Yuri Volkov Novels & Stories

Every single nerve in my body came to life, erasing every rational thought in my body. Wetness pooled in my center and I was more than certain that if he wanted to fuck me right there on that wall, I wouldn’t resist. “Sir?” A voice said, breaking up apart. I scrambled away from him and avoided looking at Markos or Derek—the one who’d interrupted us. “What?” Markos asked a little bit too aggressively. “Ivan is asking for you,” Derek answered. I could see him staring at me but I didn’t dare look at him. He scrambled away soon after, leaving Markos and me there.

Red strings connected various pieces of information, forming a web of information. “This is who we are against,” Victor said, pointing to a photograph of a man with a scar on his cheek. “His name is Sergei Volkov. He controls one of the largest underground organizations in Eastern Europe. He’s been trying to weaken my operations for years.” “And what does that have to do with me?” Olivia asked, her voice trembles. Victor’s jaw tightens. “Because Sergei believes you are my weakness. He thinks if he can get to you, he can get to me.”

You don't know how to fucking drive? Yeah, I do! But we're doing this fucking fast and furious kinda shit, for when we are in need. This new job I have with the council is no joke. Two years ago before Ricky met Livie, we were contacted by Alpha Blake, the former leader of the Primord's Pack. He had word that the alpha in charge of the pack Livie was from was the main ringleader of a big dark operation.

I said, calling the man, watching as he froze, looking at me over his shoulder as he did. “I, Valerie Morozov, accept your rejection, Alpha Alessandro D’Almerita.”

She exchanged a wary glance with Zoe, who nodded imperceptibly, her eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of treachery. Without hesitation, Ulrich and Zoe charged towards the suspicious scent, their paws pounding the earth in unison. They burst through the underbrush, confronting a shocking sight: one of their own pack members, a young werewolf named Akira, stood frozen, a look of guilt etched on his face. Akira's eyes darted towards Ryker's pack, then back to Ulrich and Zoe, his expression betraying his betrayal. Ulrich's heart raced with anger and disappointment, her mind reeling with the implications.

“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.”

“Brothers do not kill blood. No matter what Dima did, no matter how far gone he was, you should’ve brought him before the council. Let the Vor v Zakone pass judgment. Not your gun.” I sat there in silence, the weight of his words sinking into my bones like lead. “You made it too easy for Viktor,” Yuri continued. “He’s not just whispering about your move to New York now. He’s painting you as dishonorable, unfit to lead. He’s telling them you killed your own blood in a cold rage. That you’ve lost control. That your weakness is rotting the Bratva from the inside out.” “Let them talk,” I muttered.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hates the auction organizer but maybe he hates everyone. “Meet my secretary.” He says and turns those soulless eyes to me, holding out his hand. “Come.” My body locks down as I stare at his outstretched hand. Rafe Lennox called him Volkov. There is only one Volkov strong enough to commandeer this reaction from a roomful of thugs and brutes, only one Volkov that can make Silas Wren shake with anger as he impotently grabs his coat and stomps out of the room. It’s Nikolai Volkov.

a deep, smooth voice called out, drawing my attention. I turned to see Viktor Volkov, an associate from the Bratva in Russia, standing beside us with a glass of whiskey in hand. He was a tall, well-groomed man with sharp blue eyesand a reputation for being both charming and dangerous—a combination I wasn’t particularly fond of at the moment. “Volkov,” I greeted curtly, keeping my arm around Giselle’s waist. I didn’t care that I was acting extra possessive of her tonight as long as it kept the other men away from her.

The room exuded an aura of controlled chaos, a reflection of the world we navigated. I leaned back in my chair, fingertips steepled as I surveyed the faces of my trusted comrades. "Mikhail Volkov is becoming a thorn in our side, Alexei," Yaz spoke, his voice a low growl. "His operations are encroaching on our territory, and he's been recruiting our men." I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled in thought. Mikhail Volkov, a rival whose ambitions threatened the delicate balance I maintained. The city was a chessboard, and every move echoed with the potential for upheaval.