Yelena Belova Comic Novels & Stories

Royce froze. Elena glanced from Royce to Kenzie, and Kenzie shrugged. "At least that's one less asshole to deal with." "Right." Elena's lips pursed in a grim line. She was quite beautiful, with blonde hair and soft green eyes. But there was an intelligence and fire there that showed her inner strength. That was what Vadym was trying to kill. But he won't get her again, not if I can help it. Royce may not think he needs a Robin to his Batman, but I can prove him wrong.

Viktor “Viktor,” I turn upon hearing my name and I keep a neutral look on my face when Yelena approaches me. There is a soft smile on her face as she walks towards me. She’s wearing a blue dress that stops just above her knee and her straightened brunette hair stops right above her shoulders. There's heavy makeup on her face and I must say, Yelena exudes an aura wherever she goes. She is Vladimir’s daughter.

Yelena flinched in fear at Belle's sudden reaction. Belle lunged at Yelena, grabbing her by the collar. "You drugged me?" Yelena, visibly shaken, stammered, "What… What are you talking about?" "Don't play innocent with me! I can tell—" shouted Belle right before she fainted. Yelena patted her chest to calm her racing heart before kicking Belle's body twice. "Fucking bitch! She almost hit me! I was so scared!"

“Are you sure this is the place, Mrs. Dayton?” Siena could not believe her eyes when Mona said they had arrived at the place where they could meet Madam Belova. Because they were standing right in front of a bar! “Yeah…, Madam Belova is an easy going woman and always enjoys her life. Though she is not a young lady anymore, but she is always young at heart. And she loves to have fun. I think that’s why she hasn’t got married till now,” Mona responded casually.

As they heard Zen running to meet his guild, Yelena turned to Bolt. “Weak child but Yelena likes. He makes good pancakes.” Bolt had to agree. “Let’s try to keep him alive for as long as possible. It’s up to that child how much he can grow, but I’m hoping to see him make it to the final rounds.” The young Russian commando agreed and liked the plate, cleaning the honey off with her tongue. The pancakes were delicious.

"Just live." "That sounds simple." "It's not." She walked to him. "But it's worth it." He turned to face her. "I love you." "I know." "Do you love me?" She looked at the baby. At Nadia. At the life they had built from ashes. "More than anything." --- The phone rang at midnight. Elena answered. "Ms. Hart." Reyes's voice. Tired. Old. "Yuri Volkov died an hour ago. Complications from surgery."

Superstition clung to the walls like dust. Elena stood in front of her dressing-room mirror, alone. The costume was little more than gold body paint and chains that draped across her breasts and hips, leaving back, sides, and most of her ass bare. Her skin shimmered under the lights, every muscle carved sharp from weeks of starvation and obsession. She looked like a blade dipped in honey. Valeria knocked once and entered without waiting. She wore the Slave costume again: black straps, collar, nothing else. The leather had been adjusted since the gala; now it framed her completely naked cunt, lips already slightly swollen, as if her body knew what was coming.

"Charming, huh? Tall, dark, and handsome, I presume?" Yelena scoffed, her nose crinkling in amusement. "Please, Alexei, as if you haven't seen enough of those in your line of work. This one's different. He's got paint-stained fingers and a smile that could melt glaciers." My eyebrows shot up. "Glaciers, huh? Sounds serious." She shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. He did teach me how to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling with my eyes closed."

"Before he died. Did he know my mother was here. Did he know about the fellowship, about you, about" "No," she said. Simply. "Aleksei Volkov was my lawyer for eighteen months, twelve years ago, for an unrelated property matter. He was good at his job and I liked him and when he died I sent flowers because that is what you do." She looked at me. "I did not know he had a connection to you. I did not know you existed until two years ago when a coat appeared on a runway in a collection called Reyes and I looked up the designer and found Elena's last name attached to someone who moved the way Elena moved and worked the way Elena worked."

The second was silenced with a chokehold as Elena slid into the facility’s auxiliary ventilation shaft, bypassing four levels of biometric locks. Her mind was clear. Sharp. Unrelenting. She had to be. There was no room for doubt anymore. No room for the girl who once believed justice wore a name. Damien’s name. She killed the thought before it could root. Down the hall, Rhys Vale sat in a concrete chamber surrounded by holograms – projections of the Eidolon schematics flickering across the walls like godlight. He was speaking to an AI unit in a clipped voice. “Elena Vasquez is a myth now,” he said. “We made sure of it. The only version of her that matters is the one we built – the AI constru