THE MANSION

Three days.

Anya had been in the Volkov mansion for three days, and she still hadn't found a way out.

Not that she hadn't tried. She'd examined every inch of her room, tested the windows a dozen different ways, even attempted to pick the magnetic lock with a hairpin she'd fashioned from the underwire of a bra. Nothing worked. The security was too good, the technology too advanced.

And her immunity kept dropping.

IMMUNITY: 76%

Twenty-four percent. Gone. In seventy-two hours.

At this rate, she'd be fully bonded within a week. Maybe less. The genetic suppression was breaking down faster than her organization's scientists had predicted, and every hour she spent in proximity to the three brothers made it worse.

Or better, depending on how you looked at it.

The mate bond was complicated. That's what she'd learned over the past three days. It wasn't just physical attraction, though there was plenty of that. It was deeper, more fundamental. Like recognizing something she hadn't known she'd been missing.

Every time Nikolai brought her meals, staying to talk while she ate, telling stories about his brothers and the pack and what it meant to be a wolf.

Every time Dimitri stopped by to update her on the investigation into her organization, his ice-blue eyes warming slightly when she made him laugh. Every time Alexei appeared in her doorway, usually late at night, and just looked at her like he was memorizing every detail before turning away without a word.

All of it pulled at her. Drew her in. Made the mission parameters seem increasingly abstract and the idea of killing these three men feel less like duty and more like self-mutilation.

Which was a problem.

A big problem.

Because in three days, her organization's deadline would expire. And if she hadn't completed her mission by then, they'd either extract her and try again with another operative, or they'd eliminate her as a liability. Neither option involved her walking away alive.

She was pacing her room for probably the hundredth time, trying to work through possibilities, when her door opened without warning.

Alexei stood there, dressed for business in another expensive suit, his expression unreadable.

"Come with me."

Not a request. Never a request with him.

Anya followed him out of her room, down corridors she'd memorized by now. But instead of heading toward the medical wing or his office or any of the other places she'd been escorted to over the past days, he led her to a different part of the mansion entirely.

The architecture changed. Less modern, more classical. The walls here were wood-paneled, the floors covered in expensive rugs that probably cost more than most people's houses. Portraits lined the hallways, serious-faced men and women in clothing spanning centuries.

"Family?" she asked

.

"Former Pakhans. Leaders of the Volkov Bratva going back six generations." He stopped at one particular portrait, a man with silver eyes and black hair who looked eerily similar to Alexei himself. "My father. He ruled for a hundred and fifty years before I killed him."

Anya blinked. "You killed your own father?"

"He was abusive. Brutal. Ruled through fear and pain. Killing him was the best thing I ever did for this pack." He said it matter-of-factly, like discussing the weather. "My brothers and I rebuilt everything. Made it stronger. Made it ours."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're going to be Luna. You should know the history." He continued walking. "And because I want you to understand something. We're not good men, Anya. We've killed, we've destroyed, we've done things that would horrify most people. But we protect what's ours. Always. Without exception."

He stopped at a massive wooden door, carved with intricate patterns. Wolves running beneath a full moon. It was beautiful and slightly ominous.

Alexei pushed it open.

The room beyond took her breath away.

It was a library. No, calling it a library was like calling the ocean a puddle. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined every wall, filled with thousands of books in dozens of languages. The ceiling soared three stories high, with a balcony running along the second level. Large windows let in natural light that caught the dust motes and made everything seem to glow.

"This is..." Anya turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. "Incredible."

"Dimitri's domain. He's spent the last century collecting first editions and rare manuscripts. Probably knows every book in here by heart." Alexei gestured to the comfortable seating areas scattered throughout. "He also uses it as his primary workspace when he's researching something."

"Like me."

"Like you." Alexei moved to a large desk where papers were spread out, covered in notes in what looked like multiple languages. "He's been trying to figure out who your organization is. Who runs it. Where they're based. It's like fighting smoke. Every trail leads nowhere."

Anya moved closer to the desk despite herself. Saw her own face in several surveillance photos. Documentation of her movements over the past six months. Files on Project Seventh's known operations, though there were fewer than she'd expected.

"They're good at hiding," she said.

"So are we. Usually." Alexei picked up a photo, studied it. "Viktor found something interesting yesterday. Want to see?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really." He turned a monitor toward her. "Recognize her?"

The woman on the screen was maybe forty, stern-faced, wearing a white lab coat. She looked vaguely familiar, but Anya couldn't place her.

"Should I?"

"Dr. Sarah Chen. Your therapist. The one who supposedly died three weeks ago in a car accident." Alexei pulled up another image. "Except she didn't die. The body in the car was someone else. Chen disappeared, and twelve hours later, this."

He showed her a new photo. The same woman, but in different clothes, entering a building Anya recognized. Project Seventh's secondary facility in Prague.

"She works for them," Anya said slowly. "The therapist was never real. She was part of my cover."

"More than that. She's part of their leadership. We tracked her movements for the past week. She's meeting with handlers, coordinating operations, signing off on mission parameters." He zoomed in on a document partially visible in one of the surveillance photos. "Including yours."

