Yuri Volkov Novels & Stories

"No ID. Fingerprints came up blank in the civilian database. But I ran his face through my old FBI contacts." Vance handed me a tablet. NAME: YURI VOLKOV. STATUS: EX-RUSSIAN SPECIAL FORCES. DISHONORABLE DISCHARGE. CURRENTLY EMPLOYED BY KANE GLOBAL SECURITY. "Bingo," I whispered. I walked over to the chair. Volkov watched me, spitting a glob of blood onto the concrete floor. "Mr. Volkov," I said calmly. "You’re a long way from Moscow." "I want a lawyer," Volkov grunted, his accent thick.

I decide that the mob boss probably wouldn't locate his bedroom close to the servants living space and head down the empty hallway. While I carefully take small, nervous steps down the hallway, I notice many pictures of many different (what seems to be) mafia leaders who are all Russian. The first one is from the 1800's and I follow more and more until I finally stop at the last one: the man who's attention I had caught this morning. His name is Andrei Volkov. As I start to admire his handsomeness on the picture even more, I notice there's a door right beside me. The closer I come to the door, I begin to hear someone yelling very angrily in what must be Russian.

What angered him more was that she was emotionally and mentally weak. Even if she looks fierce on the outside, he can’t fulfill her task if she’s fragile on the inside. “Fuck!” he growled soon as he entered the mini bar inside the royal house. He badly needed to drink a strong one to stop himself from destroying anything. He poured his glass of Spirytus Vodka and sipped on it. He sat on the couch as he savored the strong taste the Vodka drink could bring. He closed his eyes and tried to avert his thoughts from that girl.

“Shocking right? But I saw her. And according to my vision, she should be arriving today!” “Well, that's insane. Considering that everything we have read about Grisha talked about a very powerful person who will have power over both Ducazee and Anuka. And there was no way we could have all imagined that it was a girl.” Volkavik chimed in with his heavy voice and I could have sworn I saw steam coming out of his mouth. This guy was one of those that made me tremble even when I didn’t want to. I was a lycan prince, the strongest shape-shifter but Volkavik, a golden dragon was someone I didn’t want to mess up with! The legend has it that he has lived for over a million years. So yeah! I wasn’t p

Of course, Krystoff had been connected, and so now was Jozef, but the Bratva rarely traveled into unsettled situations. Standing next to Alexei was Yuri Antonovich, gatekeeper to the Bratva. The man acted as both a Vory and a secretary. He was cold-blooded and brutal. He would kill his own mother if it meant getting ahead. If he made Jozef's accession within the Bratva difficult, Jozef could have a rocky few years ahead of him.

He carried two coffees, handed one to Nikolai without asking. “Morning, sunshine,” he said to me. “You look like shit.” “Fuck off.” I wiped blood from my lip, must’ve split it on his elbow. “You got something?”Frederico leaned against the weapons rack, sipping his coffee. “Yeah. Ran the description of the lead shooter through some contacts. Bald, tattoos up the neck star on the left side, prison ink. Recognized him. Dmitri Volkov. Runs muscle for the Volkov Bratva out of Brighton Beach. Second-generation. Nasty fucker. Likes knives more than guns.”Nikolai froze.

Ben reminded him. Scowling angrily, Yuri looked up into Ben's face. "You will speak with my business acquaintance." He walked away to the double doors. He hadn't even acknowledged Trish's existence yet. Ben looked over at the redhead who smiled at him. She preferred to be underestimated. A moment later Yuri returned with a man wearing a Russian Military uniform. He was carrying a double width attaché case which he set down next to the couch before continuing into the room. When they stood before Ben, Yuri spoke. "Ben Shepherd, this is Colonel Aleksei Vasiliev."

He raised his hand and slowly unlatched his armored helm. The face underneath was scarred and weary, but unmistakable. It was Victor Volkov, the ISS Flight Engineer who was supposed to have perished in the initial explosion of the Russian segment. "Victor, it’s me! It’s Mina!" she cried, stepping out from cover. "Mina, get back!" Kazimir warned, his finger tightening on his trigger.

Tessa pulled two blueberry muffins out of the box and set them on a plate, pushing it toward me. "Alright, start talking," Tessa demanded, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. "The news is saying Kieran Volkov is involved in some massive restructuring, but the internet forums are saying something completely different. They're saying he's connected to some very dangerous people from Eastern Europe…What is going on, Yara?"

He hit a puck, and the sound of it slamming against the boards. "That’s him," Bianca whispered. She was standing on my other side, looking small in her fur-trimmed coat. "Nikolai Volkov." I watched him. He was brutal. He didn't just play; he dominated the space. He came to a hard stop right in front of us, spraying a fine mist of ice over the glass. He pulled off his helmet, and my heart stopped. Blonde hair, matted with sweat. Sharp, high cheekbones. And those eyes.