Nikolai Lantsov Novels & Stories

My breath hitched. Nikolai Lantsov stood just twelve steps away, his dark scowl cutting through the air like a blade. Both his hands rested casually in his pockets, but the threat in his gaze was unmistakable. His height was intimidating from afar, and I was certain he would tower over me if we stood close. My eyes strayed to his chest, then to his shoulders. He was so muscular it made me wonder if he was really forty-two. And his face—there was no way I could forget it, the face of my family’s sworn enemy.

I extended a hand to him, and shaking my hand, he smirked at me, watching as Natasha took a step back. “Alpha Nathan Kozlov. You really are a man of business. I can see that your place seems to bring in more people with each passing day” he said, looking at Natasha who bit her bottom lip as she smiled. I knew that it disgusted her to act this way, but she also knew her job and duty well, and it was one of the main reasons why she was the ONLY one qualified for this job and no one else.

Her eyes moved from my face to the half dead man and she cried at the sight of him. “You wanted to know who I am Lily, well this is who I am... I am Nikolai fucking Vladimir, Leader of Bratva, second son of Russia most deadliest man, ruler of all underlings and I am not terrified to tear down any organization who dares to challenge me. Trained from the very young age of 8 on how to use a gun, kill-count is 93...”, I took out a gun from behind my pants and shot the prisoner on the forehead, “...94”, I counted.

Lila, halfway down the stairs in her pajamas, froze at the sight of the men on the threshold. Four of them. Black coats, black gloves, faces carved from stone. The one in front was the tallest—broad-shouldered, dark-haired, with eyes the pale gray of winter skies over the Neva River. A scar cut through his left eyebrow, giving him a permanent look of disdain. Nikolai Volkov. Even she knew the name. Head of the Volkov Bratva in New York. Ruthless. Untouchable. Vincent’s voice cracked. “Nikolai. I asked for more time—”

“The wolfsbane is just there to neutralize the wolf!” He smells the vial again, then he grins and dimples puncture his cheeks. “Buckthorn.” He shakes his head, plucking the vial from my fingers. “You’ve put too much wolfsbane in. This will kill her.” He nods at the mashed potato. “Isla is lactose-intolerant. A nob of butter should have the desired effect.” He pushes the cork into the vial, then pockets it. “Mind if I keep this? I have a better use for it.”

guy could be a freaking murderer and I’m sitting here thinking about what it would be like to touch him all over. I’m either seriously disturbed or there is some kind of witchy shit going on here. I wanted to be so close to this man I couldn’t stand it. The scent of fresh spring water and pine was coming from his direction and I was drawn to it. Dalton and the two other men came over and sat on the other chairs that were placed in front of the couch that I was occupying, obviously not trying to get too close to me. I smirked a little, three grown men are scared of a 5 foot nothin’ female. There has to be a compliment somewhere in there. Dalton cleared his throat, “First off I want to introd

My purpose here is clear: to reclaim what rightfully belongs to me. My name is Nikolai Fedorov, a seasoned assassin who has faithfully served the Bratva for countless years. Renowned for my exceptional skills and unyielding brutality, I have earned a fearsome reputation among our ranks. Having held the esteemed title of Vor within the London Bratva, I now find myself in Chicago, prepared to assume the mantle of Vor for the esteemed Chicago Bratva. As Vor, I bear the weighty responsibility of maintaining order and ensuring strict adherence to the Bratva’s unwavering code of conduct.

"Don't you dare use their names." "We cannot take down Volkov alone," Nikolai said, dropping his voice to a frantic hiss. "He has eyes and ears in every shadow. Even in this room, I wonder if he’s listening. That is why I aligned with the strongest man I know. Don Jasper is the only one with the reach to touch him." "Sergei Prokofiev couldn't stop him," I said coldly. "Silas Sterling, with all his billions, couldn't stop him. Even Cyprian Cross failed. And you think a common Don from my university days will?"

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hates the auction organizer but maybe he hates everyone. “Meet my secretary.” He says and turns those soulless eyes to me, holding out his hand. “Come.” My body locks down as I stare at his outstretched hand. Rafe Lennox called him Volkov. There is only one Volkov strong enough to commandeer this reaction from a roomful of thugs and brutes, only one Volkov that can make Silas Wren shake with anger as he impotently grabs his coat and stomps out of the room. It’s Nikolai Volkov.

SPADE “You found something?” I asked Terzo after poking fun at me. “Aaron is not his real name.” Linden turned his laptop to us. “He’s Belarusian with a rap sheet a mile long of assault, DUI, to name a few. Barys Norkov, and uses a lot of fake IDs.” I looked at Terzo, who suddenly went silent. “You want an apology? Fine. I’m sorry. And you were right. I don’t care about money. If I weren’t there, she could be a missing person right now.”