Anya felt cold. Dr. Chen had been her therapist for two years. Had listened to her talk about stress and anxiety and the nightmares that sometimes woke her. Had prescribed medication that Anya now realized was probably more suppression drugs disguised as anti-anxiety medication.

"They were monitoring me that closely?"

"Appears so. The question is why. If you were just another operative, why the extra oversight?"

That was a good question. One Anya didn't have an answer to.

"Maybe because I'm a wolf," she said. "Maybe they were worried the suppression would fail."

"Maybe." Alexei didn't sound convinced. "Or maybe you're special in some other way. Something they didn't tell you about."

Before Anya could respond, raised voices echoed from somewhere nearby.

Alexei's expression went flat. He moved toward the door with predatory grace, and Anya followed without thinking.

The voices were coming from down the hall. Two men, arguing in rapid Russian. As they got closer, Anya recognized one voice as Dimitri's.

They rounded a corner to find Dimitri and Nikolai in what looked like a serious argument. Both stopped talking when they saw Alexei.

"What's going on?" Alexei's tone suggested this better be important.

"We have a situation," Dimitri said. "The Sokolov pack knows about her."

Anya's stomach dropped. The Sokolov pack was one of the major rivals to the Volkov Bratva. If they knew an unmated female with Luna potential was here...

"How did they find out?" Alexei's voice had gone dangerously quiet.

"Unknown. But they've already made contact. Demanding we turn her over to them for evaluation." Nikolai's hands were clenched into fists. "They're claiming rights of first refusal since she's not marked yet."

"That's not how pack law works."

"They're not concerned with pack law. They're concerned with gaining an advantage." Dimitri pulled out his phone, showed them a message. "They're threatening to bring the issue to the Council if we don't comply."

Anya read the message over his shoulder. It was formal, written in the kind of language that suggested lawyers had been involved. But the threat underneath was clear: hand over the girl or there would be consequences.

"How many wolves do they have?" she asked.

All three brothers looked at her.

"Why?" Alexei's eyes narrowed.

"Because if they're threatening war over me, I need to know what kind of numbers we're talking about." She met his gaze. "And because I'm apparently not just an assassin anymore. I'm a political asset. Which means I should probably understand the politics."

Dimitri's lips twitched. Almost a smile. "The Sokolov pack has approximately sixty wolves.

Combat-trained. Well-armed. Dangerous."

"And you have?"

"Forty-three," Nikolai admitted. "We're smaller but better trained."

"And if they attack?"

"Then we defend," Alexei said flatly. "You're ours. That's not negotiable."

"Yours." The word felt strange in her mouth. "I'm not marked. I haven't accepted the bond. By what right am I yours?"

"By the right that you walked into our territory, triggered our mate instincts, and have been living under our protection for three days." He stepped closer. "By the right that my wolf knows you belong to us even if you're still trying to convince yourself otherwise."

"That's not how consent works."

"Consent to the bond and consent to protection are different things." His expression softened fractionally. "I'm not asking you to accept us as mates. Not yet. But I am telling you that you're under our protection now. Whether you want it or not."

"How romantic," she said dryly.

"I never claimed to be romantic. I claimed to be pragmatic." He turned to his brothers. "Tell the Sokolovs that we decline their generous offer. If they have a problem with that, they can take it up with us directly."

"That's going to start a war," Dimitri warned.

"Then we'll finish it. We've done it before."

"Not over a female."

"No," Alexei agreed. "But there's a first time for everything."

The casual way he said it, like he was discussing dinner plans instead of potential mass violence, sent a chill down Anya's spine.

"Wait," she said. "You can't go to war over me. That's insane."

"Why?" Nikolai's head tilted. "You're our mate. That makes you worth fighting for."

"I'm an assassin who was sent to kill you three days ago!"

"And yet you haven't tried to kill us once since you've been here." He moved closer, crowding into her space in a way that should have felt threatening but somehow didn't. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm unarmed and outnumbered and my genetic immunity is failing faster than expected?"

"Or," he said softly, "because you don't want to. Because despite everything they did to you, despite all the programming and suppression and lies, some part of you recognizes us. Knows we're supposed to be yours as much as you're supposed to be ours."

His hand came up, fingers gentle under her chin, tipping her face toward his. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't feel the pull."

She couldn't. Because he wasn't wrong.

"This is a terrible idea," she whispered.

"Most of the best things are." He leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath against her lips. "We don't have to make any decisions today. But you should know... if it comes to war, we're going to win. And we're keeping you. That's not up for debate."

"Why?" The word came out broken. "Why do you even want me? You barely know me."

"I know enough." His thumb brushed her lower lip. "I know you're strong and scared and trying so damn hard to hold onto control. I know you were betrayed by everyone who should have protected you. I know you're more than what they made you, and I'd really like the chance to help you figure out who that is."

"And if I'm not worth it? If the wolf they suppressed is as much of a monster as the weapon they created?"

"Then we'll be monsters together." He said it like a promise. "But I don't think that's what's going to happen. I think you're going to be extraordinary. And I really don't want to miss it."

Anya's throat felt tight. Her diagnostic was flashing: IMMUNITY: 73%.

