Dinner at the Volchkov estate usually started elegant and ended competitive. By the time dessert arrived, Aleksandr and Nikolai were already arguing over some acquisition deal while the rest of us listened with varying levels of interest. Father sat at the head of the table, one hand resting against his temple as if he could physically feel his patience draining, while Mother calmly drank her wine beside him like this happened every night.

“Moving the shares before the board meeting was reckless,”* Aleksandr said, setting his glass down harder than necessary.*

Nikolai only shrugged, completely relaxed. “And yet it worked.”

“Because you got lucky.”

“No,” he replied smoothly, cutting into his steak. “Because you hesitate too much."

Aleksandr looked ready to launch his fork across the table. I hid my smile behind my glass, though Viktoriya caught it immediately from beside me.

“There she goes again,” she muttered dramatically. “Look at her enjoying other people’s suffering.”

“I’m not enjoying anything.”

Across the table, Mikhail snorted into his drink while Father sighed deeply. “Sometimes I wonder if raising seven children was a mistake.”

Mother glanced at him lazily. “A little late for that realization.”

A quiet laugh spread around the table after that, softening the tension almost instantly. That was how dinners usually went in our family. Arguments, sarcasm, someone getting offended for five minutes before everything settled again. Competitive, exhausting, but never truly hostile.

Viktoriya nudged my shoulder lightly.

“You’re coming with me tonight.”

I already knew where this was going. “No.”

“Oh, come on.”

I clicked my tongue softly and reached for my wine again, ignoring the amused looks from my siblings. Viktoriya kept staring at me anyway, stubborn as always.

“There’s a party tonight,” she continued. “One of my friends rented out a club downtown.”

“That somehow makes it sound worse.”

She laughed quietly before leaning closer. “Just come for a little while. You look like you’re one spreadsheet away from becoming clinically insane.”

“I hate when you’re right.”

“I know.”

The music was loud enough to drown thought itself, bass vibrating through the floor while red lights spilled across the crowd. Usually I hated places like this, but after losing count of my drinks somewhere around the fourth glass, everything felt softer around the edges. Viktoriya had disappeared again—completely useless as a sister—leaving me alone in the middle of the dance floor while strangers brushed past carelessly.

I moved with the music absentmindedly, warmth curling beneath my skin as laughter and conversation blurred into noise around me. Then a scent suddenly cut through the air sharply enough to make me pause.

Alpha.

Cold cedarwood, clean and deep beneath the heat of the club.

My movements slowed slightly before I even realized it, instinct reacting first while my eyes searched through the crowd automatically. And then I saw her.

She stood a few feet away beneath the red lights, calm compared to everyone else around her. Most alphas in places like this tried too hard without realizing it, loud in the way they carried themselves. She wasn’t. Somehow that made her impossible to ignore.

Our eyes met briefly, and heat crawled up the back of my neck almost immediately. Annoying.

I looked away first, turning back toward the music, pretending not to notice her watching me. But seconds later, the crowd shifted and suddenly she was closer. Not touching. Just there. Close enough that her scent wrapped around me properly this time, warm cedarwood settling beneath my skin while my pulse betrayed me embarrassingly fast.

I turned slowly, and she was standing right behind me now, close enough to make my breath catch slightly. Neither of us spoke. Her hand settled carefully against my waist, giving me enough time to step away if I wanted.

I didn’t.

And when she pulled me closer gently with the music, my body followed before my thoughts could.