Novel & Cerita Viktor Reznov

“A woman who has chosen hiding rather than family, you came to play the good guy?” “No.” I tilted my head. “I came to warn you.” His wolf bristled. “About what?” “You’re playing a cold game,” I whispered, stopping his wolf with a flick of my finger. “And you’re losing. You are just failing to see it.” The silence that followed was thick, suffocating even for them. Lorenzo’s voice dropped, dangerous. “To who?” “Xavier Blackthorn.” I locked eyes with him. “And Valerie. The Luna you’re underestimating more than anyone. The weak pawn that you think you can play.”

“I did and this is my hotel so I don’t understand how that concerns you.” He gritted his teeth in anger and headed for the bar. “You’re digging your own fucking grave. Do you not remember what her father did to you? What you did to him in return? Do you think Hazel will forgive what you did? There is no happy ending for the two of you. Not after everything you have done to one another.” I gritted my teeth in anger. Ivan knew how to ruffle my fucking feathers. I fucking knew there was no happy ending for me and Hazel. And I also knew I was playing a dangerous game because I was still attracted to her.

Chapter Forty- Eight - New Beginnings Reyna's POV It was hard to believe it had already been two weeks since Ivan was captured. The media went into a frenzy about it. Especially when Ivan begged them to believe he wasn't who he was said to be. The cherry on top was the statement he released when he pled not guilty to the charges. Claiming a wolf and his psychotic daughter framed him, I had a great laugh at the officers as they tried to take me in to prove his claims true or false.

Donovan clenched his jaw, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, as he drove through the dimly lit streets. Anger churned within him, a tempestuous storm fuelled by a volatile mix of frustration and concern. He had intervened just in time, thwarting Reuben's sinister intentions.

His slicked-back dark hair and the heavy silver ring on his index finger completed the look of someone who operated with precision and was not to be crossed. “Miss Celia Romano,” he said, his voice deep and low, with a faint accent she couldn’t place. “I’m Viktor Malcov. I will be briefing you on your new position.” Celia nodded slowly, her back straightening, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Malcov.”

Don Alessandro Dominic. The Don looked Julian up and down like he was inspecting livestock. “You brought… this… to a family event?” Caesar’s smile was all teeth. “His name is Julian. He’s my partner. Consider it a gift, Father.” The old man’s lips curled. “You always did love your little surprises.” A voice from the side, smooth with an Eastern European accent. “Some things never change.” Mikhail Reznik. Julian’s blood turned to ice. That name, he’d seen it in the files. In the Truth room.

His voice was a soft whisper against my ear, devoid of any warmth. "You will be my greatest asset. You will be his kryptonite and his nemesis. I can see why Sokolov is really into you." Vlad Kuznetsov. The name finally clicked into place, not as a memory of a face or a specific event, but as a reputation, a name whispered in hushed tones in certain circles, a titan of industry with a dark underbelly, known for his relentless ambition and unforgiving nature.

Of course he was. “And this power, how do you intend to help me get it?” A moment of silence stretched between us. Minutes passed and he still stared at me absentmindedly like he was in deep thought. With a heave of a shaky breath, he rose from his seat as her ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “The pakhan of Russian Bratva. Viktor Nikolai Advik.” The glass in my hand shattered, my blood trickled down my clothed thigh, my eyes stayed widened and unblinking and I remained unmoving.

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.

Caitlin grabbed a chair and sat down adjacent to me, her bare thighs squashing down onto the seat as she folded her ankles and leaned back. She gestured with her hand to let me continue, almost impatiently and I cocked an eyebrow at her with a small smile. This woman… "If," I emphasised. "You're willing. Your target would be Lucas Trevino, software engineer and owner of Godfather nightclub." I paused for her reaction and she simply just nodded her head waiting for me to continue.