Ash Vs Volkner Novels & Stories

Knight snapped, keeping his voice low. “There are promising results of anti-awakaned vaccines coming out of several clinical trials—” “They won’t find anything. They never do. She shouldn’t waste her time—” “Looking after you is not wasting our time,” Richard cut in icily. Knight snapped his mouth shut, the sudden rushing sound in his ears the adrenaline in his veins. He took a deep breath and held onto his words as the waiter appeared at their table again and served them their starters before slipping away. Knight stared blankly down at his salad before he picked up his fork and stabbed at the lettuce while his soup cooled.

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.

I felt really bad for what just happened. "Don't worry about it, it's just a shirt" he tried to reason. "I am Jason by the way" he introduced himself, smiling a little. "I'm Ana" I returned. "Such a beautiful name for a pretty lady" Was he trying to flirt with me? I smile at him, he must be good with the ladies. Such a smooth landing. *** ASHTON I stepped out of the men's bathroom, the white stain on my black shirt didn't go away but it was manageable.

Jake asked, concern etched in his features. I slid into the seat opposite him, letting out a heavy sigh. "No, Jake. I'm not okay. Things have been... complicated lately." Jake raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Complicated how?" I took a deep breath, steeling myself to reveal the truth. "It's Carmen. She's been... manipulating me, using me for her gratification." Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?" I recounted the events of the past week, from Carmen's sudden change in demeanor to our unexpected encounter in her office. As I spoke, the weight of my confession lifted off my shoulders, replaced by a sense of relief.

“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.

His broad shoulders were incredibly rigid under his white shirt, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths that failed to hide his absolute fury. Wren wheeled the empty corporate cart back to its corner against the wall. He kept his head down, methodically stacking the leftover legal briefs. He knew he should leave the room, slide out the door, and hide behind his glass desk in the lobby. That was what a smart assistant with a radioactive resume would do. But as he looked at the tense line of Killian's back, his fingers lingered on the leather binders. The Ashford family wasn't just cold; they were a pack of wolves. They were trying to force Killian into a lifelong contract wi

Van Koslov, otherwise known as The Brick, went down onto one knee, panting. Grinning, Ash jumped back, giving the other man room to recover and get up. Ash was having too much fun to end things now. The match hadn't lasted nearly long enough and this guy was supposed to be one of Sitnikov's best. Ash needed to put on a good show if he was going to attract another sponsor, and sponsor's tended to enjoy long fights with plenty of dirty hits and blood. So far, neither of them has started spontaneously bleeding.