Alisov Brothers Novels & Stories

The car swerves slightly before I correct it. Sophia. I've seen her before—at one of my tournament games where Timothy played. She'd stood in the stands, beautiful and polished, marking her territory. Everyone now knows they were married. It had been all over pack gossip. And one of her brothers had even texted me once, some veiled threat I'd ignored. "Her brothers are Kane, Drake, and Ryder," Isla continues. "The text says they're coming too." The Wintermoon brothers. I've heard of them. Everyone has. They're known for their brutality, their violence, their complete lack of mercy.

To say the least, we would be having less casualties over whatever shit that they caused. “No,” I said, nodding as they got up from their seats as the men in the arena collapsed. Yaroslav, the older brother, was the first to enter the arena while his brother, Yakov, stood by the ring, waiting for what his eldest would say and do. The same tradition and the same ways.

He turned first to Hope and then to me, before closing the door behind him and standing there with his hands dangling loosely at his sides. “I’m Dmitri Volkov,” he said. His English was exact, accented, every word carefully chosen. "You know who I am." "I know who you are," I said. “Your husband killed my brother,” he said. "Seven years ago. A territorial dispute that Vivienne Morano manufactured solely to take my family off of a shipping route she wanted for herself. It was my brother who attended the meeting. It was Caelum who made sure he didn’t return.” He said all this without any particular emotion, as if someone was reciting a thing they had repeated many times in private and handled

Draven demanded, sword already angling toward the man even as his brothers scrambled to steady themselves, whatever hold I'd broken over the other three apparently not extending to this one. "Sent implies a hierarchy that hasn't existed in three hundred years, Alpha." The man's grip on Soren's collar tightened, blade pressing close enough that a thin line of red welled up along his throat, and Soren went utterly still, breathing shallow, eyes locked on mine with something that looked almost like an apology for whatever was about to happen. "I came because something opened a door it shouldn't have, and I intend to make sure it either closes again, or opens fully. Either outcome serves my purp

Immediately, his mean features softened the moment he saw her and even after he pulled her into an embrace, and kissed her, he had one of the sweetest smiles I had ever seen. When Les saw that the blond man was not a threat, he stepped aside but held my hand and kept me close. After Meera hugged the other guy, the three of them approached us, with Meeras's hand entwined with Roscoe's. Meera introduced Roscoe as her boyfriend and the other young man as Duncan, Roscoe's younger brother. Both of them were the Ostrovsky Brothers, from one of the most powerful and elite Russian families in the United States. We exchanged pleasantries and Roscoe thanked us for saving ‘his girl’. After a while of e

Once again, his wife ignored him. He exhaled in frustration. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the message box, hoping that his brother had written to him, but he hadn't. Brahim was another who was also acting evasive with him. The deal with Voslov didn't quite convince him. The Russian had barely waited for dawn when he had already deployed his men in Tonali territory, clearing out the Italians' entourage and claiming a small but valuable part of Italy as his own. Ciro wasn't worried about this. He felt safe, Voslov wasn't going to run over him. He was more worried about his wife, since she was completely out of his control.

I took a message from Alyosha out of my pocket and reread the name written under Ibragimov's contacts. Vladislav Kokhan. Half-breed according to Rose. Brother's empire claimant. Did Boris know about its existence? If he did, why didn't he kill him? Why left alive? Where has he been hiding all along? How did you find out about your brother's death?

Then I saw a bearded man came up and gave a respective bow to Alex. I recognized him. He was the Starets, a holy man, who had served as a religious teacher to the imperial family back in the day. I was a little surprised that this starets was still around. The former Czar was so fond of him. They thought his prayers had saved their sick Czarevich Alexei, who was the only heir to the Russian throne at that time. But the Bolsheviks thought they were just a bunch of lunatics. I guessed that was another reason why the Russian sovereignty took a nose dive. But something else told me that I might one day need this person.