The Wolf, the Demon, and Their Omega

Chapter Eleven

SASHA

Akane Fukiyama moves through the boutique like she owns it. She does.

"This one."

She holds up black silk that makes my mouth go dry. The dress would turn Mina from student to something else entirely. Something that makes my wolf pace beneath my skin.

"I couldn't—"

"You will." Akane doesn't do requests. "My son's bride deserves beautiful things. Besides." Her smile cuts sharp. "The boys need reminded what they're protecting."

Two hours we've been here. Two hours of Mina in clothes that test every shred of control I've manufactured over seventeen years. The boutique staff hover at careful distance, recognizing apex predators at play.

"Try it." Kenji sprawls across Italian leather, all lazy heat and bad intentions. "For educational purposes."

"Education." Mina takes the dress. "Sure. That's what we're calling it."

She disappears behind silk curtains. I track her by sound—zipper sliding, fabric whispering secrets, her quiet "f**k" when she sees herself.

"Problem?"

"No. Just—someone needs to zip this."

All four of us stand. Akane's laugh fills the space.

"Sasha. The others wait."

The dressing room door closes behind me. Suddenly we're breathing the same air in a space too small for what pulses between us.

Mina faces the mirror, holding silk against her chest. The zipper starts low. Criminal low. Vertebrae march up her spine like invitation, skin shifting from warm brown to pale cream where sun doesn't touch.

"Today would be good."

"Patience."

I step close. Close enough her cold meets my perpetual winter. My fingers find the zipper but don't pull. Instead I trace her spine, watch goosebumps rise.

"Sasha."

"Mm?"

"Public place."

"Private room." My mouth finds her neck. "Very private."

"The pack—"

"Can wait."

I pull the zipper. Slow. Each tooth clicking into place like countdown. The dress molds to her like second skin, black silk turning her into something my wolf wants to claim again. Harder. Where everyone can see.

"Look at you."

Our eyes meet in glass. Hers gone dark, pupils blown wide.

"Just a dress."

"Nothing about you is just anything."

The moment stretches taut. Her back pressed to my chest, my hands spanning her waist, both of us watching our reflection like it holds answers. I want to mess her hair. Want to mark her throat purple. Want to bend her over—

"If you're done eye-f*****g, some of us want to see."

Mina laughs, spell breaking. "Caught."

"Not doing anything."

"Yet." She turns, goes up on toes, kisses me hard and fast. "Later."

That promise will torment me for hours.

We exit to appreciative noises. Even Lysander looks impressed, though he expresses it by suggesting creative ways the dress could be weaponized.

"Perfect." Akane waves at hovering staff. "We'll take it. The blue. The red thing that barely counts as fabric. Now shoes."

"Mrs. Fukiyama—"

"Akane. Or Mother, once you're official." She links arms with Mina. "No arguments. I've waited Kenji's whole life to spoil a daughter."

The shoe section becomes exercise in torture. Mina in heels that make her legs impossible. Adrian kneeling to fasten ankle straps with fingers that linger. Kenji painting her toenails matte black because "yakuza wives need edge." Lysander making unhelpful commentary about how stilettos double as weapons.

And me watching. Cataloging. The way she bites her lip when shoes pinch. How heels change her walk—predator given extra inches to hunt from. The flush crawling up her throat when she catches us staring.

"Ridiculous. All of you."

"Invested." Adrian corrects. "In you. In keeping you."

"Even shoes?"

"Especially shoes."

Akane observes our dynamic with calculating eyes. Then, sudden as violence:

"There are stories."

We freeze. Even staff sense the shift, fading back like trained ghosts.

"What stories?"

"Old ones. About dragons who shared mates." She lights a cigarette with jade lighter. "My grandmother told them, when she thought children weren't listening."

"Tell us."

Smoke curls like memory. "Dragons were never monogamous. Too much power in the blood. One mate couldn't hold it all without burning."

"So they shared?"

"Created bonds. Usually three, sometimes four." Her gaze touches each of us. "Five was considered impossible. Too much conflicting energy. The mates would combust."

"We're not full dragons." Mina sits careful, designer shoes forgotten. "Just diluted—"

"Perhaps that saves you. Full dragons would've torn each other apart by now. But you?" She exhales. "Human enough to choose cooperation. Dragon enough to need it."

"The stories—what happened to them?"

"What happens to all beautiful things. Someone decided they were too dangerous to exist."

A bell chimes. Not the shop's. Akane checks her phone, expression shifting to something cruel.

"Speaking of dangerous." She stands. "Come. Let me show you what happens to those who threaten what's mine."

We follow through a door marked PRIVATE. Stairs descend to basement that shouldn't exist—too big for the building above. Fluorescent lights flicker over concrete and steel.

Three men kneel in the center. Hands zip-tied, mouths duct-taped, eyes wide with the kind of fear that comes from understanding exactly how f****d you are.

