THE WITCH'S ARRIVAL

DIMITRI

Something was wrong with Anya.

Dimitri felt it through the bond, a hollowness where warmth should be. A gap. Like something essential had been carved out and nothing replaced it.

"She's fine," Dr. Chen insisted. "Physically, there's nothing wrong. Vitals are perfect. Brain activity normal. No signs of trauma."

"Then why does she feel wrong?" Dimitri demanded.

"I don't know. Magic..." Dr. Chen looked helpless. "I'm a doctor. I deal with bodies. With things I can measure. This is beyond my expertise."

Anya was sleeping. Had been for six hours. Exhaustion, Dr. Chen said. The ritual had drained her. She needed rest.

But Dimitri watched her sleep and felt dread. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. And he had no idea how to fix it.

"The witch took something," Alexei said quietly. He stood in the doorway. Watching. "Last time, she took Katya's memories. This time..."

"This time she took something from Anya." Nikolai joined them. "But what?"

"We won't know until she wakes up," Dimitri said. "Until she tells us what's missing."

"And if she can't tell us? If she doesn't know?"

Good question. One Dimitri didn't have an answer for.

Katya appeared. Walking steadier now. Color returning to her face. The neural pathways destroyed. Project Seventh's control broken. Free.

But at what cost?

"Is she okay?" Katya asked. Looking at Anya. Guilt in her eyes. "She did this for me. Both rituals. Both prices. She barely knows me and she..."

"She's your sister," Dimitri said. "Anya would burn the world for family. That's who she is."

"I don't remember her. Don't remember being sisters. But..." Katya looked at Anya sleeping. "I feel something. When I look at her. Like my body remembers even if my mind doesn't."

"That's the bond," Nikolai said. "Family bonds exist deeper than memory. Deeper than thought. They exist in blood. In soul."

"You believe in souls?"

"I believe in bonds. And I've seen enough impossible shit in the last week that I'm willing to believe in anything."

Fair point.

They waited. The day passed. Anya slept. They took turns watching her. Making sure she was breathing. Making sure she was alive.

Dimitri felt useless. His mate was hurting, he knew it, felt it through the bond, and he couldn't do anything. Couldn't fight the enemy. Couldn't kill what was hurting her.

Magic. Fucking magic.

He'd never trusted it. Still didn't. But Anya had needed it. Katya had needed it. So he'd let the witch work. Let her take her price.

Now he wondered if the cost had been too high.

Night fell. Anya's eyes opened.

"Dimitri?" Her voice was weak. Hoarse.

"I'm here." He was beside her in seconds. Holding her hand. "How do you feel?"

"Wrong. Empty. Like something's missing." She sat up slowly. "What did the witch take? What's gone?"

"We were hoping you could tell us."

"I don't know. Everything feels..." She stopped. Stared at her hands. "Wait. My fingers. I can't feel..." She pressed her fingertips together. "There's no sensation. No feedback. It's like they're numb."

Dr. Chen moved quickly. Testing. Checking nerve response. Her face grave.

"You've lost tactile sensation," she said finally. "Your sense of touch. Not everywhere...major muscle groups and gross motor control are fine. But fine motor skills, light touch, texture...it's gone."

"Gone," Anya repeated. Testing. Touching the sheets. The wall. Dimitri's face. "I can feel pressure. But not...not details. Not texture. Not..."

She looked horrified.

"The magic took my sense of touch."

Silence. The weight of it settling. An operative who couldn't feel. A sniper who couldn't detect subtle feedback. A mate who couldn't fully feel her alpha's touch.

"Can it come back?" Dimitri asked. Desperate.

"I don't know. Neurologically, everything looks intact. The nerves are there. The pathways exist. But the sensation..." Dr. Chen looked at Anya. "It's like magic severed the connection between physical input and conscious perception. I've never seen anything like it."

"So I'm..." Anya's voice was flat. "I'm numb. Permanently."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Magic is unpredictable. It might reverse. It might..."

"Or it might not." Anya stood. Tested her balance. Her coordination. "Gross motor skills are fine. I can walk. Fight. Shoot. I just can't..." She pressed her palm to the wall. "Can't feel details."

"Anya..." Dimitri reached for her.

