Ash Vs Volkner Novels & Stories

They stood in the study and Nash was still in a trance with his fingers tightening around Lola’s hand. Ash kept a close look on them both, making sure that nothing was to happen but even he saw the change on Nash’s face. “Coven?” Lola asked and looked at Ash who clenched his jaw with a deep scowl directed at Nash. He let go of her hand in a swift pull and turned his hand over as if to look after a burn or a mark of pain but there was nothing on his skin.

My heart sank as the reality of the situation sank in: I had been deceived, manipulated by someone I thought I could trust, "crazy ass friend of mine, I muttered." As I stood there, lost in my turmoil, a voice cut through the silence, jolting me back to reality. It was Jake, his voice tinged with bitterness as he muttered to himself. "I can't believe he fell for it," he muttered, his tone laced with amusement. "What a fool." My blood boiled at his words, anger fueling my ass as I set off into the woods, to track him down and make him pay for his betrayal. I knew he would be near, playing another nasty game of hide and seek.

“No. But I should have. Guys like you usually bring them with you.” I smirked. “Guys like me?” “Leather, tattoos… gunshot wound,” he said dryly. “You scream of trouble.” He wasn’t wrong. “And you don't want any of that?” “Name’s Ash,” I muttered when he didn't reply and finally regretted it. Where were we? Tenth grade? I was watching him move around the small room tending to my wounds with precision. “Noah.” He finally said, not looking up. “Thanks, Noah.”

I could feel it clearly—life draining out of my ravaged body. When she'd had her fill, she climbed off me, satisfied. Her well-manicured fingers picked up a piece of silver from the table, then dropped it onto my face with disgust. "Useless thing," she sneered. "Bones so brittle. Can't even take a little roughhousing." The door creaked open. Vince Benedict, the brothel's manager, waddled in with his massive gut leading the way. He pinched the silver coin between his thick fingers and blew on it. Then he gave my limp leg a hard kick with his black cloth boot.

“Which is a sentence I need a moment with.” Aria pressed her lips together. “Are you okay,” she said. “I keep being asked that today,” I said. “Because today keeps earning it,” she said. Fair. I looked at the message again. James Ashford. Thirty-eight years old. London. A DNA notification that connected him to a Romano Voss medical file, which meant he’d had to do some research to even know the name Romano Voss, which meant he was thorough, which meant he was careful, which meant he was someone who didn’t fire off a text to a potential unknown sibling without thinking it through first.

Then… Darkness swallowed the images again. He shook his head. “I…” “I’m sorry.” “I don’t remember.” ⸻ Alessio nodded. “I know.” He wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t angry. Only patient. “As long as one of us remembers…” He whispered. “…our story isn’t over.” ⸻ Far beyond the cathedral… Asher Volkov’s convoy finally stopped beneath the mountain. Snow covered the winding road. His chief strategist hurried toward the vehicle.

Their rivalry was quiet, but mutual and deeply personal. It wasn’t about money or power, it never had been. There was just something about Fontaine that had always gotten under his skin. Too calm. Too calculated. And now, apparently, too close to Vera. “God,” Asher muttered under his breath. “What the hell is going on?” He stepped back from the fence like it had burned him. His throat was dry, his chest tight. That little girl had made him smile. Had told him not to be sad. And he.. he’d actually listened.

He would have them taken somewhere else for disposal. "Asher," Sitnikov greeted him with a cold smile and extended his hand with a drink. Ash took it saying, "Please, call me Ash. Vodka I assume?" "The best," Sitnikov stated, tossing his own glass back. "Please, sit." Ash sat in the chair indicated and drained his drink as well. He didn't drink often. He took his sobriety very seriously, knowing how easy it would be to sink into the pit of addiction. He had too much to live for , owed Khalid too much , to allow himself that course in life. He placed his tumbler on the desk and covered it with his hand, shaking his head when Sitnikow offered him another pour. He hoped the lethal Russian didn'

It is the most sacred, and most painful, way for a werewolf to die. Three years later. "Elara, it's time to rest." The young Alpha's voice was as gentle as a spring breeze. I nodded, taking one last look at the full moon outside my window. I thought to myself: Soul-bound. 'Til death do us part. This time, I was the one who broke our vow. But life goes on. So be it. Let's not meet again... not in the next life.

If we managed to live that long. ‘Oh, you’ll live that long. Not even death can keep you from me, not with how much trouble you’re in. You won’t make it far, Lola. The warriors are gaining on you, and they have instructions to stop the vehicle at any cost.’ Asher’s gristly voice circled my head, picking up on snippets of my thoughts, little fragments that managed to slip down the mind-link. ‘I highly doubt you’d mow them all down.’ The confidence in his voice and in the dry laugh he sent down the bond tinted my vision in an unsettling shade of red. It boiled the adrenaline in my veins and made my muscles go rigid with fury.