"These gentlemen." Akane circles them. "Thought to approach my son's school. Thought to make offers for his fiancée. Thought the Fukiyama clan had gone soft."

One tries to speak through tape. She backhands him casual, his head snapping sideways.

"The Calabrese family." She indicates the first. "Offering fifteen million. The Kim syndicate." The second. "Twenty million plus breeding rights. And this one." She stops at the third. "FBI. Supernatural division."

My blood cools. Federal attention is never good.

"He had questions. About dragons. About recent engagements. About children who smell like myth." She produces a knife. Simple steel, nothing special except the hand holding it. "I have answers."

The blade opens his throat neat as surgery. Blood hits concrete in rhythmic spurts while he gurgles through tape.

"We are yakuza." She opens the second throat. "We are dragon blood wearing demon skin." The third. "We do not suffer threats to our children."

Three bodies twitch toward stillness. Akane hands the bloody knife to a subordinate who appears from shadow.

"Clean this. Send the heads to their employers. Let them understand."

She turns to us. Blood dots her cheek like beauty mark.

"Lesson one: Family protects family. Always." She touches Kenji's face with clean hand. "Lesson two: Never let them see you coming."

We climb back to boutique light. No one speaks. The corpses below might be imagination except for the iron sticking in my throat.

"Now." Akane lights another cigarette like she didn't just execute three men. "Let's discuss biology."

"Biology?"

Her attention locks on Kenji. "Your mate's bite. It's waking things in your blood. Dormant things."

"The dragon—"

"Not just dragon. Your grandfather's other heritage. The part we don't discuss at family dinners." She exhales smoke. "He was oni. Full blood. The kind that gave nightmares substance."

Kenji goes still. "That's impossible."

"Is it? Your fire burns wrong for pure demon. Always has. Too hot, too hungry, too aware." She taps ash precise. "Oni fire consumes. Dragon fire creates. You got both, diluted but present. And now she's waking it all up."

"I don't—I've never wanted to—"

"Eat someone? No. The dragon blood tempers the hunger. Turns it to other appetites." Her gaze includes all of us. "But be aware. Oni traits manifest under stress. Combat. Mating. Moments when control slips."

"What traits?"

"Strength beyond demon normal. Ability to consume energy, not just flesh. And occasionally." Her smile goes sharp. "Extra mouths."

"Extra—"

"Grandfather could manifest them on his palms. Very useful in battle. Very disturbing in bed, or so grandmother implied." She stubs out the cigarette. "You'll be fine. Probably. The dragon blood should keep you mostly human-shaped."

"Mostly?"

"Biology is imprecise. Now come. You need to eat, and I need to terrorize some suppliers who think female yakuza bosses are soft touches."

We leave with bags and knowledge and the memory of blood on concrete. The drive back to Blood Moon passes in charged silence. Mina sits between Kenji and me, her thigh pressed against mine, his hand on her knee. Small touches that burn through fabric.

The parking lot tells us something's wrong before we exit the car. Students clustered in faction groups—wolves with wolves, vampires huddled near the entrance, witches drawing protection circles in chalk. All watching. Waiting.

"Trouble."

"Always."

Chase Harrison breaks from the wolf pack. Same beta who hit on Mina first day. But now he's got backup—six wolves, all testosterone and poor judgment.

"Bolkonsky."

"Harrison."

"Heard you've been playing house. Going soft." His eyes find Mina. "Must be some magical p***y to tame the F4."

Temperature spikes. Kenji's about to demonstrate exactly what oni fire does to flesh. I raise a hand.

"Say that again."

"What? That you're whipped? That the Winter Prince follows his d**k now instead of—"

I move.

My hand closes around his throat. Lift him easy as breathing. His pack starts forward but stops when I let the wolf show—just eyes and teeth, enough to remind them what I am beneath the designer clothes.

"Let me explain something." My voice comes out wrong, too many teeth shaping words. "She's ours. Claimed. Protected. Anyone who disrespects her—"

I squeeze. His eyes bulge.

"—disrespects us. And we don't tolerate disrespect."

I drop him. He gasps on asphalt while his pack circles nervous. The entire lot watches. Waiting to see if the F4 still has fangs.

Jessica pushes through the crowd, throat still bruised purple from Mina's fingers.

"This is exactly the problem. You're compromised. Sharing some omega w***e instead of—"

Mina moves. Faster than yesterday, faster than human. She's got Jessica against a car, not choking but close. Very close.

"Finish that sentence."

"You can't keep hiding behind them."

"Not hiding." Mina smiles. I see the predator she'll become. "Just choosing not to show you what I really am. Yet."

She leans in. Whispers something that drains color from Jessica's face.

"You're lying."

"Want to find out?"

Jessica runs. Actually runs. Her followers scatter like startled birds.

"What did you tell her?"

