It’s been two hours since we landed in Russia, and Katya hasn’t stopped talking since we got off the plane. Not that I mind—it’s actually kind of nice to hear her voice instead of the silence we’ve been sharing most of the time—but it’s starting to wear on me. She’s been going on about her family, her mother, and some cottage in the Visokaya mountains that was left for her. A place she hasn’t seen in years.“...so I think we could head there today,” Katya’s saying as we walk towards our rental car. “The cottage isn’t far, maybe a few hours’ drive. It’s small, but it’ll be perfect for starting fresh. I can’t believe it’s still in the family, considering my mother and I... well, we don’t talk anymore.”She pauses, glancing up at me, probably expecting some kind of response. I nod, forcing a smile. “Sounds like a good place to start over.”I’m half-listening, mostly because my mind keeps wandering. The cold air, the familiar scent of the trees, the earth, the way the sky stretches over
The cottage looked like it had been forgotten for years when we first walked in. Dust covered every surface, and the furniture was all mismatched and worn, but underneath all that, I could see its charm. It’s small but cosy, and the location is perfect—tucked away in the mountains, away from everyone and everything.We spent the whole afternoon cleaning up. Ruslan was more helpful than I expected, taking charge of the heavy lifting, repairing the heating system, and getting the hot water running again. Every time I tried to do something even slightly strenuous, he would stop me, reminding me that I’m pregnant, as if I’d forgotten.“Katya, put that down. You shouldn’t be lifting that,” he’d say, his voice gruff but caring.At first, I found it a little annoying, but as the day went on, I realised he was just looking out for me. He wasn’t bossy or overbearing, just ... careful. It was strange, having someone take care of me like that. After everything we’ve been through, I didn’t expe
The small town is quiet, nestled in the valley just a short drive from the cottage. It’s charming, with narrow streets, colourful storefronts, and locals who seem to know everyone. As we step out of the car, I feel a little out of place. I’ve been in here before, but it’s been so long, and this town feels like it belongs to another time—far removed from everything I’ve known in the past few years.Ruslan, on the other hand, seems completely at ease. He strides confidently down the street, his broad shoulders and rugged appearance standing out, but not in a way that makes anyone wary. Quite the opposite. The locals seem to gravitate toward him, nodding in greeting or offering a quick word as we pass by.I try to keep up, feeling like a ghost as Ruslan does all the talking. His Russian flows effortlessly, a deep drawl that makes my ears perk up every time he speaks. It’s the first time I’ve heard him really speak his mother tongue, and there’s something about it that sends a warm shive
The night air is crisp against my skin as I shift into my wolf form, the bones and muscles twisting, reshaping, until I’m no longer a man but something wild, something raw. The transformation feels natural, like slipping into an old, familiar coat I’d forgotten I still owned. It’s been too long since I’ve let myself run like this, since I’ve let my wolf have control.I take off into the woods behind the cottage, my paws hitting the earth with a steady rhythm. The wind rushes past me, carrying the scent of the trees, the damp earth, and the faintest hint of snow. Everything feels sharper, clearer, as if the night itself is alive, breathing with me.This is what I’ve needed. To run. To breathe. To remember who I am without all the weight of the past, without the constant need to fight or survive. Out here, in the mountains, it’s just me and the wild. No expectations. No battles. No broken promises.My mind is clear. Free. Out here, there’s no past, no future—just the present, just the r
I wake up with a start, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. Sweat clings to my skin, my breath coming in shallow gasps. For a moment, I’m convinced something’s wrong, that something’s about to happen. The air feels thick, heavy with fear, and it takes me a second to realise... it’s not mine.It’s not my fear I’m feeling.Just as I come to that realisation, I hear it—a soft, almost broken whimper coming from down the hall. Ruslan.Without thinking, I throw the blankets off and rush toward his room. The door is already cracked open, and as I push it wider, my stomach drops.Ruslan is in the middle of a night terror, his massive body thrashing under the sheets, sweat drenching his bare chest. His fists are clenched tightly, the muscles in his neck bulging from the strain, and his face is twisted in a mask of agony. He’s muttering under his breath, his words barely audible, but I can hear enough to know he’s trapped in some nightmare.“Ruslan,” I call softly, stepping clo
I wake up alone.The space next to me is cold, which means Katya must have been up for a while now. The room is dim, the early morning light barely creeping through the curtains, and for a moment, I just lie there, staring at the ceiling. My body feels heavy, my mind still foggy from sleep, but I’m not thinking about the nightmare that woke me last night.I’m thinking about her.About the way she came rushing into my room, how she climbed onto the bed to pull me back from the edge of whatever hell I was trapped in. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t ask questions. She just helped. No one’s ever done that for me before—not like she did.I roll over onto my back, letting out a long breath. I’ve had night terrors for years now. They come and go, but they never really leave. It’s like they’re burned into my brain, memories I can’t escape no matter how far I run. I’ve gotten used to waking up drenched in sweat, heart racing, alone. Always alone.But last night... it was different.Katya staye
