed her hand, pulled her into the hallway. "The Sokolovs didn't wait for an answer. They're hitting us hard. Forty wolves... maybe more."

"Where are we going?"

"Safe room. Underground. Alexei's orders." He was moving fast, dragging her along corridors she'd never seen before. They passed pack members arming themselves, some already shifted, all wearing expressions of grim determination.

"I can fight," Anya said. "Give me a weapon, I can help."

"No." Nikolai's voice was flat, absolute. "You're the reason they're attacking. If they get their hands on you, this whole thing was for nothing. You stay hidden until it's over."

He pulled her down a stairwell, through a door disguised as part of the wall, into a corridor that looked more like a bunker than a house. Concrete walls. Emergency lighting. The smell of metal and gun oil.

At the end of the corridor was a vault door. Nikolai punched in a code, scanned his palm, and the door hissed open.

The room beyond was large, well-lit, and clearly designed to withstand a siege. Reinforced walls. Independent air circulation. Monitors showing feeds from cameras throughout the mansion.

Dimitri was already there, typing furiously on a laptop, coordinating the defense from what looked like a central command station.

"Status?" Nikolai asked.

"Forty-two hostiles. They breached the east wall, trying to push toward the main house. Alexei's leading the defense." Dimitri's fingers flew across the keyboard. "They're not here for territory.

They're specifically targeting Anya's floor."

"How did they know which floor?"

"Unknown. Either they have better intelligence than expected, or we have a leak." He looked at Anya. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. But I should be up there, not hiding down here like I'm helpless."

"You're not helpless. You're valuable. There's a difference." He pulled up a new screen. "If they capture you, they'll try to force the mate bond. Create a political marriage that gives them leverage over us. We can't let that happen."

"So I'm just supposed to sit here while you all fight because of me?"

"Yes," both brothers said simultaneously.

Anya wanted to argue, but the look in their eyes said it wouldn't matter. They'd made up their minds. She was staying here whether she liked it or not.

"Fine." She moved to stand behind Dimitri, watching the monitors. "At least let me see what's happening."

The screens showed chaos. Wolves fighting in both human and shifted forms throughout the mansion grounds. The Volkov pack was outnumbered but holding their position, using defensive formations and superior tactics to compensate for lower numbers.

And in the center of it all was Alexei.

Even through the grainy camera feed, his dominance was obvious. He moved like violence incarnate, taking down wolves twice his size with brutal efficiency. His shifted form was massive, black as midnight, and absolutely terrifying.

"He's going to get himself killed," Anya whispered.

"He's going to win," Nikolai corrected. "Alexei doesn't lose... Ever."

As if to prove the point, Alexei took down three wolves in rapid succession, his pack rallying around him. The Sokolov forces were being pushed back toward the breached wall.

Then a new feed caught Anya's attention. A small group of wolves, moving with purpose toward... here. Toward the bunker entrance.

"Dimitri." She pointed at the screen. "Five wolves. They're heading for this location."

He looked. Swore in Russian. "They know where the safe room is. Someone definitely fed them intel."

"How many people know this location?"

"Maybe twenty. All trusted pack members." His expression went grim. "Which means we have a traitor."

"Later," Nikolai said. "Right now we have more immediate problems." He moved to a weapons locker, started pulling out firearms. "Dimitri, can you seal the outer door?"

"Already done. But if they brought explosives, it won't hold for long."

"Then we buy time." Nikolai handed Anya a pistol. "You said you could fight? Prove it."

The weapon felt right in her hands. Familiar. All her training snapping into place like muscle memory.

"How many rounds?"

"Fifteen. Extra magazines in that drawer." He pointed. "Aim for center mass. Silver rounds, so they'll hurt even wolves. But head shots are better."

"I know how to shoot."

"I'm aware. I saw your files." He took position by the vault door, his own weapon ready. "But knowing and doing under pressure are different things."

Anya checked the magazine, confirmed the round in the chamber, clicked off the safety. "I've been under pressure since I was eight years old. This is just another day."

Dimitri looked up from his screens. "They're at the outer door. Trying to break through. We've got maybe two minutes."

"Alexei's on his way," Nikolai said, checking his own weapon. "Viktor's squad is coming too. If we can hold them for five minutes, we'll have reinforcements."

"And if we can't?"

"Then we improvise." He looked at Anya. "Stay behind us. Only shoot if you have a clear target. And whatever happens, don't let them take you alive."

The casual way he said it, like death was just another option, sent ice down her spine.

"Got it."

The sound of metal grinding against metal echoed through the corridor. They were cutting through the outer door.

Anya's heart was racing, but her hands were steady. All that training, all those years of preparation, coming down to this moment. Defending the men she'd been sent to kill.

The irony wasn't lost on her.

"Breaching," Dimitri announced. "Thirty seconds."

Nikolai shifted. Not fully, just enough that his hands became clawed and his teeth elongated. Partial transformation, keeping the advantages of both forms.

"Remember," he said, his voice gone rough and growling. "We don't have to kill them all. Just keep them away from her until help arrives."

The outer door exploded inward.

