Annora Petrova Novels & Stories

“Oh... uh, thank you...” Tatiana stepped closer, then reached for both my hands and held them warmly. “I’m Tatiana. You can call me Anna. And if Pascha gives you headache—” she leaned in and whispered, “—tell me. I’ve got access to the basement and top-shelf vodka.” I laughed, unable to help myself. “You’re too kind to me.” “You’re a Romanova now,” she said warmly. “And anyone who can survive in this house... deserves a medal.”

50 ANNALISE I couldn’t take my eyes off the table-stone. The carvings on its surface shimmered faintly under the dim light of the hidden room, their ancient power pulsing just beneath the stone. My heart raced with excitement, a sensation I hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. This was it—the key to unlocking my true potential, the power I had been searching for ever since my fall. I turned to Adrian, unable to keep the joy out of my voice. “This is the altar! It’s the missing piece to activate the totem’s power. I can feel it, Adrian. This is how I’ll fulfill the prophecy. With this, I’ll restore my full powers.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before.... have we? ” Nova shakes her hand and smiles warmly. “Nova Volkova. No, we haven’t met yet. But it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Camellia. I’ve heard a lot about you from Nero.” “And you already know Morana,” I say, gesturing to my sister, who looks a bit shy. Nova smiles at her, a gentle reassurance in her gaze. “Of course. Hi, Morana. How are you holding up?” Morana shrugs, her eyes betraying her inner turmoil. “As well as I can, considering everything.”

They wore suits that didn't hide their expressionless faces, and they were obviously armed. Then the third. A woman. She stepped out like she’d been sculpted from frost and venom. White gloves. Crimson lips. A single braid coiled over her shoulder. She was older than Joana but younger than Katherina—somewhere in that dangerous middle. “Anastasiya Ivanov,” one of the men announced. Andrei stepped forward to greet her personally. They embraced like old acquaintances wearing silk. Zane watched from the top of the stairs. Her eyes found him almost immediately.

I even spotted Vlad—Victoria’s father—watching us as we headed to the front table. What exactly were Dad and Katerina planning to announce? Standing in front of everyone, I felt hot and cold at the same time. Sweat gathered on my forehead. I was sure I’d gone pale; I couldn’t control my nerves. “We’ll set aside the situation we’re currently dealing with, as it’s being handled. There’s something more important that Alistair and I must share. We’ve reached an agreement to name Anastasia Lancroft as the candidate to replace Alexei as division leader,” Katerina announced.

She stood, taller than I’d ever seen her. I felt something shift in my chest, something ancient, something primal, as I watched her give the order to our warriors to drag him away. Giovanni fought against the silver chains as they hauled him to his feet, sneering through his pain. “You’re a fool, Sienna,” he spat. “You think she’ll thank you for this? You think she’ll forgive you for denying her what she earned? Do you think that she's going to want anything to do with you? She is my. Daughter Marissa's daughter. Or as you want to call her, Tatiana. A monster. That's all she'll ever be.”

Anna’s ghost wouldn’t haunt her she’d face it, and Petrov, head-on. ****************

She is fierce. “Who is your lady?” Retarded, Elena asked, and my brows furrowed in anger. Before I could react, Anna beat me to it. “Malady is Nyxora, daughter of the fox king, wife to the alpha king Nightbane. Do you want to know what she can do to you… peasant?” My lips curved when the woman fell to her knees, and I stepped forward and then placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder. The kind of touch that says “well done” even without saying it out loud.

"Unless any of you would like to question my decision?" Silence. The white-blonde woman stepped forward. She possessed a chilling beauty, akin to a blizzard—cold, deadly, impossible to ignore. Her icy eyes met mine, holding them captive. "I am Anastasia Volkov," she announced, her voice as sharp as frost. "Leader of the Siberian pack. And I have no desire to witness a half-blood embarrass herself in the ring." "I didn't ask for your interest," I retorted. Anastasia offered a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You have spirit. I appreciate that. Perhaps when Niklas breaks you, I will collect the pieces and forge something useful."