I walk along the perimeter of the cabin, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees is comforting, though my mind is anything but calm. My boots crunch against the fallen leaves and twigs, the earth solid beneath me, but everything else feels unsteady.How did I end up here?Exiled, pregnant, with the only person I can trust being the man I thought took everything from me. It’s surreal, really. Not long ago, I hated Ruslan. I thought he was nothing but a killer, a rogue who destroyed my world. Now, I’m walking around this remote cabin with him—no pack, no home, just... him. And yet, I don’t feel the fear or anger I once did.It’s strange. I trusted Andrei once. He was my husband, the Alpha. I thought I knew him, believed he was the man I was meant to spend my life with. But after everything I’ve learned, after seeing the truth of what he did, I wonder if I ever really knew him at all. How could I have been so blind?My thoughts wander b
Standing this close to Katya, I can’t keep my head straight. Everything about her pulls me in—her voice, her scent, the way her lips move when she speaks, even when she’s saying something awkward just to fill the silence. She’s nervous, I can tell, but I don’t think she realises how close she’s getting to me. She’s just talking, her words tumbling out, and I’m barely listening because all I can think about is her.How the hell did I fall this hard?I didn’t expect it. I didn’t want it. But here I am, standing here like a damn fool, completely in love with her. Every time I look at her, it hits me harder. This woman, this Luna, was once supposed to be the last person I could ever care about. The mate of the man who destroyed everything I held dear. And yet... none of that matters anymore.Andrei’s name used to make my blood boil, used to send me into a rage that I couldn’t control. But now? Knowing Katya’s pregnant with his child doesn’t make me nauseous anymore. It doesn’t fill me
I wake with a jolt, my eyes snapping open to the darkened room as a sharp, urgent voice echoes through my mind link.“Ruslan! We’ve got movement on the southern border. It’s not a drill!”It’s Anatoly. The edge in his tone cuts through the lingering fog of sleep like a blade. I’m already sitting up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, instincts kicking in before thought catches up.Katya stirs beside me, her soft breathing breaking with a groggy whisper. “Ruslan? What’s wrong?”“Go back to sleep,” I mutter, my voice low but steady, reaching for the sweats I left on the chair. “It’s nothing.”She doesn’t believe me—of course she doesn’t—but I don’t stick around to argue. I press a kiss to her forehead and head straight for the door, pulling a shirt over my head as I go.By the time I’m outside, the chill of the early morning air slaps me awake completely. The packhouse is still mostly quiet, the sun not yet breaking the horizon, but I can hear it now—distant howls, the sharp bar
I pause at the front steps of the pup center, staring at the worn wood of the door like it might swing open and swallow me whole. The knot in my stomach twists tighter, and I have to swallow down the anxiety that rises with it.I shouldn’t feel this way. I’m not the one who did anything wrong. And yet, as I stand here, I can already feel the weight of what’s waiting for me on the other side of that door.I take a breath—deep and steady—before pushing it open and stepping inside.The noise hits me first, as it always does: the sound of children laughing, playing, and the faint scurry of tiny footsteps across the floor. It’s the one thing about this place that never changes, no matter how tense the air might be.But it’s different today.The women notice me immediately. Their conversations die mid-sentence. The air shifts, thick and stifling. They don’t stare outright—no, that would take a backbone they clearly don’t have. Instead, they look past me, around me, through me, like I’m noth
I sit on the edge of the coffee table, my elbows resting on my knees, staring at Katya as she holds Milanya close to her chest. It’s quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fire, but the weight of everything I need to say hangs between us.Katya hasn’t pushed me away—not yet—but I see the guarded look in her eyes, the way she holds herself a little too still, like she’s bracing for something. It guts me more than I want to admit.I rub a hand over my face, dragging in a deep breath before I finally speak. “I need to apologize.”Her eyes flick up to meet mine, wary. “For what?”“You know what,” I say, my voice low. “For the other night. For yelling. For losing my damn temper and scaring you—and her.” I nod toward Milanya, who’s still sleeping soundly against her.Katya’s gaze softens just slightly, but she doesn’t let me off that easily. “Ruslan... it wasn’t just yelling. You were angry.”I nod, shame curling in my gut like a fist. “I was. And that’s on me. I shouldn’t have let it happ
