The Alpha Don’S Assassin

CHAPTER ONE

Hello readers, I just wanna first off say thank you for giving my story a chance. This book is a passion project, and I want to take my time to build the world, characters, and plot the way they deserve. Updates may be slow at times, but I promise I'm working hard to make this story the best it can be.

Feedback, Comments and Suggestions are always deeply appreciated.

Thank you for reading, voting, and supporting my work. Enjoy the story!

P.S

* Anastasia real age is 347 years old

* Silas real age is 563 years old

‼️ Chapter is short and kinda cringe ‼️

"Please don't kill me," the man begged, his voice breaking as his breath grew shallow.

Blood soaked through his shirt, dripping onto the cold concrete as he dragged himself backward, trying to escape me.

The warehouse was silent except for the weak scrape of his hands against the floor. Dust floated in the dim light spilling through broken windows. Somewhere above, metal groaned as the wind moved through the abandoned structure.

I stepped forwarder slowly.

I pulled my gun from its holster and leveled it at his head. His eyes locked onto mine—wide, desperate, searching for mercy that wasn't there.

My finger tightened on the trigger.

The shot echoed like thunder through the warehouse. Birds outside erupted into the sky, startled into flight. The sound lingered long after the bullet found its mark.

His body jerked once... then went still.

Smoke curled from the barrel of my gun as I stared at him. In his final moment, all he saw was me—no hesitation, no remorse. Just inevitability. Death given a face.

I holstered my weapon and turned away.

Outside, the sun was barely up, and cold air brushed against my skin as I walked toward my motorcycle. The city lights still flickered in the distance like a world untouched.

I got on the bike, started the engine, and rode off as if nothing had happened.

Because for me... it hadn't.

⸻

My name is Anastasia Belova, daughter of Alexei. Princess of the Russian Mob—and first tribrid in existence.

My life began the day I lost my mother.

Before that, we were a family once. A fragile peace that existed only because the supernatural world had not yet taken everything from us. But that peace never lasts. The moment she died, everything changed.

My mother was a witch–vampire hybrid. My father was a werewolf–vampire hybrid.

I was never meant to be born. An abomination—something the world should not have allowed to exist. And yet I was kept, raised in a life soaked in blood and legacy, even when it should have destroyed us all.

My father's past as an assassin for a werewolf pack never truly left him. It followed him like a curse, twisting everything he touched. He was meant to leave that life behind—but loss changes a person. It breaks them. And for him, it dragged him straight back into the world he swore he would escape.

Over the centuries, my father built a reputation as a Russian capo, ruling over a powerful pack that operated in the shadows. Humans we trusted, along with vampires and werewolves, became part of our network, —our world built on loyalty, fear, and survival.

My mother gave her life to protect me.

And my father never let me forget it.

⸻

When I returned to the mansion, the iron gates closed behind me with a heavy clang, echoing across the grounds like a warning.

The guards didn't stop me. They never did. In this place, recognition came before respect—and fear always came first.

The estate wasn't a home. It was a fortress. Stone walls stretched across acres of controlled land, watched by cameras hidden in places most would never notice. Nothing entered without being seen. Nothing left without being tracked.

I parked and stepped out. Gravel crunched beneath my boots. The air carried the scent of guarded territory—wolves, vampires, and men trained to kill without hesitation.

Inside, a maid appeared immediately.

"Hello, Ms. Belova," she said quickly. "Allow me to take your things."

She was a werewolf. I could sense it instantly. Strong, disciplined... and afraid. She kept her eyes lowered, refusing to meet mine.

"I'm fine," I said flatly.

She bowed her head and left without another word.

I moved deeper into the mansion. Hallways lined with expensive art, ancient weapons, and locked doors requiring clearance only a few were trusted with. Every step reminded me this wasn't just a residence.

It was an empire.

And I was part of its inheritance.

⸻

When I was done showering and changed, I lay in bed with a small glass of fresh blood resting beside me.

* We should go for a run * my wolf, Hope, spoke in my mind.

* We can tonight *I replied.

She let out a soft whine.

Hope barely speaks to me anymore. Not after everything.

Even our bond feels distant now.

I finished the blood, set the glass aside, and let the silence settle.

It didn't last long.

A knock came at my door.

I groaned, annoyed, and used my powers to open it.

Malcolm.

Beta in command. One of my father's most trusted guards.

And the man I slept with when neither of us wanted complications. We both are unmated and I never plan to be, just the thought of being owned made my blood boil.

"Your father wants you," he said, already turning away.

Of course he did.

I grabbed my shoes and followed him through the mansion until we reached his office.

^ Her outfit

My father sat behind his desk, buried in paperwork. Malcolm stepped in behind me and closed the door, taking his place beside him.

I didn't sit. I never did.

"I heard you were on your morning stroll," my father said without looking up.

"I needed fresh air," I replied.

His pen stopped.

He looked up slowly.

"Anastasia," he said firmly. "I know what you were doing. And it needs to end."

"I was carrying out justice," I snapped. "That man was not innocent. The world is better without him."

It was true, he raped and killed many women and I just did the best thing to sending him to hell myself.

My father's hand slammed onto the desk. Wood cracked under the force.

He stood.

"You are not judge, jury, and executioner," he said sharply. "If the police had found that body, it would be on my head. I had it cleaned up. You're lucky. And careless. I taught you better."

The last words landed like a knife.

Silence pressed into the room.

Malcolm with his head down.

"Is that all?" I asked coldly.

His jaw tightened.

Then, slowly, he sat back down.

Defeated.

The room went quiet again before he finally spoke.

"I'm going to New York," he said. "Business with an old ally."

My eyes narrowed slightly.

He continued.

"As my daughter, you are not just my heir. You are the future Donna... and the future Alpha. It's time you start learning what that means."