THE PHOTOGRAPH

Anya didn't sleep. How could she? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that photo. Subject A-7. Eight years old and already being molded into something that wasn't quite human anymore.

She'd known, of course. Known that her memories from before Project Seventh were fragmented and unreliable. Known that the woman she vaguely remembered as "mother" was probably just another handler playing a role. But seeing proof that she'd been modified as a child, that someone had cut into her face and rearranged it like a puzzle, that made it real in a way it hadn't been before.

When morning light finally crept through the windows, she was still lying there fully dressed on top of the covers, staring at nothing.

The intercom beeped.

"Breakfast in ten minutes," Dimitri's voice announced. "Then medical. I suggest you eat. Galina gets cranky when people pass out during examinations."

"Who's Galina?"

"Our pack doctor. She's old, mean, and terrifyingly competent. You'll love her."

The intercom clicked off before she could respond.

Anya dragged herself to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and tried to look like someone who hadn't spent the entire night contemplating her own mortality and the various ways three werewolves could kill her.

She failed spectacularly.

When she emerged, there was a tray outside her door. Coffee, black. Eggs. Toast. Fresh fruit that probably cost more than her monthly salary at the cover job she'd never actually worked.

She ate mechanically, barely tasting anything, her mind churning through possibilities. Seventy-two hours until her organization "retired" her. Three days to either complete an impossible mission or figure out how to survive without them.

Neither option was particularly appealing.

She'd just finished the coffee when her door opened.

Nikolai stood there, looking unfairly well-rested in dark jeans and a black henley that showed off the kind of build that came from actual violence, not gym selfies. He smiled when he saw her.

"Ready?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. But I appreciate the question." He gestured to the hallway. "After you."

Anya walked past him, hyperaware of how close he was. Close enough that she caught his scent, warm and earthy with something sharper underneath. Her diagnostic flickered in her peripheral vision: IMMUNITY: 89%.

Two more percent. Just from proximity.

"You look tired," Nikolai said as they walked. "Didn't sleep?"

"Would you? If you were being held prisoner by people who might kill you at any moment?"

"Fair point." He didn't sound offended. "For what it's worth, we're not planning to kill you. Alexei's very clear on that."

"How reassuring."

"I know it doesn't feel like it, but you're safe here. Safer than you'd be if your organization decided you were a liability." He glanced at her. "Which I'm guessing they already have, considering you haven't tried to escape yet."

She didn't answer. Couldn't, really, because he was absolutely right.

They descended a flight of stairs, went through several corridors that all looked expensive and slightly threatening, and finally stopped at a door marked with a small medical symbol.

Nikolai knocked twice, then opened it without waiting for a response.

The room beyond was clearly a medical facility. Sterile white walls, examination table, cabinets full of supplies. And standing by the counter, reviewing something on a tablet, was a woman who looked like she'd been old when the pyramids were young.

White hair pulled back in a severe bun. Sharp black eyes that missed nothing. Traditional Russian clothing that somehow made her seem more dangerous instead of grandmotherly.

She looked up when they entered. Her gaze went immediately to Anya, and her expression could have frozen the sun.

"So this is the assassin," she said in Russian. Her voice was dry as old paper. "She doesn't look like much."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Galina," Nikolai replied in the same language. "She's very good at what she does."

"Which is dying, apparently, since she failed to kill you and now she's here." Galina set down her tablet. "Well? Don't just stand there. Get on the table."

Anya hesitated. Every instinct screamed that letting a hostile doctor examine her was a spectacularly bad idea.

"It's okay," Nikolai said softly, switching to English. "She's not going to hurt you. Just needs to understand what was done to you."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then Alexei will make it not a choice." He touched her elbow, gentle. "Please. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

The contact sent another pulse of heat through her system. She pulled away, but not before her diagnostic updated: IMMUNITY: 87%.

Twelve percent gone. In less than twelve hours.

She was running out of time.

Anya climbed onto the examination table, mostly because fighting seemed pointless when she was outnumbered, outgunned, and rapidly losing her only defensive advantage.