Three more percent from one conversation. From him standing this close. From wanting things she absolutely should not want.

"I need air," she managed. "I need to get out of this hallway."

"Come on." Nikolai stepped back, giving her space. "I'll show you the gardens. Best place to think in this whole mansion."

"We're in the middle of a crisis," Dimitri pointed out.

"Which is exactly why she needs air. Let her breathe, Dima. We can handle the Sokolovs."

Dimitri looked like he wanted to argue, but Alexei waved them off. "Go. But stay on the grounds. And Nikolai, take someone with you. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Anya asked.

"In case the Sokolovs decide they don't want to wait for an answer." He met her eyes. "You're valuable, Anya. To us, to them, to your organization. That makes you a target. So until this is resolved, you don't go anywhere without protection."

"I can protect myself."

"Against one or two attackers, probably. Against a coordinated assault by a rival pack?" He shook his head. "Don't test it. Not yet."

There was something in his tone that suggested concern underneath the command. Like maybe he actually cared whether she lived or died beyond just the mate bond.

That should not have felt as good as it did.

Nikolai led her through the mansion, down a different set of hallways to a set of French doors that opened onto the most beautiful garden Anya had ever seen.

It was early spring, the kind of soft, hopeful warmth that made the world feel new again. Along the winding stone path, cherry blossoms were just beginning to bloom, their petals drifting like confetti in the breeze. In the center of it all stood a fountain, water gently spilling over stone-carved wolves. A few benches were tucked into quiet corners, made for slow breaths and silent thoughts. The whole place felt like a pause in time.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Dimitri designed it. Said we needed something peaceful in all the chaos." Nikolai's smile was soft. "He won't admit it, but he's actually a romantic under all that paranoia."

"And you?"

"Me?" He considered. "I'm exactly as romantic as I seem. Maybe more. I believe in grand gestures and true love and fate putting people in each other's paths." He looked at her. "I believe the universe doesn't make mistakes. And I believe you were meant to find us."

"Even if I was sent to kill you?"

"Especially then. Because what are the odds? Of all the operatives they could have sent, they sent the one who's actually our mate? That's not coincidence. That's destiny intervening."

"You have a very optimistic view of attempted murder."

"I have an optimistic view of everything. Drives my brothers crazy." He guided her toward a bench near the fountain. "But I'm also a realist. I know this situation is complicated. I know you're probably terrified. I know that accepting the bond means giving up whatever life you thought you'd have."

"I never thought I'd have a life. I thought I'd have missions until one of them killed me."

"And now?"

Anya sat on the bench, staring at the fountain without really seeing it. "Now I don't know what I think. Everything I believed was a lie. Everything I am is fake. How am I supposed to make decisions about the future when I don't even understand the present?"

"One step at a time." Nikolai sat beside her, close but not touching. "First step: accept that you're safe here. That we're not going to hurt you or hand you over to anyone else."

"Why should I believe that?"

"Because in three days, you've seen how we operate. You've seen us handle business, deal with threats, interact with the pack. Have we given you any reason to think we're lying?"

She thought about it. Really thought about it.

Alexei had been cold but never cruel. Had kept her locked up but made sure she had everything she needed. Had threatened but never actually harmed.

Dimitri had been suspicious but fair. Had investigated her thoroughly but also shared what he'd found. Had tested her limits but respected when she pushed back.

And Nikolai... Nikolai had been kind. Had brought her meals and stayed to talk. Had made her laugh despite everything. Had looked at her like she was precious instead of dangerous.

"No," she admitted. "You haven't lied to me. Which is more than I can say for my own organization."

"Second step: figure out what you want. Not what you were trained to want. Not what you think you should want. What you actually want."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Then we'll figure it out together." He finally touched her, just his hand covering hers where it rested on the bench. "You're not alone anymore, Anya. You have us. And we're not going anywhere.

The heat from his touch was familiar now.

Welcome, even. Her diagnostic updated: IMMUNITY: 71%.

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

Maybe that made her weak. Maybe it made her a failed operative. Maybe it made her exactly what her organization had always feared she'd become.

Or maybe it just made her human.

Or wolf.

Or whatever combination of the two she was still figuring out how to be.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"For not treating me like a threat. For giving me space to figure this out. For... all of it."

"You're welcome." His hand squeezed hers.

"Though fair warning, Alexei's patience has limits. He's going to want an answer eventually about the bond."

"What kind of answer?"

"The kind where you decide if you're staying or going. If you're accepting us or rejecting us. If you're willing to try or if you'd rather walk away."

"And if I walk away?"

His expression went sad. "Then we let you go. Even though it'll destroy us. Even though the bond will drive us slowly insane. We'd still let you go. Because you deserve the choice they never gave you."

Anya's chest felt tight. "That's... that's not fair."

"No. But it's honest." He stood, offered her his hand. "Come on. We should head back before Alexei sends a search party."

She let him pull her to her feet but didn't release his hand as they walked back through the garden.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, beneath all the training and conditioning and lies, a small voice whispered: maybe staying wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe choosing them would be the first real choice she'd ever made.

Maybe home wasn't a place. Maybe it was three dangerous men who looked at her like she was worth starting wars over.

Maybe....