Alex Volkov Book Character Novels & Stories

Through the dust and smoke stepped Victor Volkov. He didn't look like a man anymore. The pristine Pakhan in the tailored tuxedo was gone; in his place stood an unhinged, primal demon. His tie was ripped away, his collar unbuttoned, and his blue eyes were completely devoid of human emotion; they were the cold, dead eyes of a winter wolf looking at its next meal. Behind him, Alexei entered with a raised rifle, but Victor stopped him, stepping into the room alone.

As usual, my body tensed in his presence. “Still?” he asked with a wry smile and he leaned against the piano, looking down on me with these impossibly dark, dangerous eyes. “Still terrified of me.” I laughed. “Alexei, is there a woman in New York or anywhere else who isn’t scared of you?” His smile pulled wider. “There’s no man either.” I sighed and my eyes flickered to the scar on his face, remembering the story Viktor had told me earlier, and now I'm wondering how a man capable of unspeakable acts could have risked his life to save his brothers. Alexei Kozlov was a complete mystery to me.

Alex Volkov, Prince to the Russian Empire, the Bratva royalty—was dead. Like dead, dead. I still couldn’t swallow the word. I stood there, egg dripping between my fingers, the shell cracked and forgotten on the floor. The pan on the stove hissed and sizzled in the background, but it couldn’t compete with the pounding of my heart. Shot. In public. In the street. Alex Volkov. The man who haunted my nightmares ever since he walked into Asher’s cage for me....grinning like the devil himself, that smug, detached smirk that never reached his eyes, as if he knew something I didn’t.

“Out. Go to your brother’s room. Now.” “What’s the use of going to his room when he, himself, doesn't want to have a glimpse of my face?” She crossed her arms and held her head high. “If he wants to see me, he must come to me. I’m older.” At Alexia's answer, I almost ran out of patience as I stared at her in disbelief. Alexei and Alexia were indeed related and alike. The Volkovs’ pride and their inability to surrender were firm and rather impenetrable. One should really exert effort when talking with them, otherwise, you will lose every patience you have and still, you will find yourself failing your goal.

You have reached the second part of the book. It will dive into the life story of Alpha Cupid and his love interest, Gillian. Axel and Rosalind will also pop up in the story from time to time. Happy reading! *** Cupid The blaring sounds of the alarm clock woke me up. I groaned in pain as I reached toward the bedside table for my phone to turn the alarm off. Fuck, my head is hurting. A night full of partying would surely be much more fun if it didn't come with hangovers.

Until recently. Alexei. The most fractured one of us. Although his wife mended his wounds. He even cracked a smile occasionally. If he could heal, then so could I. Right? Then why did I feel so hopeless? “Are you ready?” I raised a brow, my lips curving into a bitter smile. “Am I ready to bury my husband’s non-existent body?” My lungs felt tight. My voice sounded acidic. I resented his happiness. I resented Vasili’s happiness. I fucking resented everyone. “Sure, I was born ready for it. I am a Nikolaev after all.”

Lisa: The moment the heavy metal door shut behind me, I let out a slow breath, not because I was shaken, but because the room itself had been suffocating. Xavier’s dominance pressed like a physical weight against the walls. Alpha of Alphas. Power leashed behind self-control. For a wolf like me, power like that was… interesting. Intriguing… But not intimidating. Not in the way it used to be. Not when I knew that I was stronger than all of them.

“Milan first. Then we decide.” She nodded. Small victory. My phone buzzed again. Brian’s contact. One message. No greeting. Dimitri Volkov. Ex-Kovalev lieutenant. Went rogue after the old man’s fall. Specializes in blood debts. Word is he’s hunting Anya because she carries the last clean line of the family. Wants to end it. Permanently. He’s already in St. Petersburg. Armed. Connected. Dangerous. I showed Elena the screen. Her face paled, but her jaw set.

Or whatever weird-ass crawl-walk I did. We passed iron doors, flickering lights, the stench of sweat and blood sticking to the walls like perfume. I felt like a sacrifice being led to the altar. And then they stopped. The guy pointed to a large black door with golden edges. He didn’t say a word. Just knocked twice, opened it, and shoved me in. And there he was. Boris. Holy Shit...! I knew the name. Everybody in this goddamn underworld knew the name, The man who didn’t blink when ordering whole families wiped out. The man who could slice your throat and still ask for tea politely.

The warehouse door opened with a screech of rusted metal, and three men entered. I recognized the type immediately: Eastern European, expensive suits that couldn't quite hide the prison tattoos, carrying the casual confidence of men who had killed before breakfast and would kill again before lunch. But it was the man in the middle who made my blood run cold. Dmitri Volkov. Alexei's cousin.