Galina approached with the kind of clinical detachment that suggested she'd seen everything twice and been unimpressed both times.

"Shirt off."

"Excuse me?"

"Your shirt. Remove it. I need to examine you properly." When Anya didn't immediately comply, Galina's eyes narrowed. "I've been a physician for two hundred years, girl. I've seen every configuration of human anatomy. Your modesty is irrelevant."

"Two hundred years," Anya repeated faintly.

"I'm a wolf, not a human. We live longer." She gestured impatiently. "Shirt. Now."

Anya looked at Nikolai, who'd moved to stand by the door. He deliberately turned his back, giving her privacy.

It was such a small gesture. Such a human thing to do. And it made her throat feel tight for reasons she didn't want to examine.

She pulled off her shirt, leaving her in just the thin camisole underneath. The room was cool enough that goosebumps rose on her arms immediately.

Galina's examination was thorough and completely impersonal. She checked Anya's eyes, throat, reflexes. Listened to her heart and lungs. Palpated her abdomen with practiced efficiency.

Then she found the injection sites.

Anya had known this was coming. The marks were faded but still visible if you knew what to look for, small dots running up the inside of her forearm where they'd administered the genetic modifications.

Galina's fingers traced the pattern. "How many injections?"

"I don't know. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. They started when I was eight."

"And what were you told they were for?"

"Making me stronger. Faster. Better." Anya's laugh was bitter. "Making me immune to supernatural influence so I could get close to targets like them without being compromised."

"Immune." Galina's expression was unreadable. "To what, specifically?"

"The mate bond. Alpha commands. Anything that would make me vulnerable to werewolf abilities."

"I see." Galina returned to her tablet, made several notes. "And is it working?"

Anya thought about her diagnostic. About the steady degradation of her immunity. About the way her pulse kicked every time one of them touched her.

"Not as well as they promised," she admitted.

"Interesting." Galina pulled out a device that looked like a combination of a scanner and something from a science fiction movie. "This will feel cold. Don't move."

She pressed it against Anya's chest, just over her heart. The device hummed, and data began scrolling across a small screen.

Galina's expression shifted from clinical to something that might have been shock. She ran the scan again. Then a third time.

"Nikolai," she said sharply. "Get Alexei and Dimitri. Now."

"What's wrong?"

"Just get them. Immediately."

Nikolai left without further questions. The door closed behind him, and Anya was alone with the ancient doctor who was now staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

"What is it?" Anya asked. "What did you find?"

"Something that shouldn't be possible." Galina set down the scanner. "Your genetic structure has been modified, yes. But not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?"

"The injections you received. They weren't designed to make you immune to the mate bond. They were designed to suppress something that was already there." She pulled up an image on her tablet, showed it to Anya. "This is your DNA sequence. Do you see these markers?"

Anya looked at the complex strands of genetic code. They meant nothing to her.

"These markers," Galina continued, pointing to specific sections, "are werewolf in origin."

The room tilted.

"That's not possible. I'm human. I've always been human."

"You should be human. These modifications you received, they suppressed your wolf genetics while you were still developing. Forced your body to present as fully human." Galina's eyes were sharp as broken glass. "But the wolf is still there. Dormant. And now that you're in proximity to your mates, it's starting to wake up."

"No." Anya shook her head. "No, that's insane. I can't be part wolf. I've never shifted, I don't have any abilities, I'm just..."

"Just a human who smells like mate to three powerful Alphas?" Galina's tone was dry. "Just a human whose genetic immunity is failing faster than expected because it's not immunity at all, it's suppression, and your wolf is fighting to break free?"

The door burst open.

Alexei entered first, Dimitri right behind him, both looking alert and dangerous. Nikolai brought up the rear, closing the door and locking it.

"What did you find?" Alexei's question was directed at Galina, but his eyes were on Anya.