She stepped back. "Don't. I can't...I need a minute. I need to..." She was out the door before he could stop her. Running. Into the night.

He started to follow. Alexei caught his arm.

"Give her space," his brother said. "She's processing. She needs time."

"She needs her mate."

"She needs to accept what's happened before she can let you help. Trust me. I know what it's like to lose something essential."

Dimitri did. Alexei had lost hearing in his left ear during a firefight years ago. Had struggled. Had pulled away. Had taken weeks to accept it.

But Anya wasn't Alexei. And this wasn't hearing. This was touch. The sense that connected her to the world. To her pack. To him.

"I'm going after her," he decided.

Found her by the lake. Sitting on the shore. Staring at water she couldn't fully feel.

He sat beside her. Silent. Waiting.

"I can't feel you," she said finally. "Through the bond, yes. But physically..." She held out her hand. "Touch me. Please."

He took her hand. Laced their fingers together. Held her gently.

"I feel pressure," she said. "I know you're holding me. But I can't feel..." Her voice broke. "I can't feel your skin. Your warmth. The calluses on your palm. All the details that made your touch yours. They're gone."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I chose this. Both times. I knew there would be a price. I just didn't think..." She laughed. Bitter. "I didn't think it would be this."

"We'll adapt. We'll figure it out."

"How? I'm an operative. I rely on touch. On feedback. On being able to feel my environment."

She pulled her hand away. "I can't do my job anymore. Can't fight the way I used to. Can't..."

"Can't be who you were. I know." He turned her. Made her look at him. "But you can be who you are now. Different doesn't mean broken. Different doesn't mean useless."

"Tell that to the part of me that feels like I'm walking through fog. Like the world isn't quite real anymore."

He wanted to fix it. Wanted to hunt down Baba Konstantine and demand she reverse it. But magic didn't work that way. Prices were paid. Sacrifices made. Permanent.

"I'm still here," he said instead. "Still your mate. Still your alpha. This doesn't change that."

"Doesn't it? I can't feel you properly. Can't..." She stopped. Looked away. "I can't even feel when you're inside me. Can't feel skin on skin the way I used to. How is that not a change?"

Ah. That was the fear. Not just losing touch. Losing intimacy. Losing the physical connection that bonded mates.

"You feel me through the bond," he said. "That's stronger than any physical sensation. That's soul-deep. That's..."

"Not enough!" The words burst out. Raw.

Desperate. "I want to feel you. Want to feel your hands on my skin. Want to know the difference between your touch and anyone else's. But I can't. It's all just...pressure. And it's not enough."

He pulled her close. Let her cry against his chest. Felt her shaking. Felt her grief for what she'd lost.

"Then we'll find new ways," he said. "New touches. New connections. We'll adapt."

"How?"

"I don't know yet. But we will. Because you're my mate. My Luna. And I'm not losing you to this. To magic or grief or anything else."

She held him. He felt it through the bond, her fear, her loss, her desperate hope that maybe he was right. Maybe they could adapt.

They stayed there. By the lake. Under stars. Finding comfort not in touch but in presence. In the bond that connected them deeper than skin.

Eventually, they went back. To the cabin. To pack. To Katya recovering in the guest room.

"I'm sorry," Katya said when Anya entered. "This is my fault. If I hadn't needed..."

"Stop." Anya sat beside her sister. "You didn't ask for any of this. You didn't ask to be implanted. To be controlled. To have your memories stolen. None of this is your fault."

"But you paid the price. Twice."

"Because you're my sister. Because that's what family does. We pay prices for each other." She managed a smile. Small. Sad. "Even when those prices are steep."

Katya reached out. Took Anya's hand. "I wish I remembered you. Remembered us. But even without memories..." She squeezed. "I'm glad you're my sister."

Anya felt the pressure. Not the warmth. Not the details. But the intent. The love her sister was trying to convey.

It was something.

Not enough. But something.

"Me too," she said.

Marcus appeared in the doorway. "We've got movement. Three vehicles. Coming in fast."

Everyone was on their feet. Weapons drawn. Ready for attack.

"IFF?" Dimitri demanded. Identify Friend or Foe.

