4. Isolated

Lena.

I spent the next three days in a panic spiral. I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't focus on my final exams. All I could think about was Kieran Volkov and what he wanted with my mother—with us.

I searched online for information about him, but found almost nothing. Richard Volkov was apparently a reclusive businessman with holdings in timber, real estate, and technology. No social media presence. No interviews. No photographs. Just a handful of mentions in business journals and charity gala attendance lists.

Nothing about being an "Alpha King." Nothing about silver eyes or human auctions.

By Friday morning, I'd convinced myself of two possibilities: either this Richard Volkov was a different person with the same unusual last name, or I was walking into something dangerous. Either way, I wasn't going unprepared.

I slipped my pepper spray into my purse, along with a small knife I'd bought after the auction incident. I wrote down my mother's address and Volkov's name, then texted the information to Becky with instructions to call the police if she didn't hear from me by Monday.

The sleek black SUV arrived precisely at noon. My heart hammered as I recognized it—identical to the one that had kidnapped me months ago. The driver, a broad-shouldered man with an expressionless face, loaded my single suitcase without speaking.

"Where exactly are we going?" I asked as we pulled away from my apartment building.

"The airfield, miss," he answered in a clipped tone. "Mr. Volkov's jet is waiting."

"I meant our final destination."

The driver's eyes flicked to mine in the rearview mirror. For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of gold. "Stone Peak Estate. In the Cascades."

My stomach tightened. The mountains. Isolated. Perfect for whatever Volkov had planned.

The drive to the private airfield was tense and silent. When we arrived, a sleek white jet waited on the tarmac, its engines already humming. The driver escorted me to the stairs, then disappeared with my luggage.

I paused at the bottom of the steps, my heart racing. I could still turn back. Call an Uber. Tell my mother I was sick. But something—curiosity, fear, or maybe something deeper I couldn't name—propelled me forward.

The interior of the jet was all cream leather and polished wood. My mother sprang up from one of the plush seats, her face glowing with excitement.

"Lena! Finally!" She embraced me tightly, smelling of her favorite Chanel perfume. At fifty-two, Claire Adams was still strikingly beautiful, with the same dark hair and blue eyes she'd passed to me, though hers were enhanced by expert makeup and expensive skincare.

"Mom," I hugged her back, studying her face. "You look... happy."

"I am happy, sweetheart. Happier than I've been in years." She gestured around the luxurious cabin. "Can you believe this? Richard sent his personal jet just for us."

"Where is he?" I asked, glancing around the empty cabin.

"Already at the estate. He's preparing everything for our arrival." She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "He's hosting some kind of important business gathering this weekend. Lots of international partners, he said."

The flight attendant approached—a tall, elegant woman with perfect posture and watchful eyes. "We're ready for takeoff, Ms. Adams. Please take your seats."

During the two-hour flight, my mother chatted endlessly about Richard—how they met, his generosity, the future she envisioned. I nodded and smiled mechanically, scanning for any hint that she knew what she was walking into.

"Has Richard mentioned anything unusual about himself?" I asked carefully. "Any... special attributes?"

Mom laughed. "You mean besides being gorgeous, wealthy, and completely smitten with me? He's very private about his business. A bit old-fashioned in some ways. Protective. But that makes me feel safe, you know?"

She had no idea. Whatever Volkov was—whatever those silver-eyed men at the auction were—my mother was completely in the dark.

As the jet began its descent, I looked out the window. Endless green forest spread below us, with snow-capped mountains rising in the distance. No cities. No towns. Just wilderness.

"There it is!" My mother pointed excitedly as a massive stone structure came into view—a modern castle perched on the edge of a cliff, surrounded by dense forest. "Isn't it magnificent?"

Magnificent wasn't the word I would have chosen. Intimidating. Fortress-like. Isolated.

The jet touched down on a private runway carved into the mountainside. As we taxied to a stop, I saw a line of black SUVs waiting nearby, along with a group of men in dark suits.

"Richard sent a welcoming committee," Mom said, beaming. "He thinks of everything."

As we descended the stairs, the men moved forward with military precision. They were all large, muscular, and had the same watchful intensity as the flight attendant. Bodyguards? Or something else?

Mom rushed forward to embrace a tall figure who stepped out from the central vehicle. Even from a distance, I recognized him instantly.

Kieran Volkov.

He looked exactly as I remembered—imposing height, broad shoulders, face like carved marble. His dark hair was shorter than in my memory, neatly trimmed with distinguished silver at the temples. He wore an impeccable charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire college tuition.