"She's not human." Galina turned the tablet around, showed them the genetic readout. "Or rather, she wasn't meant to be human. Someone took a wolf child and chemically suppressed her nature. Rewrote her genetics to present as human. The modifications she thinks made her immune to the bond? They were keeping her wolf locked away."

Silence.

Anya couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. This wasn't possible. She was human. She'd always been human. Everything she knew about herself, everything she'd been told, everything she was...

"That's insane," Dimitri said finally. "To suppress a wolf's nature that completely, from that young? It would require constant maintenance. Constant injections."

"Which she received," Galina pointed out. "For fifteen years."

"But why?" Nikolai moved closer to the examination table. "Why would anyone do that?"

"To create the perfect infiltrator," Alexei said. His voice was cold, analytical. "A wolf who smells like a wolf, who can trigger mate bonds, but who reads as human to all other tests. Someone who could get close to supernatural targets without triggering any warnings."

"That's monstrous," Nikolai whispered.

"That's effective." Alexei looked at Anya. "How long since your last injection?"

She had to think. Count backwards. "Six months. Maybe seven. They told me I'd graduated to a maintenance dose that I'd only need annually."

"They lied." Galina made several more notes. "The suppression is breaking down. That's why your 'immunity' is failing. It's not immunity failing, it's you finally becoming what you were always supposed to be."

"A wolf," Anya said numbly.

"A very powerful wolf, if these genetic markers are any indication." Galina zoomed in on part of the readout. "You have Alpha potential. Possibly Luna. That's why the bond is so strong."

Anya's hands were shaking. She gripped the edge of the examination table, knuckles white.

"I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down," Galina pointed out.

"Then I need to lie down. Or throw up. Or both." She looked at Alexei. "Are you telling me that everything I know about myself is a lie?"

"Appears that way." He didn't sound sympathetic, but something in his eyes had softened. "Your organization took a wolf child, possibly an orphan or stolen from a pack, and turned her into a weapon against her own kind."

"Why would they do that?"

"Why does any organization do anything?" Dimitri had moved to study the genetic readout, his analytical mind clearly processing the implications. "Power. Control. The ability to eliminate supernatural threats without being detected."

"How many others?" Nikolai asked. "If they did this to her, they've probably done it to others."

"Unknown," Galina said. "But this level of modification doesn't happen in isolation. This is a program. Organized. Well-funded. Which means...."

"Which means she's not the only one," Alexei finished. "There are more like her. More wolves who don't know what they are, being sent to kill their own kind."

The room spun. Anya pressed her hands to her face, trying to process everything.

She wasn't human. She was a wolf who'd been chemically lobotomized, turned into a weapon against her own species. Everything she'd been told was a lie. Everything she thought she knew about herself was wrong.

"I need air," she said. "I need to get out of this room. I need..."

Nikolai was there immediately, helping her off the table with gentle hands. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere you can breathe."

"Wait." Alexei stepped forward. "We need to talk about what happens next."

"What happens next is she has a breakdown in private instead of in front of an audience," Nikolai said sharply. "She just found out her entire identity is a lie. Give her a minute."

"We don't have a minute. If her organization realizes she's learned the truth..."

"Then they'll do what? Kill her? They're already planning to. This changes nothing tactically."

Nikolai's arm was around Anya's shoulders now, supporting her weight. "It changes everything personally. So give her a minute."

For a long moment, the two brothers stared at each other. Some kind of silent argument happening that Anya was too shell-shocked to follow.

Finally, Alexei stepped back. "Fine. Take her back to her room. But we're having a conversation about this. Soon."

"Agreed." Nikolai guided Anya toward the door. "Can you walk?"

"I think so." Her legs felt like water, but she managed to stay upright. "I just need... I don't know what I need."

"You need time to process. And probably several drinks. Come on."

He led her out of the medical room, back through the corridors, up to the floor where her gilded cage waited. But instead of taking her to her room, he kept walking, up another flight of stairs to a different door.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere better than a room with cameras." He pushed open the door. "My room. It's safe here."

Anya should have protested. Should have demanded to go back to her own space. But she was so far beyond the point of making good decisions that she just followed him inside.

