Novel & Cerita Nikolai Petrov

I was a man of duty. The car ride back to the Petrov Estate was silent. Nikolai, my loyal consigliere, was a quiet presence in the car. He knew me. He knew I was a man of total control, a man who never let his emotions cloud his judgment. He knew this wasn't me.

"I was not aware it was anyone's business but mine what interests I seek in my city. If I must, I will speak to your father and let him know my position on this issue." Petrov quickly caught on to the deadly note in Vlad's voice and glanced around him quickly. He was probably wondering if he would make it out of Vlad's dockside warehouse alive. It would make more of a statement toward Vlad's feelings on Petrov's interference if his head made it back to Russia before his body. "It was not my intent to insult you, Vladimir," Petrov said pleadingly, understanding he made a very big mistake. Vladimir Sitnikov was one cold motherfucker. There was no use in trying to go head to head with the man i

Which meant the source we'd found earlier this week wasn't the only one. Two moles. Possibly more. I was still sitting with that when Nikolai came in. He sat across from me. Looked at me for a moment with that direct steadiness that I'd come to rely on without meaning to. "His name," he said quietly, "is Vadim Sorokin." The name landed in the room. The man's name.

"You will be putting yourself in incredible danger. Alexei is not a forgiving man." "I understand, sir," he replied. "And if you are discovered," I continued. "I may not be able to save you." "I understand that too, sir," he said. "Then why?" I demanded. "Why would you risk your life for me?" Petrov met my gaze steadily. "Because you are a good boss, Mr. Volkov," he said. "You treat your people with respect. You pay fair wages. You care about us." He paused. "Mr. Alexei does not," Petrov continued. "I have heard stories. About how he treats his staff. How he beats them for small mistakes. How he uses them and throws them away."

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.

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.

he said quietly. I blinked. “What?” “Sergei. He was my mentor. Everything I know, I learned from him. But he wasn’t just a soldier. He was a strategist—a man who believed loyalty was a weakness. When I refused to follow one of his orders, he tried to have me killed.” I knelt in front of him. “And now he’s back.” Nikolai’s gaze met mine—haunted but steady. “And this time, he’ll come for what I hold most dear.”

But if the Dark Child was the daughter of Estelel to Jilroid and she was her daughter to that means the Dark Child is her sister and Margarette was her aunt. “What do you want from me, Ánië?” She asked as memories of her past were brought back to her. “We only got one fragment of the Nromais.” “Don’t worry. I really don’t need them. Simple. I want the Hristoax that Estelel gave me.” “The Hristoax? But that’s mine!” “You stole it from me!” “Liar! You greedy woman!” She won’t hand the damn thing down. Ánië made three strides and was in front of her in a second; she curled her hands on her neck and choked her to death. “Give me the Hristoax.”

“Ivan Petrova.” Damion’s gaze darkened. “Petrova?” Leonard nodded grimly. “Russian arms dealer. Adrian’s been dealing with him for days under the radar. If Adrian needs a secure location off the grid, Petrova’s the type of guy who could provide it.” Damion exhaled slowly, his mind racing. He pulled out his phone and made a quick call. The line clicked. A voice answered on the other end. “Mr. Blackwood.” “Felix, I need an update on Adrian’s movements,” Damion said, wasting no time.

I nod my head, and Elliot smiles as Theo looks like he is about to rip the bloke’s head off. “Took you long enough,” Petrov says with his thick Russian accent. I nod, drinking a small sip of my tumbler as I move my eyes around the room. This could get bad, and all these people might get injured. “Let’s cut the crap. What do you want?” I ask and he lets out a small chuckle. He downs his drink and rises from his chair. He is a little shorter than me, with shaved hair and a big beard. He looks like a fucking caveman.