Chapter 1
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THE SPECTER SERIES
1. Hunting for Honey
2. Feilds of Clover
3. Broken Hearts & Coup D'etats
4. Secrets of Summer
5. Lace & Leather
6. The Colt & The Cobra
THE BRAVO BOYS
1. Killerwolf
2. Tigerlilly
3. Snake Eater
SOLDIERS OF FORTUNE
1. Red Reaper
SPECTER SHORT STORIES
1. Alfa
2. Bravo
4. Delta
18. Romeo
SPECTER SHORT SPECIALS
•Halloween Special - ANGELMAKER The Southside Slayer
•Christmas Special - Dasher & The Dancer
•Valentine's Day Special - HELLFIRE Old Flames Burn Brightest
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⚠️WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT EROTICA, VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT THEMES.
⭐ NOTE:
HUNTER'S PREQUEL
This story takes place a few years before the commencement of THE SPECTER SERIES and is best read after the completion of SECRETS OF SUMMER, though it isn't essential.
★★★★★★★★
MISSION FILE
CLASSIFIED : CIA
OPERATION : MOSCOW
AGENT : VIKING
HANDLER : RED
TARGET: OSKA ROMANOV
OBJECTIVE : INTELLIGENCE GATHERING
DIRECTIVE : ELIMINATE
TIMELINE : UNDEFINED
★★★★★★★★
Katya Romanov (Czarina)
I lift my hand to rap quietly on the oak-wood door, carefully so as not to wake anybody in the house.. It's well after midnight, and I am certain my husband Oska and his henchmen, The Obshchak, will most certainly be out cold, sleeping off copious amounts of vodka and opium.. Every light in the opulent Moscow mansion is dimmed to the dullest and the service staff are sleeping undisturbed in their quarters.. Even the nosy valet, Mikhail, is nowhere to be seen, though I am wary he may be sulking about, peering at me from some secret room hidden behind a tapestry..
Oh the Romanov mansion holds so many dark secrets, moving walls and hidden rooms to which I was never privy..
I am just a trophy wife to the Pakhan after all.. A mafia bride.. A week after my fifteenth birthday, I'd been sold by my father, Dmitry, to bind the future chapters of the Russian Romanov and Serbian Czarina families together, strengthening allegiances and unifying two of Eastern Europe's most notorious syndicates.. After Oska had seen me perform the dance of the Willis in Giselle, he'd decided I was the only thing my family could offer him to maintain the peace.. A child bride.. A prisoner..A broken soul..
From the first day I arrived in Russia, I never danced again, my heart no longer yearned for passion, instead it withered in my chest like a wilted rose, never to bloom anew.. It is hard for me to believe that was three years ago now.. Because it feels like the longest lifetime.. A waking nightmare I am trapped in, day after day..
Much to my husband's disappointment, I had been a less than thrilled participant in our marriage over the years.. Mainly because since the day we met, the man has shown me nothing but contempt, his bloodline too rich, his ego swollen beyond recompense.. He had made one thing abundantly clear to me on our wedding night, that he viewed me as property, to be owned and managed.. He would never be faithful to me.. He would make me no vows.. He could never love me.. I would never be a wife in his heart, because Oska Romanov does not have a heart.
But I do..
I have a heart, and each day it breaks.. Each day I become less myself and more under his control.. I live in a constant state of fear, suspended in terror, knowing every small scrap of his affection, a diamond necklace here, a designer bag there, is just a terrifying omen of what is to come..
You see, Oska only ever buys me gifts when he expects sex.. It is his way of telling me to prepare myself for him to do all the things he likes, and his repossession of those gifts is a warning that my insubordination will not be tolerated..
God.. How I have come to loathe laying in the same bed as the man, to feel his clammy hands on my body, his musty scent wafting through the tepid air.. His sour breath on my neck.. The things he would make me do..
I will tell you now, the man has truly terrible tastes.. Often demanding acts that I should never be asked to perform..
Oska simply calls them my 'duties'..
Ugh.. Just thinking about it propels a thrust of repulsion from deep in my belly, bringing bile to my throat.. Disgust fatigues my will to live each and every day.. He is a vile and violent man..
And my heart can take no more..
I want to get out.. I need to.. So here I am, determined to find a way.. I am resolved to this one final attempt at salvation and if my prayers are not answered, I will take the only other way out..
If this does not work.. I will kill myself..
Please, God, let him help me..
My featherlight taps reverberate softly through the hall.. Perhaps this will be the last door I ever knock upon...
