All Chapters of THE PAKHAN'S STOLEN OMEGA: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

The underground poker room reeked of cigar smoke and bad decisions. Anya Brooks...though that wasn't remotely her real name, wove between tables with practiced grace, her tray balanced perfectly despite the three-inch heels that were absolute murder on her arches.Twenty-three years of training for one night. One mission. One chance.She'd rehearsed every detail. The way her dress hugged her curves without screaming desperation. How her dark hair fell across one shoulder, exposing her neck in a gesture that looked accidental but had taken hours to perfect. Even the subtle sway of her hips as she walked, engineered to draw male attention without triggering their predator instincts.And the perfume. God, the perfume alone had cost Project Seventh six months of research and enough money to fund a small military operation. Synthesized to smell like pack to a werewolf. Like belonging. Like the one thing these apex predators spent centuries searching for and rarely found.Like mate.Around

The room was a gilded cage, and Anya had approximately thirty seconds to figure out how screwed she actually was.Dimitri deposited her inside with all the ceremony of a cat dropping a dead mouse on a doorstep. "Get comfortable. You're going to be here a while.""How long is 'a while'?""Depends on how cooperative you decide to be." He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Alexei's having Viktor run a full background check. Should have preliminary results in an hour or two. If your story holds up...""It will.""...then maybe we'll discuss your living arrangements. Until then, you stay here." His ice-blue eyes tracked her movements as she walked further into the room. "The windows are reinforced and alarmed. The door locks from the outside. There's a panic button in the bathroom in case of emergencies, but I wouldn't recommend testing it unless you're actually dying.""What constitutes an emergency?""Fire. Imminent death. Alien invasion." His lips quirked. "Use your judgment.

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 be