Page 1 of Captured By the Russian Wolf

CHAPTER 1

Lily

The dim glow of the bar cast long shadows over the sleek wooden tables. It was the kind of place where secrets and deals were exchanged in whispers. I knew what I was walking into the moment I stepped through the heavy oak doors—everything was carefully planned. Every step I took, every glance I gave, and even the simple elegance of my dress was part of a game I had been preparing for months. A game I had no intention of losing.

I wasn't here by accident.

The air inside was heavy with smoke, the smell of expensive cigars lingering in the space between voices that spoke in hushed tones. I let my gaze drift around the room, catching the subtle nods exchanged between men in tailored suits. Mafia. All of them. And him? He was the king among them.

Nikita Volkov.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted him, seated at a table surrounded by his men. He didn't need to speak to assert his dominance—it was clear in the way his presence filled the room,how his lieutenants leaned in when he so much as moved a muscle. Nikita Volkov wasn't just another man in the Russian Bratva; he wastheman. Ruthless, dangerous, and the one person I had spent years tracking.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat louder than the last, but I kept my face impassive. To everyone else, I was just another woman looking for a drink. I swallowed the rising panic, forcing my breathing to slow. This was it. This was the moment I'd been waiting for—my first move in a much larger plan. A plan that would either bring me face-to-face with the man responsible for my husband's death or kill me for even trying.

I took a seat at the far end of the bar, close enough to be noticed, but far enough that I wouldn't be obvious. The bartender raised a brow, waiting for my order.

"Whiskey. Neat."

My voice was steady, but my hands trembled ever so slightly as I took the glass he handed me. I raised it to my lips, the burn of the alcohol grounding me, and I allowed myself one more glance in Nikita's direction. His dark hair was slicked back, his sharp jawline catching my eye as he sat back in his chair, one hand wrapped around a glass of amber liquid.

He was speaking to one of his men, but even from across the room, I could feel the weight of his presence. I felt my body freeze. He looked nothing like I imagined. I had pictured a brute, a monster with no humanity left in him. But he was… different. He wasn't just dangerous—he was handsome in a way that made you forget to breathe if you stared too long.

Stop it, Lily. You're not here to admire him.

I tried to force myself to look away, to remember why I was really here. Nikita Volkov wasn't just any man; he was the head of the Bratva, responsible for the murder of my husband, Alexei. Every time I thought of that night—of Alexei's cold, lifeless body lying in a pool of blood—I felt the rage boiling up insideme, threatening to drown me in its fury. This wasn't just about revenge. It was about justice. It was about making him pay for what he had taken from me.

I held his gaze for a fraction of a second before looking away, pretending not to care, though every fiber of my being was screaming to run. This wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't supposed to notice me so soon.

A few moments passed, and just as I began to wonder if I'd made a mistake, I heard the low murmur of footsteps approaching. I kept my eyes on my drink, heart racing as the sound grew closer. Then, suddenly, there was a presence beside me, one that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It felt like his presence alone was enough to make others sit straighter, speak softer, and watch their words. Even though I had prepared for this moment, my mind suddenly went blank when I knew he was there.

This was it.

I took a slow sip of my whiskey, my heartbeat loud in my ears.Stay calm, I reminded myself.You're here for a reason. Don't let him get to you.But when I set the glass down, I nearly jumped as a voice broke through the low hum of the bar.

"You're not from around here."

The voice was deep, thick with a Russian accent, and sent a shiver down my spine. I glanced up and saw him standing beside me—Nikita Volkov himself. Up close, he was even more intimidating. His tailored suit clung to his powerful frame, and his eyes—those impossibly dark eyes—locked onto mine, holding me in place. They were cold, calculating, yet filled with a depth that hinted at something more beneath the surface. I tried not to get lost in them.

"No," I replied, forcing a calm I didn't feel. "I'm not."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk. "What brings you to a place like this, then?"

I shrugged, playing the role of the casual stranger. "Just needed a change of scenery."

He took the seat next to me, his presence overwhelming, and set his glass on the bar. The scent of his cologne—something dark and expensive—wrapped around me as he leaned in slightly. I shivered as his warmth touched my arm and threatened to invade me further.

"People don't just wander in here for a change of scenery." His voice was quiet, almost teasing, but I didn't miss the edge in his tone. He was suspicious, and rightfully so. Men like him weren't easily fooled.

I smiled, focusing my attention on making him chase me. "Maybe I like the thrill of the unknown."

His eyes darkened slightly, amusement flashing in them for a brief moment. "The unknown can be dangerous."

My smile widened as I held his gaze. He didn't know just how dangerous I could be. Not yet, at least.

We fell into a silence, one that felt heavier with every passing second. I knew I needed to steer this conversation, to keep him intrigued but not alarmed. My plan was simple: get close enough to him to kill him, deliver the final blow when he least suspected it and then… well, I hadn't let myself think too far beyond that.

Revenge wasn't supposed to be complicated.

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