"Unknown. No markings. High-end vehicles. Could be Project Seventh. Could be..."

The vehicles stopped outside. Doors opened. Figures emerged.

One of them was Baba Konstantine.

The others, older women. Dressed in similar layered scarves and shawls. Six of them. All radiating power. All witches.

"Baba," Dimitri said. Stepping forward. Blocking Anya. "What are you doing here?"

"Coming to fix my mistake," the old witch said. "I told the Luna the price would be steep. I did not know it would be this steep. Magic miscalculated. Took too much."

"You can reverse it?" Anya pushed past Dimitri. Hope in her voice.

"No. Magic does not reverse. But..." Baba Konstantine gestured to the other witches. "We can mitigate. Can restore some of what was taken. Not all. Never all. But some."

"What's the price?" Dimitri asked. Always suspicious.

"No price. This is my error to fix. Magic should have taken memories again. Or strength. Or sight. Not touch. Touch is too essential. Too cruel." She looked at Anya. "I came to offer repair. If you want it."

"What would you restore?" Anya asked.

"Enough to function. Enough to feel your mates. Your pack. Your sister. The world will still feel distant. But not absent." Baba Konstantine moved closer. "This is the best I can offer. Take it or leave it. Choose now."

Anya looked at Dimitri. At her pack. At Katya. Then back at the witch.

"What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. Just stand still. Let us work." The old witch smiled. "This will hurt. Magic always hurts. But the pain will pass. And you will feel again. Not perfectly. But enough."

"Do it."

The witches formed a circle. Around Anya. Chanting in that old language. The one that made reality bend.

Light. Not from candles. From them. From their hands. Their voices. Their power.

Anya screamed. Dimitri felt it through the bond, pain, searing, unbearable. He tried to go to her. Marcus held him back.

"Don't break the circle. You'll kill her."

So he watched. Helpless. As his mate suffered. As the witches worked. As magic tried to unmake what it had done.

The light faded. The chanting stopped. Anya collapsed.

Dimitri was there. Catching her. Holding her.

"Anya? Talk to me."

She opened her eyes. Tears streaming. "I can feel you. Your hands. Your warmth. It's..." She laughed. Broken. Relieved. "It's not perfect. It's maybe sixty percent. But it's there. I can feel you."

"Thank god."

Baba Konstantine was already leaving. The other witches following. "Remember this, Luna. Magic demands prices. But magic also has honor. It corrects its mistakes. Sometimes."

Then they were gone. Disappeared into the night like they'd never existed.

Anya held Dimitri's hand. Testing. Feeling. "It's fuzzy. Like touching through thick gloves. But I can feel texture. Temperature. Details." She looked up at him. "I can feel you."

"That's enough. More than enough."

They went inside. To rest. To recover. To process everything that had happened.

Katya was there. Waiting. "You okay?"

"Better. Not perfect. But better." Anya sat beside her sister. "How about you? How are you feeling?"

"Weird. Empty. Like I should remember things I don't." Katya looked at Anya. "But also...grateful. You saved me. Multiple times. Even though I don't remember being your sister, I know you are. I feel it."

"That's enough. For now. The rest...memories, connection, family...we'll rebuild it. Together."

"Together," Katya agreed.

The pack gathered. Exhausted. Wounded. But alive. Together.

"Project Seventh is still coming," Alexei said. Breaking the moment. "Eleanor has a bounty on us. Every mercenary in the world is hunting us. We can't stay here much longer."

"Then we move," Dimitri said. "We go on the offensive. We hit them where they live. We end this."

"How?" Nikolai asked. "They're everywhere.

Unlimited resources. Government backing. How do we fight that?"

Anya smiled. Cold. Dangerous. "We expose them. Every operation. Every name. Every dirty secret. We make them so toxic, so public, that they can't hide anymore. Can't operate in shadow."

"And when they come for us?" Alexei asked.

"Then we're ready. Because we're done running. Done hiding. Done being prey." She looked at each of them. "We're pack. We're family. And we protect what's ours. Always."

The bond sang. Four people connected. Bound by more than blood or biology. Bound by choice. By love. By sacrifice.

They would fight. They would probably die.

But they would do it together.

As pack.

As family.

As the Volkovs.