"How anacondas feed. In detail." Mina's grin shows too many teeth. "With emphasis on the digestion process."

But the crowd hasn't dispersed. If anything, more emerge from buildings. Different factions that usually maintain distance. All watching with intent that makes my wolf rise.

"Inside. Now."

We move as unit. They follow.

The ambush happens between buildings. Vampires drop from above—daywalkers old enough to handle indirect sun. Wolves flank. Witches block retreat with barriers that smell like burnt herbs.

"Really?" Lysander sounds bored. "This is the plan?"

Matteo Calabrese steps forward. Paolo's youngest brother, nineteen and stupid with power.

"The families have decided. You're a liability. Time for new leadership."

"The families can f**k off."

"Such language. But then, you're not much prince anymore. Just another p***y-whipped—"

They attack coordinated. Planned.

They've made a critical error.

They think we've gone soft.

I let the wolf out enough to play. Bones crack and reshape. Claws extend. The world sharpens to pack and prey and threat.

Chase tries for Mina. His arm breaks in three places, wet snap echoing off brick. He screams high and thin.

Adrian blurs into motion. Young vampires think speed means victory. Adrian knows better. Blood paints concrete, none of it his.

Kenji goes full demon—not oni, not yet—but fire given form. Witch barriers burn like tissue. Hair catches. Skin blisters. They scatter screaming.

Lysander doesn't fight. Reality fights for him. Attackers stumble through space that shouldn't exist. One witch ends up in the swimming pool. Another materializes locked in a car trunk. Physics becomes suggestion.

And Mina—

Mina partially shifts.

Arms first. Scales where skin should be. Muscle coiling with strength that makes even wolves step back. She catches a vampire mid-leap, throws him hard enough to crack concrete.

"Anyone else?"

The fight ends fast as it started. Bodies down but breathing. Blood painting abstract patterns. The F4 standing untouched in the center.

"We've gone soft." I address survivors. Let my voice carry. "Forgotten our place. Would you like another demonstration?"

Silence.

"Thought not."

Security arrives late. They survey damage with practiced blindness. Just another Tuesday at Blood Moon.

"Clean this up." I step over Chase's whimpering form. "And spread word. Next time, we don't hold back."

We walk away casual. Like we didn't just dismantle three factions without breaking sweat.

"Fun." Adrian wipes blood off his hands. "Should do it more often."

"They'll try again." Mina's scales fade to skin. "This was just testing."

"Let them come." Kenji still steams. "I've got plenty of fire."

She's right though. This was probe. Real players will move now.

My phone rings as we reach the pack room. Father. Of course.

I step away for privacy. Some conversations need space.

"You let the yakuza claim her."

"She chose."

"You let her choose wrong."

"I claimed her. We all did. The engagement is strategy."

Silence that costs lives in Moscow. "The Bolkonsky lawyers contacted me. Reminded me your inheritance remains protected."

Protected. He can't touch grandfather's billions, can't access Siberian territories that honor old names over new violence.

"As it should be."

"Your mother would weep."

"Mother's dead. Her tears dried with her."

More silence. Then: "There's something else. About Viktor."

My brother's name still cuts. Three years and the wound won't close.

"What?"

"The vampires talk. Say there's movement in the old peace negotiations. The ones Viktor worked."

"Viktor's dead."

"Is he? We found blood. Stories. No body."

"The elders said—"

"The elders lie when convenient. Someone's asking questions in Petersburg. Federal investigators. The kind that don't officially exist."

My blood cools. "Why now?"

"Your omega's parents were federal. Both had clearance higher than an average fed's. Now their daughter marries yakuza while bound to the Volkov heir?" He laughs bitter. "Connect dots, Sasha."

"You think Viktor—"

"I think dragons don't die quiet. And hunters get sloppy when they think they've won."

The implications hit hard. Viktor working for peace. Federal investigators. Dragons hunted systematically.

"Send what you have."

"Already sent. Check encrypted files." Pause. "Be careful. The Bolkonsky name protects you from me. Won't protect you from dragon hunters."

He hangs. I stand there processing. Viktor. My brother who vanished chasing impossible dreams. Who might not be dead. Who might connect to whatever killed Mina's parents.

I return to find pack in various states of cleanup. Adrian picking blood from under nails. Kenji still running hot. Lysander pleased with himself.

And Mina watching me with eyes that see too deep.

"Bad news?"

"Complicated news." I pull her close because I need contact. "Viktor might connect to your parents. Federal investigators are sniffing around. Someone's been hunting dragons systematically."

"The archives." She looks at Kenji. "How soon?"

"After the wedding. Three weeks."

"Can we survive three weeks?"

"We just took apart three factions easy." Adrian stretches lazy. "We'll manage."

But I'm not sure. Easy fights are over. Now come the real predators. The ones who've hunted dragons for decades. Who know how to kill permanently.