The Last Russian Doll Novels & Stories

"I didn't mean to…" Jenny knocked on the door right then, her face caked in thick, white foundation, while red blush dusted her cheeks and the tip of her nose. She looked pitiful. "Melanie, I'm so sorry for making you lose your baby… Jeremy didn't do it on purpose, please let him go… "He only has the mind of a five-year-old, and can't live without our parents! He must be scared out of his mind, now that he's locked up!"

Hugo asked. "I lived for hundreds of years, how could I not possibly have heard of such thing?" Russ smirked. "Alright, I stand corrected," Hugo then confessed. A loud sound of cracking and falling stones stopped them from their discussion. Soon, the stone walls cracked leaving an opening in the middle. "Let's get out now," I told them while standing up. "That's was an incredible ability, lady," Russ told me. "Thanks," I replied.

Anya did not know what to say to that, so she just hummed one of Morozko’s winter lullabies to herself and absorbed the scenic view. They made their way to the vendors at the foot of Sparrow Hills. “Look. Wooden nesting dolls! Like the matroyshka I used to have,” Anya said. Morozko nodded, his gaze stolen by something else. “What are you looking at?” Anya asked, distracted. Morozko blushed, taking the object into his hand. “What is it?” Anya pressed against him, struggling to see. It was a tortoiseshell comb with mother-of-pearl inlay in the shape of a fruiting tree.

He was carefully applying red paint to what looked like a doll's face. It took Jozef a moment to realize that he was looking at an underground workshop, not a safe room. The room was filled with tables piled high with all sizes of matryoshka, or Russian nesting dolls, in various stages of completion. One of the tables was filled with paints, jars, brushes and carving tools. A quick sweep of the room revealed a set of stairs beneath a trap door. Jozef guessed it would lead outside, set purposely away from the cabin in case the occupants needed a quick escape. It would have worked if Vasiliy had chosen to run. There was no one else in the room besides Vasiliy and there were no visible weapons

5 years later... Elena's POV "Ok I think that's everything for me," I say. I slam my suitcase shut and slap my hands together to rid the imaginary dust from my hands. I then place them on my hips and smile at the view that's in front of me. "Honey what are you doing?" I laugh. A small giggle comes from the other suitcase and two big green eyes peek out through a thin opening. I move closer to the suitcase and the giggles grow louder. I lift the top up and scream, "Peek a boo!"

Sharlynn replied, her gaze fixed on the place that specifically sold artistic items, including ceramic statues and vintage-style knick-knacks. Its red-orange colour took the form of a plump woman in traditional Russian attire. The first time Sharlynn looked at it, she was very interested and immediately ran to that place. "Surely, she will buy something unnecessary," Richie muttered while shaking his head. Sharlynn held and examined a wooden Russian matryoshka doll. She seemed fond of the item, which looked plump and stacked. "Isn't this matryoshka beautiful?" she asked Richie, who suddenly stood beside her. Richie just nodded in agreement. "I can put it on my desk so it won't be boring beca

With a resigned gesture, he slaps his palms together, the sound echoing in the tense silence, and leans forward on his knees, his posture a mix of frustration and anticipation. "Underground whispers suggest that she is the final remaining Doll, a human safeguard for the Elders of the Lombardi family. Years ago, the Lombardis implemented a sinister program to brainwash children, conditioning them to retain critical information that could only be accessed through carefully chosen phrases or intense emotional distress. The last recorded Doll, Lorelei Lombardi, mysteriously vanished after she courageously leaked crucial information. Rumour has it that she dedicated herself to mastering the abili

She saw the thing I had made. She screamed and threw the plate across the room. It hit the wall and bent, then it fell to the floor. Spun around until it stopped. She backed away from where she had seen herself in the plate. She said "no" again and again. It was not working. Her hand landed on a dagger on the floor. It was a blade with a special edge that could hurt vampires. She grabbed for the dagger. I moved first. I slammed her wrist to the floor. The dagger slid away.

Definitely stranger danger, my mind whispered, panic sparking in my veins. But before I could pull back into the safety of my dark room, Denzel slowly moved his right hand out of his coat pocket. He lifted it up into the silver moonlight, his gloved fingers dangling something small on a delicate chain. It caught the lunar glare, flashing brightly in the night. I leaned forward, my knuckles turning stark white as I gripped the wooden frame of the window. My jaw dropped, and the air completely left my lungs. It was a cheap, heavily scratched silver locket.

“I’m busy lately.” “I heard what happened. So, what’s bothering you, Terzo?” “About Ruslan Olezka.” He turned and faced me. “He’s in prison. Why are you worried?” “I want some information that I couldn’t get from him. I think he was the one who sent me a black Dahlia. I went to see him in prison this morning, but he denied it, and somehow, I believed him. I asked something, but he refused to answer unless I kill a man named Ivor Yrosov, who took over his territory.”