The room was larger than hers, decorated in dark colors with masculine furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Moscow. A king bed dominated one wall, and there was a sitting area with leather chairs and a bar cart.

Nikolai went straight to the bar cart, poured something amber into two glasses, and handed her one.

"Drink."

Anya drank. It burned going down, smooth and expensive and probably cost more than a car.

"Another?"

She nodded.

He refilled her glass, then guided her to one of the chairs. She sank into it, cradling the drink in both hands.

"So," Nikolai said after a moment. "That was a lot."

"That's an understatement."

"Want to talk about it?

"Not particularly." She took another sip. "Want me to talk about it anyway?"

"Only if it helps."

Anya stared into her glass. Watched the liquid catch the light.

"I don't know who I am anymore," she said finally. "Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I was, it's all just lies built on top of more lies. I don't even know what's real."

"This is real." Nikolai gestured between them. "What you're feeling right now, the bond pulling at you, that's real. You can't fake that."

"Can't I? Maybe it's just more programming. More manipulation."

"You felt it before Galina told you about your genetics. Before you knew you were a wolf." He set his glass down, moved to crouch in front of her chair. "The bond doesn't lie, Anya. Whatever else is false, that's true."

"How do you know?"

"Because I feel it too." His hand came up slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, he cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "Every instinct I have is screaming that you're mine. That I need to protect you, claim you, keep you safe. That's not fake. That's as real as anything I've ever felt."

The heat from his touch was overwhelming. Her diagnostic updated: IMMUNITY: 84%.

Sixteen percent. Gone. In less than twenty-four hours.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know."

"Not of you. Of what I might become. What if the wolf they suppressed is worse than the weapon they made me into?"

"Then we'll deal with it together." He didn't let go of her face. "You're not alone in this. Whatever happens, whatever you become, we'll figure it out."

"Why?" She met his eyes. "Why would you help me? I was sent to kill you."

"Because you're ours." He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. "The bond chose you. That makes you pack. That makes you family. And we protect our family."

"Even when they're assassins?"

"Especially then." His smile was crooked. "We're criminals, remember? We're not exactly in a position to judge."

Despite everything, despite the crushing weight of too many revelations in too short a time, Anya felt her lips twitch toward a smile.

"You're insane."

"Probably." He stood, offered her his hand. "Come on. You should rest. Tomorrow we'll figure out next steps."

"Like what?"

"Like how to keep you alive when your organization decides you're a liability. And how to help you through what's going to happen when your wolf finally breaks free." He pulled her to her feet. "But that's tomorrow's problem. Today, you just need to breathe."

He started to lead her toward the door, but Anya pulled back.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"The mate bond. Is it always this intense? This fast?"

Nikolai's expression went soft. "I don't know. I've never felt it before. But from everything I've heard, when it's real, when it's right, it's supposed to hit like lightning. Supposed to feel like your soul recognizes something it's been searching for forever." He touched her face again, gentle. "Does that sound about right?"

It did. God help her, it absolutely did.

But admitting that felt like crossing a line she couldn't uncross.

"I need to think," she said instead.

"Fair enough." He released her. "Come on. I'll walk you back."

They left his room, walked in silence back down to her floor. At her door, Nikolai paused.

"For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I'm glad you're here. Even if the circumstances are completely insane, even if it's complicated and dangerous and probably going to end badly, I'm glad you exist. Glad the universe put you in our path."

"You might change your mind when I try to kill you again."

"Maybe." He smiled. "But somehow, I don't think that's going to happen."

He unlocked her door with a key she hadn't seen him carrying, waited for her to enter, then closed it gently behind her.

Anya stood in the center of the room, staring at nothing.

She wasn't human.

She was a wolf who'd been turned into a weapon against her own kind.

And somewhere in this city, her handlers were counting down the hours until they decided she was more trouble than she was worth.

Seventy-two hours, they'd said.

She had fifty-seven left.

And absolutely no idea what to do with them.