My mother looked tiny in his embrace, her head barely reaching his chest as she stretched up to kiss him. The sight made my stomach turn. She had no idea what he was. What she was getting into.

Then his eyes—those unnatural silver eyes—lifted and found mine.

Recognition flashed across his face, quickly replaced by something unreadable. He whispered something to my mother, who nodded and stepped back, still beaming.

I froze as Kieran Volkov approached me, his stride purposeful, expression guarded. Up close, he was even more intimidating than I remembered—radiating power and authority that made everyone around him seem diminished.

"Lena Adams," he said, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Claire has told me so much about you."

We both knew this wasn't our first meeting. The question was—did he know I remembered him?

"Mr. Volkov," I replied, meeting his silver gaze steadily. "My mother has told me about you as well."

His mouth curved slightly—not quite a smile. "Richard, please. We're going to be family soon."

The way he said "family" made my skin crawl. I kept my expression neutral as he took my hand in his much larger one. His touch was warm—unnaturally warm—and sent a jolt of something like electricity up my arm.

Kieran's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he'd felt it too. He released my hand quickly.

"Welcome to Stone Peak," he said, gesturing toward the massive structure looming above us. "I trust your flight was comfortable?"

"Very," I said. "Though I'm curious why someone would build such an isolated estate."

"I value my privacy," he replied, his voice cooling.

My mother hurried over, looping her arm through Kieran's. "Isn't it wonderful, Lena? And wait until you see inside! Richard has the most amazing art collection."

"I look forward to the tour," I said, forcing a smile.

The drive up to the estate took less than five minutes, winding through dense forest on a private road. I sat in a separate vehicle from my mother and Kieran, accompanied by a silent driver and what I assumed was another security guard.

Stone Peak Estate was even more impressive up close—a modern interpretation of a castle, with soaring walls of glass and stone, multiple wings, and commanding views of the surrounding wilderness. It looked like it could withstand a siege.

Or keep people from escaping.

A staff of at least a dozen waited in the massive foyer—all with the same alert, watchful demeanor I was beginning to recognize. They bowed slightly as Kieran entered, the gesture more feudal than modern.

"Damon will show you to your rooms," Kieran announced. "Dinner will be served at seven. Claire, would you join me in my study to discuss the weekend's events?"

My mother practically floated to his side, playing the role of adoring fiancée to perfection. "Of course, darling. Lena, you'll love your room! Richard had it specially prepared for you."

As they disappeared down a corridor, a man stepped forward—tall and lean, with sharp features and cold blue eyes. Unlike the others, whose deference to Kieran seemed almost religious, this man—Damon—carried himself with confidence bordering on arrogance.

"Ms. Adams," he said, his voice coolly professional. "Follow me."

As we ascended a grand staircase, I gathered my courage. "So, Damon. How long have you worked for Mr. Volkov?"

"All my life," he answered without elaboration.

"And what exactly is your position here?"

He glanced back at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm the Beta."

"Beta? Like... second-in-command?"

A mirthless smile flickered across his face. "Something like that."

We stopped before an ornate wooden door. Damon opened it, gesturing for me to enter.

"The Alpha King has assigned you the east wing guest suite. Your luggage has already been unpacked. Dinner is formal. Don't be late."

Before I could ask any more questions, he was gone, leaving me alone in what could only be described as a luxury apartment disguised as a bedroom.

The "guest suite" was larger than my entire college apartment, with a king-sized four-poster bed, sitting area with a fireplace, walk-in closet, and a bathroom that belonged in a spa. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked dense forest and mountains beyond.

Beautiful. And utterly isolated.

I checked my phone. No signal, of course. The WiFi network was password protected. I was cut off from the outside world.

I moved to the closet and found my clothes already neatly arranged—along with several dresses I'd never seen before, all in my size, with designer labels still attached. A note on the vanity read: "A few options for the weekend events. -R"

The bathroom was stocked with high-end toiletries, the kind my mother and I could never afford. Everything screamed wealth and attention to detail.

I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Kieran Volkov had recognized me—I was certain of it. But he hadn't acknowledged our previous meeting. Was he hoping I didn't remember? Or was this all part of some elaborate plan?

What did he want with my mother? With me?

I unpacked my pepper spray and knife, hiding them in the bedside drawer. Then I did something I'd been putting off since arriving—I pulled out Kieran's jacket, the one he'd given me the night of the auction. I'd kept it all these months, unable to explain why even to myself.

As I held it, a knock at the door made me jump. I quickly shoved the jacket under the pillows.

"Come in," I called, straightening my posture.

