Yassen Gregorovich Alex Rider Novels & Stories

Poorly contained. “That’s her?” “She’s…” “By the gods-” “Vale blood, no doubt.” “She doesn’t look like-” “She looks like trouble.” I smiled to myself. Rowan leaned closer, voice low. “You’re enjoying this.” “Immensely.” We reached the center of the room where the main Alpha delegation waited. Alpha Gregor of the Eastern Ridge inclined his head first - tall, silver-haired, calculated. His pack had land bordering Vale territory, and ambition dripping off him like oil.

It’s time to call Alexei Petrov, the talented young computer specialist who works for me from my base in London. Alexei, in his early twenties, stands at around 5′10″ with a lean and athletic physique. His short black hair is often in disarray, and his piercing blue eyes constantly scan the room with intense focus. His usual attire consists of skinny jeans, a leather jacket, and combat boots. Intricate tattoos adorn his arms, including a circuit board on his left bicep, showcasing his passion for hacking.

Yegor leaned back in his chair and looked at the furious Xachary calmly. Then, he took out a high-quality Genesis Core and played with it in his hands. Xachary said furiously, “Why are you pretending to be high and mighty? Your son must’ve told you something!” Yegor raised his eyes and looked at Xachary. Then, he said, “Why are you acting so anxious over a young man? What happened to your usual calm composure?”

Who had made decisions for her without asking. Who had loved his son enough to plan three years ahead and been killed for it. My phone went off. Unknown number. Not the usual one. A different configuration. I stared at it for a second. Answered. Silence. Then a man's voice. Old. Careful. "Ms. Reyes." A slight Russian accent under very controlled English. "My name is Gregor Volkov. I think it's time you and I spoke directly." A pause. "Before my nephew does something tonight that he cannot undo."

Caden held very still. "I have been an Alpha for twenty years," Gregor said. "I know what a scent mask is and what it covers and what happens when the compound weakens under stress." He looked at the document again. "I also know what it means that someone walked into The Hollow alone and got four people out with the guards neutralised and the signal sent in under twenty minutes." He paused. "Your mate is not ordinary." "No," Caden said. "She's not." Gregor picked up the document.

I paced my dimly lit chamber, my boots striking the stone floor with deliberate force. The torches along the walls cast erratic shadows, flickering like the chaos inside my mind. “ Gregor,” I growled, turning sharply to face him. He stood as still as a statue, arms crossed over his chest, his scarred face unreadable in the dim light. I could trust Gregor because his loyalty was unshakable, and his strength unparalleled. “They have successfully defeated the previous batch of Hunters, I hope you sent more men,” I said, my voice low but taut with anger.

I hate up-close fights with Alphas, but sometimes it's needed and something tells me I’m going to earn every gold disc coming my way. “I’ll send the coordinates. Don’t let me down, Elle.” Francis disconnects the video and the room is filled with silence. I grab the shirt that I tossed onto the floor last night and cover my body before digging into the guts of the file. Octavia has filled it with information, which means less recon for me. Alpha Gideon is in his late thirties; he’s an active member of his Pack and from what my old friend can tell, he hasn’t got a mean bone in his body. “We’ll see about that.” I mutter to myself as I close the file and pull up The Academy’s search engine. Alph

Joe started to laugh. “What?” I asked him. Through laughs, he said, “Geneva?” He looked at Harlow. She raised her eyebrows. “Geneva.” She smiled at him. “What’s Geneva?” I asked, looking at Harlow, then at Joe. Before Joe could answer, Harlow spoke up. “I got this, Joe, you relax.” She laughed. “Geneva was this pain in the ass assignment where we were after this big wig sex trafficker, Igor Bolshevik. We were there for about a month, but every time we would bust an operation, we only got Bolshevik’s minions.

We crossed a courtyard dusted with fresh snow, the ground packed down by the heavy boots of warriors drilling in formation. And there— Near the center— I saw him. Alexandro. He was dressed in simple black armor, moving through the ranks of soldiers like a dark storm. He barked orders, demonstrating techniques with swift, brutal efficiency. I watched, transfixed, as he sparred with three wolves at once, his movements a blur of deadly grace. He moved like a creature of pure instinct, every step calculated, every strike purposeful. His soldiers fought hard to match him, but none could best him.

Alpha Ryker was sitting on his chair in front of his desk, reading through some papers. “Ezio” Alpha Ryker said, nodding at me. He looked up at me then looked down at the papers again. I looked at Miley who shook her head, shrugging her shoulders as she didn’t know what annoyed the Alpha. Whatever it was, the Alpha kept his eyes fixed on the papers for a few seconds, raising his head to look at us.