I’m halfway to the pup center before I even realize I’ve left the cabin. My boots slam against the frozen ground, every step fueled by the burning rage twisting through my chest.Katya didn’t say much when I came home—she didn’t have to. The moment I walked in and saw her sitting on the couch, staring at nothing with that look in her eyes, I knew. Someone had hurt her. Again.And this time, I wasn’t going to let it slide.The moment I storm into the pup center, the air shifts. I can feel their gazes snap toward me—startled, wide-eyed, nervous. It’s too quiet, and that silence only pisses me off more.The door slams shut behind me with a loud thud, and I don’t stop moving until I’m standing dead center, my boots scraping against the wooden floor. Pups stop playing, their little heads snapping up, and the women standing nearby freeze in place. I scan the room, my eyes sharp and cold, locking on every single one of them as I step inside.“Which one of you did it?” My voice cuts through t
The morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting warm light across the table where Milanya is bundled in her bassinet. I stare at my cup of tea, my stomach too knotted to eat anything. The quiet of the cabin is heavy—too heavy—and the ache in my chest from last night still hasn’t eased.I can still hear Ruslan’s voice in my head, loud and furious. The look on his face, the fear in Milanya’s cries... It’s been looping in my mind all night, keeping me awake.I exhale, rubbing at my temple. It was a fight. That’s all. We were both exhausted. Stressed. He didn’t mean to lose control like that, and I didn’t mean to push him so hard. But knowing that doesn’t make it easier to shake the weight of it off.I glance at Milanya, her tiny face so peaceful in sleep, and I swallow down the guilt. At least she won’t remember any of this.The clock ticks on the wall, far too loud, and I know I can’t stay here. Sitting around this cabin all day with my thoughts circling like vultures would
The moment I step over the threshold of the packhouse, I know something’s wrong. The air feels off—too quiet, too still. The kind of quiet that makes my instincts spike, every hair on the back of my neck rising like a warning.“Katya?” I call, my voice echoing through the cabin. I don’t smell her. I don’t hear her.Nothing.I drop the bag slung over my shoulder and stalk into the living room, scanning every corner. Empty. The kitchen’s the same—pristine, untouched, like no one’s been here all day. My heart kicks into overdrive, and I shove open the door to Milanya’s room, the crib waiting silently, taunting me.Where the fuck are my family?My chest tightens. The bond, usually a hum in the back of my mind, is quiet. I reach for her through it, focusing hard, trying to feel her presence, her emotions—anything—but there’s nothing. It’s like screaming into a void.“Katya!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls as I tear through the cabin, checking every damn room again even though I
It’s been nearly a month since everything settled into something close to routine, and yet here I am, staring at the empty space on Ruslan’s side of the bed again. The sheets are cold, meaning he left hours ago. Probably before dawn. It’s been like this for weeks—him disappearing early, coming back late, exhausted, and barely saying more than a few words before collapsing into bed.I press my palm against the spot where he slept, feeling the faint traces of his warmth before sighing and rolling onto my back. The faint light of dawn creeps through the curtains, but I don’t want to get up yet. Not when the ache of frustration has been sitting in my chest for days now, growing stronger with every quiet night and every hurried morning.I know why he’s been busier lately. The solstice is approaching, and everyone in the pack has been on edge. It’s a time of heightened energy, of potential attacks, of old traditions that make the pack restless and wary. But knowing why doesn’t make it an
I stand in front of the mirror, fussing with the sleeves of my dress, trying to ignore the nerves that coil tighter and tighter in my stomach. It’s a soft blue—Ruslan’s suggestion, because he said it matched my eyes—but the color doesn’t do much to calm me. My reflection stares back at me, pale and anxious, but all I can think about is Milanya.Today is her blessing. Today she’ll be presented to the pack, and everyone will see her for the first time. Everyone.A soft noise from the crib pulls my attention. I turn and see her lying there, her tiny fists curling up near her face as she sleeps. My chest tightens. She’s so small, so perfect, and the thought of anyone looking at her the wrong way—of anyone even getting too close—makes my blood boil.She’s mine.The bond hums softly between Ruslan and me, like it always does when I feel something this strongly. I sense him before I hear him, his steady footsteps approaching.“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor pacing like that,” Rusl
The hallway is quiet as I step out of the room, leaving Katya and our daughter asleep. The soft sounds of their breathing trail after me, steadying the chaos in my chest as I close the door behind me. For a moment, I lean back against the wood, exhaling heavily. They’re safe. They’re mine. But the weight of everything still presses down like a goddamn anvil.I head toward Anatoly’s office, my feet carrying me on autopilot. The packhouse is mostly silent at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes after a storm. My hand raps against the heavy door before I step in without waiting for an answer. Anatoly’s sitting behind his desk, a bottle of whiskey already out and two glasses waiting. Typical. He looks up and grins.“Took you long enough,” he says, getting to his feet. His arms are open as he steps around the desk, and before I can dodge, he pulls me into a quick, firm hug. “Congratulations, old friend.”I grunt, patting his back awkwardly. “Yeah, thanks. Don’t make this weird.”“