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Marked: A Dark Mafia Omegaverse Romance
Extremely Dark Mafia Omegaverse Romance
This enemies-to-lovers captive story contains intense themes of non-con/dub-con elements, obsession, violence, explicit heat/rut, knotting, possessive claiming, and triggers. Read at your own risk.
She hid from the Bratva for three years. Her heat betrayed her in seconds.
Sasha Volkov has lived as a Beta—silver hair dyed black, illegal suppressants crushing her True Omega instincts, buried in numbers at the Kozlov Casino. Invisible. Safe. Slowly dying.
Until the heat crashes through like a grenade.
It isn’t gentle. It isn’t romantic. It’s biology as warfare—her cells mutinying, her scent flooding the ventilation with black roses and betrayal. In a den of killers, only one predator matters.
Kirill Kozlov.
The Bratva King doesn’t rescue her from the bathroom floor. He smashes the door down. Sees the platinum roots—the Volkov signature—and his rut ignites. Possession. Obsession.
He’s hunted her for three years. Now she’s in his tower, drowning in his scent, caged in luxury while her body screams for the submission she swore to deny.
He won’t mark her. Not until she begs.
She won’t beg. Not even as the heat scorches her alive.
But her father is coming—Dmitri Volkov, the monster who bred her as currency—and he’ll raze Manhattan to reclaim his property.
The war ignites. The bond forms. And between captor and captive, hatred and desperate need, something lethal takes root.
Something that will destroy them both.
Some bonds are written in blood. This one will be carved into her skin.
This enemies-to-lovers captive story contains intense themes of non-con/dub-con elements, obsession, violence, explicit heat/rut, knotting, possessive claiming, and triggers. Read at your own risk.
She hid from the Bratva for three years. Her heat betrayed her in seconds.
Sasha Volkov has lived as a Beta—silver hair dyed black, illegal suppressants crushing her True Omega instincts, buried in numbers at the Kozlov Casino. Invisible. Safe. Slowly dying.
Until the heat crashes through like a grenade.
It isn’t gentle. It isn’t romantic. It’s biology as warfare—her cells mutinying, her scent flooding the ventilation with black roses and betrayal. In a den of killers, only one predator matters.
Kirill Kozlov.
The Bratva King doesn’t rescue her from the bathroom floor. He smashes the door down. Sees the platinum roots—the Volkov signature—and his rut ignites. Possession. Obsession.
He’s hunted her for three years. Now she’s in his tower, drowning in his scent, caged in luxury while her body screams for the submission she swore to deny.
He won’t mark her. Not until she begs.
She won’t beg. Not even as the heat scorches her alive.
But her father is coming—Dmitri Volkov, the monster who bred her as currency—and he’ll raze Manhattan to reclaim his property.
The war ignites. The bond forms. And between captor and captive, hatred and desperate need, something lethal takes root.
Something that will destroy them both.
Some bonds are written in blood. This one will be carved into her skin.
Kindle Edition
Published February 16, 2026
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