Nikolai Lantsov Novels & Stories

So Alexander had lost control of his favorite weapon. Good. I scrolled. Beneath the video list, a small panel detailed more about OPERATIVE N. - NAME: NIKOLAI SERGEYEVICH VOLKOV - ROLE: FIELD OPERATIVE / ASSET RECOVERY - NOTES: EFFECTIVE, UNSTABLE. STRONG ATTACHMENT TO SUBJECT C‑01. RECOMMENDED: MANAGE OR NEUTRALIZE. Strong attachment. Manage or neutralize. The words swam. My fingers trembled as I scrolled further down, to another timestamp.

It was his cloak. “Alpha Dalton?” One of the warriors standing behind him called out. The handsome man turned his head towards the man who had spoken. A gasp left my mouth before I could stop it as I stepped back in fear. This was the Alpha Dalton. He was known for being reckless, intimidating and merciless. He normally wouldn’t think twice before killing someone who dared defy him. With a cold voice, Alpha Dalton asked “What the fuck is going on?” Sensing the coldness radiating from his voice, I flinched.

“You think you rescued me. Maybe you did. But don’t pretend this is kindness.” “It isn’t,” Alexei said. The honesty hung between them. Nikolai opened another folder from his coat and laid out photographs on the desk. Men in suits. Government buildings. Private meetings. “You recognize them,” he said. She walked back to the desk and studied the images. “Yes.” “Names,” Dmitri demanded. “Minister Volodin,” she said, tapping one photo. “Defense contracts. He launders through agricultural imports.” She tapped another. “Judge Kirov. Offshore trust in Malta. His son runs the account.”

I nodded. Elena stood and walked over to a desk at the back of the room. She slipped a paper from the drawer and scribbled a number. The paper sat in my hands, my eyes running over Elena’s elegant scrawl. “Memorize the number and burn it.” Elena resumed her position on the couch, “Nikolai Aslanov is a man who appreciates privacy. That is his personal phone number.” “Thank you, Elena.” I turned and thanked the snake of a woman.

“I guess Larry Gates isn't your real name.” “Gorevoy Egorov. But, call me Larry for security reasons.” Natasha drew away from him. “Who wants Rico dead and for how much?” “I can't give the name of my client.” “Not even to your daughter?”

“‘Classic Cocktails.’ Aperol Spritz—refreshing drink with a light citrus bitterness, 220 milliliters, 170 hryvnias.” “But… how?” he stared, baffled. “I have a very strong photographic memory. You read that I finished my studies externally, right?” “Yes, but I thought you were just a bookworm…” “No, there was no point sitting and listening to material I could absorb way faster than everyone else. And also— I, Victoria Aleksandrovna Lemeshko, am a certified biochemist, senior technologist, and specialist at Nikolai Koshev’s company. Nice to meet you.”

I take my left glove off and then the right and shake my opponent's hand for one last time as we both make our way towards the lockers. "You're pretty good kid! If you ever decide this is what you want to do for an actual profession, I know you'd go real far. Hey, you may even become famous someday, now that Knight Enterprise has you under their microscope. I hear you're their new sponsor, congratulations." He says making me chuckle. He places his shirt on as he glances toward me.

“Katerina. As you may know, we must not have her grave without a name…” End of Flashback. “And that is, Cosimo?” He asked as my office door opened. Her scent filled my nostrils, and I didn’t need to look behind me to know that it was her. Both Nikolai and Mikhail looked at her, the men growing enchanted by her undying beauty. She used the backdoor of my office, letting me know that she could do so without attracting my men, simply because she wanted.

He sounded very unimpressed and, as usual, bored, "Mr. Minnette had showed me his designs today for one of his clients." I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion, feeling frown lines etch themselves onto my forehead, "I'm sorry but I'm not sure I know who you're speaking of." He sighed in what sounded liked deep frustration, voice turning deeper as he said, "Jaxon Minnette, ring any bells?" Face palming myself due to my stupidity, I quickly said, "Oh, what about his designs?" "He had mentioned that you had helped him with it," Gunnar mused in what sounded like disbelief.

That power to make a squeaky voice sound authoritative belonged to just one person, the human leader, the grand commander, General Hannibal Gisco. The stout, bulky, grey headed general paraded the space, separating the twelve thrones made for the elder gods and himself from the rows of wooden benches made for the subjects, carrying an icy chill with each stamp of his foot against concrete floors. The hall fell to a hush, irking Lucian even more. He hated the power they had given the General but in Hannibal's case, he could understand why. The other Lortals was a different case. Hannibal Gisco was the man the word 'ruthless' had been crafted for. He never spoke too often or minced words durin