Dmitri Antonov Novels & Stories

And that changed everything. As Paolo cursed and weaved through traffic, a thought pulsed in my head like an ancient curse I never wanted to face. Dimitri Antonov. The name echoed like thunder in my skull. I never told anyone about him. Because Dimitri Antonov is dead — or so everyone believes. But I know he’s not. I turned sharply to Paolo. “You remember Dimitri Antonov?” He frowned. “The Russian mobster? Died in an airstrike in Ukraine. That was like ten years ago.”

I don't know how I manage to stay cool when I'm face-to-face with the man who destroyed my sister's childhood and made the whole idea of living tedious for her. I pull up a photo I took with one of his guards and show him. “Don't expect your guards to find you, they won't” I turn Sasha's knife slowly in my hand, messing with him on purpose. ‘Sergei Antonov, 48 years old, was once married to Olivia Antonov, who died in a car crash ten years ago. Two sons, Alexei and Ivan, one wants nothing to do with your empire, the other is too dumb to run your empire. Did I miss anything?”

Dimitri Antonov finally found his place in this fucking world, which is six feet underneath the ground. Yes. He killed him, brutally and coldly and make others watch. He learned that he was the one whose been fucking with their cargo and the dealings outside the Russian border. Slicing up a huge amount of stash in his pocket and blaming the small mob present at the time. Marrying his daughter to him was one of his plans to take over his mob. The fucking bastard took him like some simpleton he can manipulate.

A living, breathing child who carried his blood. If that was true, then why had we been told, in no uncertain terms, that our purpose here was to give Alexander Petrova an heir? Why buy human women and keep them in a harem if one of his own already walked the estate? The questions multiplied with every step and none of the answers made sense. Helena must have noticed the way my jaw tightened because she glanced at me. “You’re unusually quiet,” she said. “I’m thinking,” I answered. “That tends to worry me,” she replied, and I stopped walking. She took another step and then realized I had halted. “You are free to ask the questions you want.” she said calmly.

DIMITRI The HALO jump was insane. Dimitri had done a lot of crazy shit in thirty-four years. Smuggled weapons across three continents. Run protection rackets that made enemies of men who killed for sport. Built an empire on blood and violence. But jumping out of a plane at 25,000 feet? That was a new level of insanity. "Remember!" Anya's voice through the comm. Steady. Professional. "Arch your back! Arms and legs spread! Track toward me if you drift!"

Two men stood next to Victor, and their presence sent a spurt of frozen adrenaline through his system. To his right, there sat Dmitri Volkov, the notorious "Tsar of Siberian Gas." The granite-jawed mogul with a track record for crushing competitors with the tacit support of the Kremlin. He was oligarchy personified—Politically unstoppable, pitiless, and wallowing in mineral wealth.

“That does not make it less insane.” “No,” Viktor clasped his hands behind his back as we walked. “But the Romanov bloodline has no direct heir after Nikolai. The council has been worried about that for years.” “I gathered that from the part where they found a wolfless woman from a disgraced family and decided she would make a convenient uterus,” I said, and Viktor’s jaw tightened. “That was not how everyone viewed the arrangement,” he said, but he did not argue. That made me like him a little more. “If you had told them the truth,” Viktor continued, “they would have watched the two of you much more closely.”

7:30pm Packed SUV Dmitri lips curled into a sinister smirk as he watched the building crumble into ash. He needed to call the house and check on his wife, but he wanted to savor this moment first. There was no doubt that the FBI would get the information and back down but he knew it wouldn’t last, maybe bring a moment of peace and let a few day pass by with them off their trail but he knew that real war had just begone. The FBI were destroyed in less than 30minutes and it was credit to him—Don Dimitri Vladimir Kalashnikov. He was called the Beekeeper for a reason.

My body shook with anger as I looked at Sheriff Bianco, wishing I would snap his neck and kill him on the spot. "What did you say your boss is called?" I ask folding my hands across my chest. "Bratva Antonov," he answers. Silence reigns as we think of what that name sounds like. A Russian no doubt, but we don't know him. Then, it finally clicks. Rio beats me to saying it. "Enzo and Riley Antonov's brother? I thought there were only two Antonovs?" Rio shoots out in confusion. "There are. Or were. Richie Antonov is their father. He is ruthless and feared," he answers and I feel goosebumps creasing the back of my neck.

My dad shook Wyatt’s hand. “It was no problem, I understood that it was to keep everyone safe. My parents had told me that a witch spoke of the future and that I needed to keep Remi safe for it to come to pass, but they never told me of that future. I’m glad that I was able to keep everyone safe and keep the agreement with you intact.”