{"id":256033,"date":"2026-07-13T14:28:50","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T11:28:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/claimed-by-the-bratva-beast-katerina-volkov\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T14:28:50","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T11:28:50","slug":"claimed-by-the-bratva-beast-katerina-volkov","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/claimed-by-the-bratva-beast-katerina-volkov\/","title":{"rendered":"Claimed By The Bratva Beast – Katerina Volkov"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"<\/figure>\n

“Ms. Kozlova,” he said, his English accented but perfect. “A pleasure. And this must be Mr…?” “Morozov,” Maksim supplied, playing his role. “Maksim Morozov. Anya’s been teaching me about art. I figured it’s time I had some real pieces instead of whatever my decorator picks.” “A wise decision.” Petrov’s eyes flickered\u2014recognition of the name, maybe, or just assessment. “Please, let me show you some pieces that might interest you.” For the next thirty minutes, Petrov guided them through the gallery while Anya played her role perfectly.<\/p>\n

She evaluated pieces with professional precision, pointing out details of brushwork and provenance while Maksim played the attentive boyfriend who was clearly more interested in her than the art. It wasn’t hard. The way she moved, the passion in her voice when she discussed a painting’s history\u2014Maksim was genuinely captivated.<\/p>\n

Through the bond, Anya felt his desire, his pride, his absolute focus on her. It made her flush. “You have a good eye, Ms. Kozlova,” Petrov observed. “Better than most appraisers I’ve worked with.” “I’ve had excellent training.” She paused in front of a Kandinsky. “This is beautiful, but I’m looking for something more… exclusive. Something that tells a story.” “Ah.” Petrov’s expression shifted\u2014knowing, almost conspiratorial. “I may have something in my private collection. If you’re interested in pieces with more…<\/p>\n

interesting provenance.” Bingo. “Very interested,” Anya said. “Then please, follow me.” Petrov led them upstairs to his office\u2014exactly where they needed to be. The room was elegant, dominated by a large desk and the kind of safe that looked like serious business. Three paintings hung on the walls, each worth a fortune. “These are remarkable,” Anya breathed, studying a small oil painting that was definitely stolen. She’d seen it on an Interpol list two years ago.<\/p>\n

“Where did you acquire this?” While Petrov launched into a carefully edited history\u2014lies mixed with just enough truth\u2014Maksim drifted toward the window, playing bored boyfriend. His position put him between Petrov and the door, blocking any quick exit. “The provenance is complicated,” Petrov was saying.<\/p>\n

“But for the right buyer\u2014” “I’m definitely interested.” Anya moved closer to the painting, using her body to block Petrov’s view of Maksim. “Can you tell me more about the restoration work?<\/p>\n

\n

Copyright \u00a9 2026 by Katerina Volkov All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction.<\/p>\n

Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 1kitap1.com\/en CONTENT WARNING: This book contains explicit sexual content, violence, strong language, and adult themes including arranged marriage and captivity dynamics.<\/p>\n

The story features a possessive alpha hero and explores darker romantic themes within the context of fated mates and paranormal romance. All intimate scenes are consensual. Intended for mature readers 18+. DEDICATION For everyone who ever fell in love with the monster. 1kitap1.com\/en CHAPTER ONE The blood on the marble floor was still warm when Anya Kozlov realized she was going to die.<\/p>\n

She pressed herself deeper into the mahogany armoire, the smell of old wood and mothballs mixing with the copper tang of fresh death. Through the narrow gap between the doors, she watched three massive shapes circle the body of Dmitri Volkov\u2014not the Volkov, she reminded herself with hysterical precision, just some accountant who’d picked the wrong night to ask her to appraise stolen art. The shapes weren’t human. Not anymore. Wolves. Three of them. Each the size of a small bear, with fur that seemed to absorb the warehouse’s dim lighting.<\/p>\n

They’d burst through the steel door like it was paper, and Dmitri hadn’t even had time to scream before the largest one\u2014gray as storm clouds with eyes that burned gold\u2014had torn out his throat. Anya’s hand covered her mouth, trapping the scream that wanted to claw its way out. Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain they could hear it. Hell, they probably could. Wolves had excellent hearing, didn’t they?<\/p>\n

Even normal wolves. And these were anything but normal. The gray one’s head snapped up, nostrils flaring. Oh God. She held her breath, every muscle locked tight. The armoire suddenly felt less like a hiding place and more like a coffin. An antique, overpriced coffin that some rich mobster had probably used to store his mistress’s furs.<\/p>\n

The wolf’s lips pulled back, revealing teeth longer than her fingers.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n
\n

Table of Contents<\/p>\nToggle<\/span><\/path><\/svg><\/svg><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/a><\/span><\/div>\n