บททั้งหมดของ THE PAKHAN'S STOLEN OMEGA: บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

POV: AnyaAnya's ribs screamed with every breath as she stood before the High Council seventy-two hours later. Galina's healing had closed the wounds but couldn't eliminate the pain, magic accelerated natural processes, didn't replace them. She'd insisted on the minimal treatment, wanting to stay combat-ready.Because Dimitri's jamming signal was degrading. They had hours, maybe a day, before the four remaining Objectives' neural implants reactivated. Four operatives, four targets, scattered across three continents. And Anya's team had to stop all of them before Project Seventh could adapt."Intel analysis is complete," Dimitri reported to the assembled Council. He looked exhausted, hadn't slept since the Moscow assault, too busy extracting data from captured servers. "Based on deployment patterns and target profiles, we've identified probable locations for each Objective."A map illuminated on the chamber's central display. Four red markers pulsed ominously: Geneva, Cairo, Singapore,

POV: Multiple (Rotating between Anya, Nikolai, and Alexei)TOKYO - 0557 LOCAL TIMEAnyaThe Tokyo facility squatted in an industrial district near the waterfront, disguised as a pharmaceutical research center. Thirty stories of concrete and glass, bristling with security that looked corporate but was decidedly military. Anya crouched on a neighboring building's roof with Alexei and Dimitri, watching the target through night-vision optics."Four hundred signatures on thermal," Dimitri reported. "Sixty percent in the lower levels... that's where they keep the children. Twenty percent upper floors... administration and research. Twenty percent moving... security patrols.""Hybrid defenders?" Anya asked."Fifteen confirmed, possibly more shielded by lead-lined rooms."Fifteen hybrids against their strike team of thirty wolves and ten vampires. Bad odds, but Anya had faced worse."All teams report status," she said into her comm.Across the globe, responses came in:"Lagos team ready." Nik

POV: Anya SIX MONTHS AFTER THE BONDING Anya's pregnancy was showing now, a definitive swell beneath her clothing that made her feel both powerful and vulnerable. She stood in what would become the nursery, watching contractors install the final touches: walls painted in soft neutrals, a ceiling mural of wolves running beneath stars (Irina's work), furniture crafted from Siberian oak by pack artisans who'd insisted on contributing. "You should be resting," Galina chided from the doorway, medical bag in hand for the weekly checkup. The old pack doctor had become fiercely protective of Anya's pregnancy, understandable, given that no True Luna had conceived in five centuries, and never from a triad bond. "I've been resting for three hours. I'm going stir-crazy." Anya turned from the window, one hand unconsciously cradling her belly. "Besides, the baby's fine. I can feel her through the bond." "Her?" Galina's eyebrows rose. "You know the gender?" "Not officially. But I... sense her.

POV: Dimitri ONE YEAR AFTER NADIA'S BIRTH Dimitri stood in his command center—a room in the Volkov mansion that Anya had dubbed "Paranoia Central"—staring at data that shouldn't exist. For three weeks, he'd been tracking anomalies: encrypted communications using Project Seventh protocols, financial transactions from accounts that should have been frozen, personnel movements that matched the organization's operational patterns. Project Seventh was dead. He'd seen the facilities destroyed, the leadership executed, the research confiscated. Yet the data suggested otherwise. Something—or someone—was operating using their methods. "You're spiraling," Nikolai observed from the doorway, carrying coffee Dimitri didn't remember requesting. "I can feel it through the bond. What's wrong?" "Everything. Nothing. I don't know." Dimitri accepted the coffee, grateful for his brother's intuition. "Look at this traffic analysis. Seven nodes communicating in cipher patterns identical to Project Sev

POV: Nadia EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD Nadia Volkova stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the Volkov estate, her wings partially manifested—something she did when thinking deeply. The iridescent membranes caught the morning light, casting rainbow patterns across the snow-covered ground. She was supposed to be at university right now, attending her international relations lecture. Instead, she was here, wrestling with a decision that would define the rest of her life. The letter crinkled in her pocket. She didn't need to read it again—she'd memorized every word three days ago when it arrived. An invitation from the High Council. An offer. A future. They wanted her to become the first supernatural-human liaison officer. A position created specifically for her, acknowledging her unique heritage and the symbolic weight she'd carried her entire life. She'd coordinate between human governments and supernatural factions, mediate disputes, represent the next generation of integration. It wa