A young woman entered, carrying a tray with tea and small sandwiches. Unlike the others I'd encountered, she seemed younger, less imposing—though still unnaturally graceful and alert.

"Mr. Volkov thought you might want refreshments before dinner," she explained, setting the tray on a side table. "I'm Maya. I'll be assisting you during your stay."

"Thank you, Maya," I said. "I actually have some questions, if you don't mind."

She hesitated. "I'll answer what I can, miss."

"How many people live here at Stone Peak?"

"The pack numbers about fifty in the main house," she answered. "More in the surrounding territory."

"The... pack?" My pulse quickened. "That's an unusual term for staff."

Maya's eyes widened as she realized her slip. "I mean—the household staff. Mr. Volkov prefers to think of us as a family unit."

"I see. And Mr. Volkov—what exactly does he do? My mother mentioned investments, but she was vague on details."

Maya's posture stiffened. "The Alpha oversees all pack territories in the Northwest. His business holdings are extensive."

There it was again—Alpha. The same title used at the auction.

"Alpha," I repeated. "That's the second time I've heard that term today. What does it mean, exactly?"

Maya backed toward the door. "I've said too much. The Alpha—Mr. Volkov will explain what he wishes you to know. Dinner is at seven. Don't be late."

She hurried out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a growing sense of unease.

I spent the next hour exploring my suite, looking for anything that might give me more information. The bookshelves held leather-bound classics and several volumes on regional history. The desk contained stationery but no electronics. The windows, despite their size, didn't open more than a few inches—not enough for escape if it came to that.

At six-thirty, I showered and changed into one of the provided dresses—a simple black sheath that fit perfectly. As I applied minimal makeup, I studied my reflection. I looked like myself but different. Polished. Prepared. Scared.

At precisely six-fifty, I left my room and followed the corridor toward the central staircase. The massive house was oddly quiet despite supposedly housing fifty people. As I descended the stairs, I heard voices from a large room to the right—deep, male voices speaking in hushed tones.

I paused near the partially open door, listening.

"—can't be serious about marrying a human," someone was saying—Damon, I thought. "The pack will never accept her as Luna."

"My personal life is not up for debate," Kieran's unmistakable voice replied, cold as ice. "The alliance with the Eastern packs depends on this marriage."

"Then marry the daughter," another voice suggested. "At least she's young enough to bear strong heirs."

My blood froze. They were talking about me.

"Watch yourself, Garrett," Kieran growled—actually growled, the sound more animal than human. "The Adams women are under my protection now."

"Of course, Alpha," the third voice—Garrett—quickly backpedaled. "I meant no disrespect."

"The daughter is more observant than I anticipated," Kieran continued. "She remembers the auction."

Damon swore. "What are you going to do?"

"Nothing yet. Claire knows nothing of our world, and I'd prefer to keep it that way until after the ceremony. As for Lena..." There was a pause. "I'm still deciding."

I backed away from the door, heart pounding. I needed to get my mother out of here. We needed to leave before this "ceremony"—whatever it was.

I turned to hurry back upstairs and ran straight into a solid chest.

Strong hands steadied me as I looked up into Kieran Volkov's silver eyes. His expression was neutral, but something dangerous flickered in those inhuman depths.

"Curious, Ms. Adams?" he asked quietly. "Or merely lost?"

I swallowed hard. "I was looking for the dining room."

His hands remained on my arms, warm and firm. "Were you? Or were you eavesdropping on a private conversation?"

No point in lying. He already knew the answer.

"What are you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What is this place? What do you want with my mother?"

Kieran studied me for a long moment, his head tilting slightly as if he were listening to something I couldn't hear.

"Brave," he finally said. "Most humans would be cowering by now."

"I've had practice," I replied. "At an auction where I was nearly sold like cattle."

His jaw tightened. "An unfortunate incident that I put a stop to."

"Only to lure my mother into whatever this is?" I gestured around us. "What are you planning? And what exactly is a 'Luna'?"

Something like respect flickered in his eyes. "You'll have your answers, Lena Adams. But not tonight. Tonight, we dine as a normal family celebrating an engagement. Tomorrow... tomorrow we can discuss reality."

He released my arms and offered his elbow instead. "Shall we? Your mother is waiting, and it would be rude to keep her in suspense any longer."

I hesitated, then placed my hand on his arm. His muscles were like steel beneath the expensive fabric of his suit.

"This isn't over," I warned quietly.

One corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been amusement. "No," he agreed. "For you and me, Lena Adams, I suspect this is only the beginning."