Smoke filled the corridor. Through it, Anya could see shapes moving. Five wolves, just like the camera had shown. All shifted. All larger than any natural wolf had a right to be.

The first one through the smoke lunged directly at Nikolai.

He met it mid-leap, claws finding purchase, teeth aiming for the throat. They went down in a tangle of fur and violence.

The second wolf went for Dimitri. He fired three times, quick controlled bursts that dropped it before it closed half the distance.

The third and fourth came together, trying to flank.

Anya didn't hesitate. Training took over. She aimed, breathed, squeezed the trigger.

The third wolf dropped, perfect headshot, dead before it hit the ground.

The fourth veered toward her, massive jaws opened wide.

She fired again. Again. Three rounds center mass that barely slowed it.

Then Dimitri was there, intercepting it with a shift so fast she barely saw it happen. His wolf form was lean, dark grey, built for speed over power. He caught the attacking wolf's throat and wrenched sideways with a motion that was sickeningly efficient.

The fifth wolf, seeing four of its packmates down, turned to run.

Nikolai caught it before it made the corridor. His wolf was golden-brown, beautiful even covered in blood. There was a brief struggle, then nothing.

The entire fight had lasted maybe forty-five seconds.

Anya stood there, weapon still raised, trying to process what had just happened.

"Clear," Dimitri announced, shifting back to human. He was naked, covered in blood, completely unbothered by either fact. "Anya, you good?"

She lowered her weapon with shaking hands. "I killed someone."

"You defended yourself. There's a difference."

"Is there?" She looked at the wolf she'd shot. It had shifted back in death, revealing a man in his thirties. Human-looking. Someone's son. Maybe someone's brother.

Dead because of her.

"Hey." Nikolai, also naked and bloody, touched her shoulder gently. "This isn't on you. They chose to attack. They knew the risks."

"They attacked because of me. Because I'm here. Because you won't hand me over."

"And we never will." He cupped her face, making her look at him. "These wolves chose violence. We just responded. That's not your fault."

Before she could respond, footsteps thundered down the corridor. More pack members, led by Alexei in human form, hastily dressed, covered in blood that probably wasn't his.

"Status?" His eyes swept the scene, cataloging the dead wolves, his brothers unharmed, Anya shaking but alive.

"Five hostiles. All down. No casualties on our side." Dimitri pulled on pants someone handed him. "But they knew where the safe room was. Someone fed them intel."

Alexei's expression went cold. "Find out who. By morning. I don't care what you have to do."

"Already on it." Dimitri retrieved his laptop. "I've been running security protocols. Should have a suspect list within the hour."

"And outside?"

"Sokolov forces retreated. Fifteen dead on their side, three wounded. We lost two pack members, five wounded. Could have been worse."

"It will be worse if they try again." Alexei moved to Anya, looked her over with clinical precision. "You're not hurt?"

"I'm fine. Just... processing."

"Process later. Right now, we need to move you to a different location. This room's been compromised." He turned to his brothers. "Take her to the east wing, third floor. The room next to mine. Double the guards. No one in or out without my personal clearance."

"The room next to yours?" Nikolai's eyebrows rose.

"That's the Luna's suite."

"I'm aware." Alexei's tone suggested the matter wasn't up for debate. "She's being targeted. She stays close where we can protect her properly."

"I don't need protection," Anya said. "I can protect myself. I just proved that."

"You shot one wolf. Well done. But you're not ready to take on a full pack, and your training won't help when they outnumber you forty to one." He stepped closer, invading her space in that way he had. "You're staying where I can keep you safe. That's not a request."

"Everything with you is a command."

"Because I'm the Pakhan. That's what I do." He touched her face, surprisingly gentle for someone covered in blood. "But I'm also your mate. And I take care of what's mine."

"I'm not..."

"Yes, you are." He cut her off. "You've been ours since the moment you walked into that poker game. You just haven't accepted it yet. But tonight proves it. The Sokolovs think you're worth starting a war over. Your organization thinks you're worth sending to your death. And we think you're worth defending against impossible odds." His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "So stop pretending you're going to walk away. We all know better."

The heat from his touch was overwhelming. Her diagnostic updated: IMMUNITY: 69%.

Thirty-one percent. Gone. In less than four days.

"I need to think," she whispered.

"Think all you want. But you're thinking from the safety of the Luna's suite, with guards on your door and my room ten feet away." He dropped his hand. "Nikolai, Dimitri, take her upstairs. I need to deal with the aftermath here."

The brothers guided her out of the bunker, back up to the main house. The damage from the attack was obvious now. Bullet holes in the walls. Blood on the floors. Broken furniture. Pack members moving through the space with grim efficiency, cleaning up, tending to wounds, cataloging losses.

This was her fault. All of it.

"Stop," Dimitri said quietly. "I can see you blaming yourself. Don't. This was inevitable. The Sokolovs have wanted an excuse to move against us for years. You were just convenient timing."

"Convenient timing that got two people killed."

"Two people died defending their pack. That's an honor in our world. They knew the risks."

They reached the third floor, stopped at a door that was indeed right next to another door marked with an ornate "A" that could only be Alexei's room.