-TAP-TAP-TAP-
"Da?" Replies a low, husky response, inviting me to enter the forbidden Chambers of the Bratva enforcer, The handsome Brigadier, Axe Hunt.
Enter I do, my heart racing and my fingers trembling as I turn the doorknob, stepping into the lion's den, ready to make a meal of myself..
"Good evening, Mr Hunt.." I greet the godlike creature whose domain I now occupy with dulcet grace and a demure nod..
He lifts his steely grey gaze to inspect me from his seat at the foot of the four poster bed, his inky tattooed chest barely covered by the unbuttoned shirt on his broad shoulders.. His muscle is sculpted to perfection, the deep gullies of his abs leading my wandering eyes ever downwards..
"Mrs Romanov.." Axe places his book down patiently with curious intent, never taking his glittering gunmetal gaze from mine.. "Good evening.."
I smile at the formality of his greeting, since we both know my being here is well out of bounds and we should tread with care when in each others company..
Still, I can see behind the mask of his stoic facade, I watch him try to figure out just what the hell I am doing, wondering if perhaps I have a message from his boss.. Right up until I turn to lock the door behind me, sending a clear signal.. After that, the air in the room turns to tension..
"Pleaze, Sir.. Call me Katya.. Or Kat, if you prefer.."
He smirks, a roguishly handsome grin, giving little away from where he sits, shrouded in shadows beside the dusky-lighting of the bed lamp.. "Hmm.. I will call you as I see fit, Kisa.."
'Kisa', he calls me..
It means kitten or something of the like, though I'm sure he means it to be slightly more vulgar.. But there is something sinful about the way he says it, it is almost too sweet.. Still, he is not sweet enough to convince me the man is anything other than a sinner..
A dark angel of death disguised as a handsome devil..
But he is something else too.. Something more..
He isn't like all those stupid sheep in the brigades who just blindly follow orders.. He thinks for himself, he even questions authority at times, I've seen it for myself.. Part of why My husband respects Axe Hunt so much is that he is one of the few men to ever present him with a challenge..
I can't help but appreciate it too..
I smile with a respectful nod, in no position to challenge such a callous and hardened man.. I shouldn't be here.. I shouldn't be alone with the brigadier my husband believes to be his loyal soldier..
Axe Hunt is known throughout the brotherhood ranks as a most cruel and unforgiving enforcer.. A role he took over after the Sovietnik, Oska's second n command, Konstantin Ivanov had disappeared, abandoning his role as my only protector.. The void of Konstantin's absence had been an unacceptable threat and so, in a moment of desperation, Oska had placed his trust into the American recruit.. There have been rumours around the manor that Konstantin had broken ranks and become disloyal to the brotherhood, some people have even been saying he works in collaboration with The CIA to take down the zarkone.. But I find the idea of Kostya acting as a traitor to be impossible to believe.. Regardless of the truth, without Konstantin I am all alone, without anybody to help me ward off Oska and his ill temper, I live in terror.. A temper that grows worse by the day..
All of which had led me here to this moment, to Axe, who is now the blood-soaked right hand to the most feared man of Moscow's chapter of The Russian Brotherhood..
The Bratva..
No, I shouldn't be here at all.. But I can't help myself. I am out of resolutions and excuses.. I am beyond forgiveness and there is no existence in which I will ever forget the betrayals that have been brought against me..
I am out of patience and out of options.. "Da, you may call me whatever doez pleaze you mozt, Mr Hunt.."
I bite my lip as I slink closer to where he sits, rigid tension tightening his chiselled jaw..
Sure, part of me needs to be here, for survival, for self preservation.. For protection..
But some primitive part of me wants to be here.. Some part of me, predominantly the feminine part, wants to feel what it would be like to know him in the most intimate of ways.. Part of me wants him..
The fact that he may just be my golden ticket out of this nightmare, is really more like the icing on the devil-baked cake..
He shakes his head, with a soft dismissive sigh of frustration.. "What is it you want, Katya? I'm in the middle of--"
"I want you, Axe.." I interrupt him, slowly reaching for the belt of my silky red robe, beneath which I wear not a single thread..
"Nyet! Stop--" He rises to his feet as my gown falls to the floor.. Revealing all of me..
My shapely figure, full hips and ample cleavage on display, my perky pink nipples hidden by swathes of golden blond curls which fall about my waist..
His gaze burns a blazing trail over my exposed flesh, and a slight, appreciative groan passes his lips.. "Uggh-- trakhni menya.."
