Adrian Ivashkov Novels & Stories

she asks, her voice sharp with suspicion. “Yes,” Daniel confirms, turning to face his sister-in-law. “His name is Boris. He told his Alpha that there are rumors in the camp—or the supposed pack—that Emmanuel Reed is alive and currently gathering an army to reestablish his pack and take over the existing ones. From what I understand, Richard has the same objective.”

“Are you sure?” She nods. My heart raced at this new clue. If it’s true, we might have the answer Klaus, and I have been looking for. The missing link to all these problems. I never doubted that Rylee knew who Vino Zakharov was. He’s a respectable man in the business world who owns chains of casinos to cover up for his dirty business. This is a tactic even Klaus is doing, so I’m not one to judge. “That can be just a coincidence,” I deadpanned, testing her, masking the rapidly increasing wallop in my pulse. Not needing Rylee to bury her nose into something she knows nothing about.

Her eyes were wide with fear. “Who the fuck are you?” Ivan snapped, gripping tighter around Adelyn's shoulders. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare.” Before anyone could respond, I snapped my fingers. A gust of wind shot through the room. I jumped over the table and pinned him against the wall while he was distracted. His gun fell to the floor, and as he tried to break free of my hold. I let Flint show in my eyes as I let out a low growl. Ivan's eyes widened with recognition as he looked at me.

I extended a hand to him, and shaking my hand, he smirked at me, watching as Natasha took a step back. “Alpha Nathan Kozlov. You really are a man of business. I can see that your place seems to bring in more people with each passing day” he said, looking at Natasha who bit her bottom lip as she smiled. I knew that it disgusted her to act this way, but she also knew her job and duty well, and it was one of the main reasons why she was the ONLY one qualified for this job and no one else.

The four of us stand up when five extremely large men walk in. “I am Kaden, and this is my cousin Alek. These two here are Brent and Lance.” I say. “Hey, I am Curtis, and this is Venom,” Curtis says. “I am Quade, and this is Zion. I am assuming you know Chaos.” Quade states.

The scandal between Sofia Montero and Adam Kavanaugh dominated the headlines in Khalidan, and the man's lips twisted into a sinister smirk. This was Ivan Volkov, a powerful figure in the hidden European underworld, known for his ruthless control over international dealings, from arms trade to black-market networking. Years ago, Sofia had stumbled into his orbit when she was just a desperate seventeen-year-old, lost and stranded in Europe. She had been naive, with no money and no connections, and in her desperation, she had made a deal with Ivan, a deal she would later regret.

"Observer status begins now." Rowan inclined his head once controlled, minimal. I didn't lower my gaze. I cataloged the room with the same precision a hunter uses to map a kill zone. To the left sat a man in his late forties, broad shouldered, military still, the kind of posture you only get from decades of enforced discipline. Adrian Volkov. I recognized him from private intelligence files: infrastructure dominance across Eastern Europe, energy grids, transit corridors, the kind of quiet control that makes governments nervous.

I said. A pause. “What has he done?” I looked at him steadily. The question was genuine. Not the performed innocence of a man seeking deniability but the actual question of a son who had lived alongside a father’s authority for his entire life without being given full access to what that authority was built on. “What do you know about Dmitri Vasiliev?” I said. Adrian was still. “He’s an investor. Connected to some of father’s earlier business relationships.” A pause. “Why?”

It was blurry, snapped from a security camera, but I could identify who Bianca was regardless. And next to her was some guy I'd never seen before. A large, broad-shouldered figure in a black suit, his stance confident, his presence intimidating even on screen. His features were angular, his jaw set, but there was something undeniably evil in him. "Who is it?" I breathed. "Viktor Androv," Damian snarled. "Russian arms dealer. Wealthy, powerful, and ruthless. If she's in partnership with him, then this is worse than we thought."