Nikolai unlocked it, pushed it open.

The suite beyond was stunning. Larger than her previous room, decorated in warm colors with furniture that looked antique and expensive.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the grounds. There was a sitting area, a massive bed, a door that probably led to an equally impressive bathroom.

And everywhere, the faint scent of Alexei. Cedar and smoke and something wild.

"This is the Luna's traditional room," Nikolai explained. "It's always been next to the Pakhan's. Partners, not prisoners."

"I'm not Luna."

"Not yet." He squeezed her shoulder. "Get some rest. We'll post guards outside. You're safe here."

They left, and she heard the locks engage.

Safe. Right.

She was safe in a mansion that had just been attacked. Safe in a room designated for the mate of an Alpha. Safe with three men who wanted to claim her despite everything she'd done.

Safe was relative.

Anya moved to the window, stared out at the grounds where wolves were still cleaning up the aftermath of battle. Somewhere out there, the Sokolovs were regrouping, planning their next move. And somewhere in the city, her handlers were counting down the hours until they decided she'd outlived her usefulness.

She was trapped between two impossible choices, with a genetic countdown that made both increasingly complicated.

Her comm unit vibrated. The check-in signal.

She'd been ignoring it for three days. Letting them think she was deep undercover, gathering intel, playing the long game.

But tonight changed things. Tonight made it clear that she couldn't keep straddling both worlds. She had to choose.

Mission or mates.

Duty or desire.

The weapon they'd made her or the wolf she was supposed to be.

She activated the comm with her tongue click. Subvocalized: "Seven reporting. Situation complicated. Targets aware of infiltration but believe cover story. Requesting extraction."

Silence. Then: "Extraction denied. Complete mission or face retirement. You have forty-eight hours."

"Negative. Mission parameters have changed. Targets are not viable..."

"Forty-eight hours, Seven. That's an order."

The comm went dead.

Anya stood at the window, watching the sunrise paint the sky in shades of blood and gold.

Forty-eight hours until her organization killed her.

Approximately three days until her genetic immunity failed completely.

And somewhere in this mansion, three men who should be her targets but felt increasingly like her salvation.

She touched the glass, felt the cold seep through.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered to her reflection.

But that was a lie.

She knew exactly what she wanted to do.

The question was whether she was brave enough to do it.

Behind her, a soft knock at the connecting door.

Not the one to the hallway. The one that led directly to Alexei's room.

"Come in," she called without turning.

The door opened. She could see his reflection in the window. He'd showered, changed into clean clothes. Looked almost civilized except for the predator's grace in every movement.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

"Could you?"

"No. Too much adrenaline." He moved to stand beside her at the window. "You did well tonight. Most people freeze their first real combat. You didn't."

"I've been trained for this since I was a child."

"Training and execution are different things. You executed. Perfectly." He paused. "Thank you. For defending my brothers."

"I was defending myself too."

"Maybe. But you could have run. Could have let the Sokolovs take you, used it as an escape. You didn't. You fought beside us instead." He looked at her. "That means something."

"Does it?"

"It means you're already choosing, whether you realize it or not." He reached out slowly, giving her time to move away. When she didn't, his hand settled on the back of her neck, warm and possessive. "The bond doesn't force loyalty. It recognizes what's already there. You fought for us because somewhere in that complicated head of yours, you've already decided we're worth protecting."

"I don't know what I've decided."

"Then let me help you decide." He tugged her gently, turning her to face him. "I know this is fast. I know it's complicated. I know you have a lifetime of conditioning telling you we're the enemy. But I also know what I feel when you're close. What my wolf knows when you're near. And I know that if you walk away, it'll break something in me that won't ever heal."

His other hand cupped her face. Both points of contact burning through her.

"So I'm asking. Not commanding. Not demanding. Asking. Stay. Choose us. Let us show you what it means to have pack. To have family. To have mates who would burn the world before letting anything hurt you."

"And if I'm not worth it? If I can't be what you need?"

"Then we figure it out together. But I don't think that's going to be a problem. I think you're going to be extraordinary." He leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath. "I think you're going to be exactly what we've been waiting for. If you're brave enough to try."

Her diagnostic was flashing: IMMUNITY: 65%.

Thirty-five percent. Over a third. Gone.

But for the first time, she didn't care about the numbers.

"I'm scared," she admitted.

"I know." His forehead touched hers. "But you don't have to be scared alone. Not anymore."

And maybe that was the answer. Maybe home wasn't a place or a mission or a purpose. Maybe it was three dangerous men who looked at her like she was precious. Who fought for her. Who asked instead of taking.

Maybe it was here, in this moment, with this man holding her like she was the most important thing in his world.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Okay?"

"I'll stay. I'll try. I'll..." She took a breath. "I'll choose you. All of you."

His eyes blazed gold. "You mean that?"

"I mean that."

He kissed her then. Not gentle. Not tentative.

Claiming and desperate and absolutely certain.

And Anya kissed him back, feeling her immunity shatter into nothing and not caring at all.

Because maybe that was the point. Maybe being vulnerable with the right people was the bravest thing she could do.

Maybe love was worth the risk.