Chapter Twenty-Three
Anika –
The sun dipped low across the estate, slashing gold and amber light across the kitchen floorboards. Anika stepped inside from the back porch, the air behind her thick with pine and tension.
She didn’t speak. Didn’t remove her boots. Just dropped her gear bag on the counter, unzipped her jacket, and reached into the inner pocket.
The note was warm from her body heat.
She set it on the granite countertop like it might detonate, staring at the cheap fold of paper, the uneven scrawl of her name on the front.
Then, with two fingers, she unfolded it.
One line.
We know where the wolves sleep.
No signature. No marks. No blood.
But her stomach dropped like a stone in water.
They weren’t just watching her.
They knew what she cared about.
And they wanted her dogs.
Her family.
Her army.
She didn’t hear the gate open. Didn’t realize someone else had entered the house until the faint click of the front door latch made Ares lift his head from beneath the table with a soft warning chuff.
Nyx didn’t growl.
Echo, lounging in the hallway, didn’t even stir.
Anika blinked.
What the hell…?
Then came the sound of bootsteps — slow, heavy, deliberate.
She turned just as Nikolai stepped into the archway.
Dark jeans. Fitted jacket. Sunglasses pushed up on his head. His presence as sharp as a blade in a velvet sheath.
The dogs didn’t bristle.
They watched him.
Like they recognized him now.
Like they trusted him.
Nikolai’s eyes scanned the note on the counter before moving to her.
He didn’t ask questions.
He crossed the kitchen in three long strides and wrapped his arms around her from behind — slow, firm, unapologetic — his chest against her back, hands resting low at her hips.
Anika didn’t resist.
Didn’t lean away.
Didn’t speak.
She just stood there, breathing him in, letting his presence act like a dam against the flood of old fears surging through her veins.
After a long beat, his voice rumbled low at her ear. “You’re not alone anymore, sólyshko.”
His hands tightened slightly. Not possessive.
Protective.
Grounding.
Let them try.
Anika –
The weight of his arms felt like armor — not steel, but something heavier. Warmer. She let herself lean into it for just a breath longer, eyes still on the note.
“I trained them to kill,” she said quietly.
Nikolai said nothing. He didn’t need to.
“To track, to defend, to obey. But they’re not weapons to me. They’re family.”
Her voice broke a little at the end.
Nyx padded into the kitchen, brushed against her leg, and sat like a sentinel. Ares stood behind them both — silent. Watching.
“When I was a kid, after my mom…” She inhaled slowly. “My dad gave me a dog. Her name was Sunny. She slept in my bed. Walked me to the bus stop. Knew when I had nightmares.”
She turned slightly, her cheek brushing Nikolai’s shoulder.
“Someone took her from me. I didn’t get to fight for her. I swore I’d never let that happen again.”
Nikolai’s voice was a low, lethal promise. “They won’t touch your dogs. Or you. Not while I’m breathing.”
A long silence followed.
Then she turned fully to face him. Her fingers brushed the chain beneath his shirt. His hand found her jaw, thumb sweeping softly across her bottom lip.
“You don’t make it easy,” he murmured.
“Good,” she whispered back.
Then, like shadows parting before dawn, they stepped away from each other.
Not out of discomfort.
But because war doesn’t wait for tenderness.
She swept the note into her palm and moved to the office; Nikolai followed. The holographic table ignited with estate schematics and overlay feeds.
“They watched the barn,” she said, dragging up the cam near the training yard. Colored pings traced the GPS tags on her pack. “They’re checking patterns.”
“You bait them?” he asked.
“I’ll make them question every assumption.” She pulled up the dog roster. “Echo, Lima, Delta, Major — aggressive perimeter. Rotate Romeo, Tango and Scout through visible routes. Keep Juliet, Zulu, Victor on daylight lockdown. Let the rest vanish like routine.” She tapped, assigning routes. “I want them hungry.”
“You want them pissed,” he told her.
“I want them making mistakes.”
He watched the way her mind translated chaos into geometry — threat modeling as choreography. She looked dangerous and precise; she was the general of a pack that moved like a living weapon.
“And you?” she asked.
He stepped close enough to brush her shoulder with his knuckles. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
“Then follow my lead,” she said, spine straight.
He smiled — rare, small. “With pleasure.”
Twilight bled like spilled ink as Anika clipped GPS bands to heavy necks and murmured Italian commands. Delta’s brindle coat gleamed; Lima flexed like coiled steel.
“Patrol. Track. Circle the barn. Return on alert.” She watched them go — smoke and muscle dissolving into trees.
Nikolai watched from the deck post: arms crossed, silhouette sharp. He didn’t interrupt. He respected the ritual.
“You ever think of armor for them?” he said.
“You offering to bankroll it?” she shot back.
“Maybe.” He didn’t smile. “I could fund more than that.”
She passed him on the stairs; fingers brushed briefly — a signal, not a touch. Gratitude in static.
Inside, Juliet, Zulu and Victor watched from their runs. Nyx and Ares remained inside — always inside.
Tomasz —
The cam feed at the far edge of their operation stuttered in coarse grain. “Movement’s up,” the handler muttered.
“They’re widening,” another replied. “She’s extended the search lanes.”
Tomasz scrolled through jittering thumbnails — brief shadows, a dog profile pausing and vanishing into underbrush. Scout had looked straight into one lens and then melted away.
“They're flushing us,” the handler said.
“She’s hunting us,” Tomasz countered, voice low and sharp. “She’s baiting—or bluffing. Either way, she’s telling us something.”
He watched the frame where the dog paused. His lips curled. “She’s coming for us,” he said, and the room smelled of ash and ice.