Anastasia Villains Novels & Stories

Crueler. “Son,” she says again, the single word dripping disdain. Stella stiffens beside me. Her fingers dig into my arm. “Do not get friendly with her,” she hisses under her breath. “That’s Anastasia Volkov. Nicholas’s step mother. She eats girls like you for breakfast.” My stomach drops to my heels. Anastasia’s gaze flicks to me, slow, assessing, like she’s pricing livestock. “And this is…?” Nicholas’s arm tightens, pulling me so close my hip presses against his. His smirk is razor-sharp.

ANASTACIA The weight of the ivory mask against my skin was both a shield and a cage. From my throne, I looked down upon the evening court, my features frozen in a snarl of hand-carved bone, while my mind was a tempest of memories and blood. To the lords and sycophants below, I was the Wolf Queen of the North—voluptuous, sadistic, and untouchable. They did not know that beneath this marquess of ivory lay the soul of Anastasia, a girl whose family was slaughtered, dwelling in the body of a princess who had been too broken to live.

Outmaneuvered, Anastasia resorted to threats. "Mark me, you shall all rue this humiliation!" she raged. "I offered mercy in exchange for obedience - now you shall get only fury!" She retreated but her eyes blazed with vengeance not easily quenched. Viktor dispatched additional security to quietly monitor for renewed plots as Anastasia was removed from court. Her web of lies had collapsed on itself, followers abandoning her exposed scheme. Few dared stand publicly beside an fallen disgraced traitor.

"He handed her the weapon." "It looks that way, sir. He wanted the chaos. He wanted you out of the picture so he could force a vote of no confidence against Mrs. Vance while she was distracted." I looked down at Anastasia’s face. She was so innocent, so completely unaware of the vultures circling her family’s legacy. They thought because my heart was failing, I was weak. They thought they could use a crazy socialite to tear our lives apart. They were about to find out how wrong they were.

Marian's eyes meet mine, and I see the same cold calculation I feel. We've come too far to let anyone— especially a ghost from the past— destroy what we've built. Even if that ghost has returned with a new face and a billionaire fiancé. "In the meantime," I say, closing the laptop, "we proceed as planned. We perfect our proposal for the Foreign investors . We maintain our advantage. And we watch Anna Brooks very, very carefully." "And if we confirm she's Anastasia?" I think about all the things we did to her seven years ago. The betrayal, the setup, the frame-up. The fact that she spent months in prison, gave birth there, and supposedly died with her kids.

"Whatever she did... We're better than that." Katarina's eyes filled with something that might have been gratitude, but Anastasia's face didn't change. "Family?" Anastasia repeated quietly. "She drugged you, stripped you, and was about to rape you. She killed Sheila, threatened Liliana, and planned this whole nightmare. When does family loyalty become stupidity?" I closed my eyes, fighting the chemicals in my brain. "Justice. Not revenge. There's a difference." For a long moment, the only sound was my heavy breathing and the distant music from the party upstairs. Then Anastasia lowered the needle a little.

In the Bratva world, watching your back was an unspoken rule. Anastasia waited for me in her office, and as I entered, she approached, greeting me with a kiss on the back of my hand. Anastasia Volkov, Mikhail's daughter, was an intriguing blend of grace and intensity. Her eyes held a certain depth, a silent storm that mirrored the tumultuous world she hailed from. Long, flowing locks framed a face that carried the weight of her lineage, a mixture of beauty and the unmistakable mark of the Volkov legacy. Her presence was both enigmatic and commanding, a testament to the resilience cultivated in the shadows of powerful bloodlines.

Her voice was softer now, almost breaking, and her hands pressed against the ice from below, leaving a faint frost in their wake. “Who are you?” I whispered, barely able to breathe. “You know who I am,” she replied, her voice soft and convincing, familiar. “I made my choice, Anastasiya. And now you know what you must do.” “No, I don’t,” I said, my voice rising in panic. I clawed at the ice as if I could somehow dig through it to reach her—or escape her. “You’re not me. You can’t be.” Her face hardened, the sorrow in her eyes replaced by something colder, more determined. “You must fight, Anastasiya,” she said again. “For us both.”

Thank God for my privacy, as I was sure many were trying to text me. Well, there it was, the truth, which wasn't the full truth because if anyone should be blamed, it's Anastasia. She's the one who drugged William that night. I was going to meet him when Gianna told me William had left with a woman. I regret not going there and stopping them in time, if not for my stupid emotions, which made me run away that night. “I'm the bad guy now, Anastasia drugged William, she's the cause of all this, we were going to get married before she did all this, I was going to marry William regardless.”

Alex announced, sobering me up instantly. “And he’s been confined in the hospital for two days now. Here’s the kicker—Agent C saved them. That means Anastasia Clinton is back in service as an assassin for the government,” he added, which instantly worried me. Yes, I’ve long known that Anastasia was part of a secret organization called Dark Moon, which my friends and I also lead. But I never let on that I knew her secret. Hearing this, I suddenly stood up. “No! I don’t want her returning to her role as an assassin under our leadership,” I said to myself. I quickly grabbed my phone and called my father. After a few rings, he answered.