Yassen Gregorovich Alex Rider Novels & Stories

With a ponytail of dark hair, he stood with his back, holding a motorcycle helmet in his hand and brazenly knocking the ashes of a cigarette into a very expensive vase. "Grigory Astakhov," Alyosha, who was standing beside me, answered quietly. There was a strange mixture of disapproval and approval in his voice at the same time. - Wolfhound. The leader of the mercenaries, rare scumbags. Boris Sergeevich summons him in exceptional cases. The most accurate shooter of all in the city, ”he added expressively, squinting at me. - You speak the most well-aimed ... - I noticed, involuntarily touching the wound.

“Yes, come on Noah. Stick your hand out and you'll see the wind has changed directions. Maybe if we move the target towards the fountain, I’ll get a better shot.” “But I made my shot perfectly.” Noah chuckled at me and I growled and started to reach for him playfully when a voice sounded behind us. “Focus, pup. You are always making excuses.” The gruff voice of Gregor made me freeze. He was our family's longtime combat trainer. He had his hand crossed in front of him, his hair was gray and he had a stern glare that always scared me, but not as much as the long scar that travelled down his right eye, completely blinding it that it was white.

he growled. “Oh, I won’t need to,” Gregor replied, grinning. Because behind us, more footsteps. And another voice. “Stand down.” Viktor. Alive. He stepped into view like he owned the place—black suit, no tie, a fresh scar over his right eye, and that same calm demeanor. “You never learned the rules, Alessia,” he said. “When you start a war…” He pulled a pistol and aimed it at Luca’s heart. “You finish it.”

" I closed my eyes, processing. Vivienne had attempted to murder us. Her own son. She had met my eyes and issued the command. There would be no coming back from that. No reconciliation, no truce. This was war now. “She won’t let it go,” I said softly. "No. She won't." Gregor stooped, his elbows resting on his knees. “That’s why I’m going to make you a deal.” I opened my eyes. "What kind of deal?"

Instead, his focus is entirely on whatever is being said through the pack's mindlink. When his gaze finally sharpens and meets mine, I see the storm brewing in his eyes. Alexei is instantly by our side; his face has no signs of an earlier relaxed expression. Instead, there is fierceness in his gaze. “What’s going on?” I ask, looking between Mikhail and Alexei. Everyone senses the shift in the atmosphere as everyone looks at us. "Gregor." Mikhail's voice, even though calm, has hidden anger in it, “he’s at the border with his wolves. He’s demanding to see me—and you.”

His heart raced, but I couldn’t help but frown when the man was forced into a stop that neither one of us calculated for. “No…” “You killed our Alpha,” they were the assassins, and the man who held him was Ryker. His eyes were fixed on Vadim for a second too long before he looked at Valerie. “It is said that a phoenix dies and comes back to life, how about we start getting proof of that?” “Ryker…” “No,” Vadim said, shaking his head. “Don’t…”

Then, at a section labelled 'CLASSIFIED - Involvement with 'Argus' Operation 1998', David paused. "Albert Wilson is NOT Albert Wilson. True name: Alex Svoronov. Former Russian nuclear physicist, specialising in defence technology and energy shielding. He is wanted by The Cyclops for stealing a critical prototype known as the 'Argus Key' in 1998. The Argus Key is believed to be the master key to control global underwater communication networks. Maria Santos, true name Lena Petrova, was a former Russian counter-intelligence agent assigned to monitor Alex, but she later fell in love and helped him escape."

he repeated thoughtfully, rolling the name across his tongue as though testing its weight. I nodded once. “Yes.” For several seconds Gregori remained silent, watching me with that calculating expression of his while the Rolls-Royce continued gliding through the quiet Detroit streets. Gregori Petrov was many things—dangerous, intelligent, and ruthless when necessary—but above all he was observant. Very little escaped his notice, especially when it concerned the people closest to him. Finally he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out his phone. “I could ask people to look into it,” he said casually. “But without a last name, it would be difficult.”

Teeth and claws and punches thrown at one another against the roof of two huge snow-covered branches. As I rested my head on the tree behind me, I realized that Gregor wasn’t really just meaning to protect me—he’d been hunting down these Rogues for killing. I can even see in his eyes and the way his body moves that he’s willing to bury them all beneath the snow and at the bottom of the icy running river. I heard the other Rogues escaping back to the other side of the same river. Gregor strode towards me as he knocked down the leader, relishing every step as if he were walking into his summit of victory and I am the prize to be claimed at the top.

His dark hair was piled on his head, the sides of his head were shaved. He stopped; he was so silent, so steady, it unnerved me. His gaze surveying the room was the only way to know that he was still alive. The light scars on his face were an indication that he was well trained, but in what? His mismatched eyes settled on me. One blue and one brown eye seemed to see right through my carefully composed mask. “The warriors have already been chosen.” Alpha Raymond waved him off, sounding bored. “I’m not here for that,” he said, not taking his eyes off mine. “I’ve been sent to find a killer.”