Chapter Eighteen
Anika felt the alert before she heard it.
A short pulse, then a longer one — from the device on her wrist. Not an accident. Not wind.
Movement. South treeline.
Too clean to be wildlife. Too calculated for hikers.
She was already moving, boots quiet against the concrete floor of the kennel wing. Nikolai followed, silent but alert, eyes scanning every dark corner like a man who’d seen ambushes born from shadows.
Inside, the kennel held a dangerous calm.
Dogs waited in silence. No barking. No pacing. Just stillness — charged and coiled, like soldiers awaiting command.
Only Nyx and Ares remained in the house.
The rest? A storm held back.
Nikolai’s voice was low. “What’s your move?”
Anika didn’t answer at first. She walked the line, eyes flicking over her dogs.
“Echo, Delta, Major, Tango, Sarge, Lima, Zulu, Victor, Whiskey…”
Each dog stepped forward as she said their name and opened their kennel doors.
“And Alpha.”
The big red male tilted his head at her like he knew what came next.
“Ten…” Nikolai noted. “Exactly half.”
She glanced at him. “Let them think that’s all I’ve got.”
His lips twitched. “And the rest?”
“Insurance.”
She led the chosen dogs to the west gate, their paws silent, their bodies ready. Nikolai opened the reinforced door without being told.
Anika lifted her hand and gave the command in Italian.
“Andare. Cerca.”
(Go. Search.)
Cole —
Cole crouched in dense brush, sweat clinging to his neck. Binoculars tracked the movement — or tried to.
“They released dogs,” he muttered into his mic. “Ten of them.”
“Noted,” Tomasz replied through static.
Cole swallowed. “They’re not charging. They’re hunting.”
A brindle shadow slipped past no more than twenty feet away, low and silent. Cole froze.
She wasn’t reacting.
She was retaliating.
Tomasz —
Tomasz watched as bodycam footage dissolved into branches and blur.
“Stupid bastard,” he muttered. “He trained under her. He should’ve known better.”
The driver shifted uneasily. “We didn’t lose anyone.”
Tomasz flicked ash out the cracked window. “No bodies doesn’t mean no message.”
He lit another cigarette, smoke curling in his unsteady hand. “She’s not running,” he said softly. “She’s hunting.”
Anika —
The dogs returned in formation. Blood splattered some of their chests, but none limped. None fell.
Each touched her leg with their nose. Confirmation of mission complete.
She patted each one on the head “Bravo cani.” (good dogs)
Nikolai leaned against the kennel doorway, arms crossed, watching the whole process unfold with the reverence of a man witnessing something ancient.
“I told you I don’t need an army,” she said, voice tight.
“You have one anyway,” he replied.
Later, back inside, she reset perimeter alarms while Nikolai hovered near, watching schematics glow across her screens — heat signatures, elevation maps, drone overlays. War maps.
“You already built the battlefield,” he said again.
“I built it the moment I bought the land.”
She didn’t turn around when she said it. She didn’t have to.
He stepped beside her, close enough she could feel the heat off his body. That scent she couldn’t separate anymore — danger, safety, power.
“You’re always planning,” he said.
“I don’t get caught off guard,” she murmured. “Not anymore.”
“Why?” he asked, quieter now. “What happened with him? With Cole?”
She hesitated. The words were old wounds.
“He took everything I taught him and twisted it. Turned my training into something darker. Overriding pain. Rewarding violence. Conditioning dogs into weapons. He sedated them. Beat them. Sold them.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands. “He used my methods to break things I loved.”
Nikolai was silent for a long moment.
Then: “Why didn’t you kill him?”
“Because I used to believe people could change.”
“And now?”
She shrugged. “Now I believe in dogs more than people.”
He reached for the same schematic she was holding, hand brushing hers. She didn’t move away.
“You baited them tonight,” he said.
“I gave them a taste.”
“You think it’ll make them back off?”
“I hope it makes them come harder.”
He raised a brow. “Why?”
“Because next time, I won’t send a message,” she said. “I’ll send a grave.”
Their eyes locked again.
No tension this time. No battle lines. Just weight. And truth. And something else building in the silence.
Nikolai stepped closer. “You were made for war,” he said, voice low but not cruel. “But you don’t have to live in it alone.”
She turned away, bracing her hands on the table like she needed something to hold her together. “Don’t offer me comfort just because I let you stay.”
“I’m not offering comfort,” he said, coming up behind her. His voice brushed the back of her neck like a storm about to break. “I’m offering truth.”
She stiffened at his nearness.
“I don’t know what this thing is between us,” he said, softer now. “But I know I’d burn the world down if someone hurt you.”
Anika’s breath caught. That was too much. Too close.
Her jaw tensed. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
His hand came to rest beside hers on the table — not touching, just anchoring near it. The heat of him made her pulse jump.
“I won’t lie to you,” he said. “Not ever.”
She turned. Now they were chest to chest, breath to breath, tension strung like a live wire.
“You think you can handle me?” she asked, whisper sharp.
He leaned in, voice rough. “I want to handle you.”
Her lips parted in anticipation, betraying her restraint. His knuckles grazed her jaw, slid lightly along her throat. Possessive. Promising.
Her pulse hammered against her skin. Every nerve begged her to lean in, close the gap.
“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.
He smiled — dark, wicked. “So are you.”
Their foreheads nearly touched. Breath mingled. The air thickened.
It wasn’t a kiss. But it wasn’t not a kiss either.
Her voice was hoarse. “I don’t need anyone.”
“You don’t,” he murmured. “But you let me in anyway.”
She closed her eyes and, for one heartbeat, pressed her forehead to his chest. Solid. Warm. Real.
He didn’t move. Didn’t ruin it with words.
When she stepped back, it wasn’t rejection.
It was permission.
And he saw it in her eyes — not fear, not lust, but something deeper. A shift. Maybe even a beginning.